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Chapter Text

The cold floor beneath Willow’s heels echoed as she walked down the hall. The architecture of the Imperial castle was ever strange and imposing, a foreign and alien land when split against all of Eorzea. Beside her strode her Imperial officer, whom she sat only one rank below and that was thanks to a years worth of grueling political maneuvering by both herself and her co-conspirators.

She did not belong here, but if all went according to plan, the Garleans would not be any the wiser. The Imperial army had proved easy to fool. They had enough conscripts among them that keeping track of who and where was never top priority, and a Moon Clan Mi’qote who kept her head down and followed orders was not given more than a second glance.

The scions had insisted she use a false name but Willow thought it unlikely they knew her well enough to recognize even that. And a false name complicated things, if she was going to do this properly there had to be few lies between her and the Imperial government. She would give her all to it, name and body.

A year in and their plan had gone better than expected, perhaps too well at that. Though she had intended to take what she learned within the army back to her fellow Eorzeans she had never expected to see the Emperor himself. But it seemed it was exactly his desire to see her by his throne or so said her Imperial officer that now led her down the long and winding hall.

Willow, meanwhile, ran through everything she knew of Garlemald and the Imperial family lest she not seem knowledgeable and therefore worthless to him. This was a prime opportunity to take advantage of and she would see to its success.

She had never seen the Emperor in person, only the occasional portrait within the palace’s halls. Seeing him now, leisurely leaned to the side in the throne, it appeared they captured such likeness perfectly. The same gaze that watched her in the halls now looked at her in the flesh but his thin lips were not in the typical frown but rather a pleased smile.

When at last she was within speaking distance of his highness, who had a guard posted on either side, a silence overcame them. She worried that something was expected of her and so began, “You called me, your grace-”

A hand slammed on the shoulder of her armor, her superior’s helmeted face turned to her in a clear indication that that was the wrong thing to do.

“Oh let her speak,” said the Emperor, finally, and his voice was like a chime to her ears. Smooth, easy. She had not expected it. “I do not mind.”

She turned back to him, head bowed somewhat more deferential than before, “You called me your grace?”

“I did,” he said pleasantly, “Why do you think that is?”

Not a moment in and already she was being tested, her head raised to fix upon his expression. Quiet and calm, though his eyes showed a certain restrained madness. A bit intimidating to be around but not altogether hostile.

“If I were to be so bold,” she began and he smiled at the words, “You do not seem displeased, so I might believe the reason is a pleasant one.”

“I daresay you would not know enough of me to surmise whether I am displeased. But you did preface the words with an admittance of boldness so I shall forgive you,” he said and paused to let the fear settle in her bones before continuing, “You are correct however, for this is quite a good day for you,” her head raised in question as he continued, “I desire to take you as my personal guard.”

There was a subtle shift in her superior beside her, enough to say he disagreed with the idea but would never speak out against his Emperor’s wishes. Willow was caught off guard enough that it took her a beat to respond.

“Your grace,” she almost sputtered, “I am humbled by the opportunity,” she bowed her head again and he gave a short laugh.

“As you should be. The Emperor pulling one of your sort to serve him personally? Why, it is unheard of. That is to say you ought to be on your best behavior to please.”

“Of course,” she said and kneeled before him, hearing that short laugh again.

“Up, up, my dear, I’ve no need for your subservience. Only your skill you understand?”

She stood straight, realizing through all her fumbling that he wanted her to show strength rather than submission, “Understood. I shall serve to the best of my ability.”

“That is all I ask. Now, leave me. I am most drained from my numerous Imperial duties.”

The way he lounged on the throne he did not appear most drained at all but she knew much better to question it, only quietly taking her leave and steeling herself for what was to come. Serving the Emperor meant the most important eye in all of Garlean society was now on her and she would need to be careful with when and who she gave her information to. More than that she needed to prove she was worthy of such a position.

The strangeness of the promotion was not lost on her, for though she was a capable fighter it seemed that someone more trusted within his inner circle might be a wiser choice. But if there was one thing she had learned in her time among them, Garleans did not deny their Emperor no matter what his whims may be. And so it seemed for the time being she was stuck as personal guard to Solus zos Galvus.

Willow now received her orders directly from the Emperor himself, and such orders came not long after her earlier promotion. He required her at his dinner the following evening, an event that boasted the attendance of most of the cabinet and that, for some reason, required his personal guard.

When she entered the room the table was already packed to full. A chorus of voices seeming jovial to be in each other’s presence. Strange indeed were the faces that sat among the Emperor’s company, most unsurprisingly being older Garlean men. A few women among them but Willow was certain they worked for every ilm of their position. For though women could freely serve in the army, women-held positions of political power were few and far between.

At the end of the table, of course, was his Radiance himself. A smile settled on his own face but there was something strange about it. Sinister perhaps, or even disgusted. She knew little to nothing about this man and even she could surmise his unhappiness. She wondered if the rest of his comrades felt the same.

Beside him sat the Empress, her smile looked more pleased, but Willow wondered if she was not just better at playing the part. She was certainly beautiful. Blue eyes and long blonde hair braided to an intricate pattern behind her back. Rich silk gown on her person and though Willow could say much of the country she was always in awe of the fashion the wealthier class took part in. 

As was befitting of a guard, Willow stood at attention at the wider doorway to the side of the room. There were several more of the Emperor’s guard stationed at various other parts of the dining hall and she did begin to wonder why she was here. She was his personal bodyguard after all, and she was under the impression that meant accompanying him when he left the palace rather than when he was within the safety of its walls.

Eventually the night came to a close and she watched them pay their respect to the Emperor before they left. There were several he put his arms around in an act of affection and several he very obviously did not. Some of their meal for the evening still sat untouched in the center of the table, rich meat and finely cooked dishes that Willow had never had the pleasure of tasting even back in her homeland. It saddened her to know she had meager bread and rations to return to when at last she was relieved of duty. Hungry from standing guard all night.

When at last the guard was let to leave she turned to go herself before another of her station, following her out, grasped her shoulder. 

She turned as the man said, “The Emperor has requested you stay.”

In surprise she turned back to look at both Solus and his wife. He gestured with a hand for her to come closer and even more alarmed she turned back to the guard.

“Will you not do as he requests?”

“Of course,” she said quickly and then forced her legs to carry her to where the Emperor sat at the head of the table. 

She did not know what to say or do, unprepared for such a personal interaction so soon.

“Sit,” he said, pleasantly.

“An honor to join your grace at his table,” she said bowing slightly.

“Certainly,” he said and leaned his head forward into his hand, watching her as all her armor clinked against the fine gold chair.

He was wearing a variation of ceremonial gear, lighter and made of velvet. His sleeves were pulled up to reveal his arms likely due to the heat of the room packed with people. His face looked more tired than it had the first time she’d seen him and he appeared to still be working on a glass of wine. She’d watched him drink quite a few throughout the night.

“You must be hungry,” he said, “All that standing around watching this pomp and circumstance,” she looked at him without answer before he said, “You may help yourself if you wish.”

It was a tempting offer but she wondered if it were not also a test. To treat a lowly guard in such a way was unheard of and the way the Empress’ gaze turned slightly in his direction told her as much.

“I couldn’t,” she said and he pouted.

“Please I insist,” he said again, “Or would you refuse my kindness?”

That was all but an order phrased in polite countenance. So Willow pulled her hands behind her helmet and pressed the latch, hearing it click as it disconnected. Slowly she set in on the ground and the Emperor looked most pleased at her obedience. 

“Look at you,” he almost laughed, “Ears and all.”

Garlemald’s vile distaste of other races was certainly no secret, but Willow was surprised to be confronted by it so openly. And by the Emperor of all people. Tactless indeed but perhaps that was just how he ruled.

“I believe his Radiance knew this upon my promotion?” she asked, unwilling to let the remark slide, “I assure you the ears do not inhibit my performance.”

“Ah, I am sorry, that must have seemed as though I was displeased with your visage,” he said. “Quite the opposite. I am fascinated by the other races you see. Take no offense,” and then at that she watched him gather a plate and place several of the untouched pieces of food upon it. Carefully he set it in front of her and she felt a bit like a stray being fed scraps.

Her hunger was not easy to ignore, however, and she took a bite to the Emperor’s extreme pleasure. The way he looked her up and down was a bit intimidating, and she wondered if the offer of kindness was simply not an excuse to pull her helmet off. The Empress wondered as well. She was quiet and complacent but her eyes very obviously wandered between them. The Emperor’s eyes on the other hand had a strange and harrowing wildness to them. All of it pinpointed on her. She felt the massive weight of his stare and wondered what it was he would not say.

“We do not see many of your kind so eager to serve,” he finally spoke and his strange smile widened to show teeth. “What drew you to the army I wonder. Are you so grateful to the Empire who has given you a second chance? Who has allowed you to profit from its overwhelming success?”

It was a question which there was no right answer to. They both understood this and so she took her time in chewing before finally answering with a straight face, “I am simply trying to survive, your Radiance. As I imagine we all are.”

The teeth closed back behind his thin lipped smile, “Ah, the truth. How unexpected. Though I will say it is refreshing to hear after this lot’s sycophantic pandering. If they think they are winning my favor they are as ignorant as their inbred line suggests.”

“Solus,” chided the Empress from across the table.

“Irenia,” he returned with her name in the same tone and then smiled, “Can I not speak my mind in polite company? They are all gone besides and I am the Emperor. I may do as I please.”

“You may do as you please for the good of Garlemald.”

“Yes, yes,” he waved his hand and then looked to Willow as if it was a joke, “It is all for the good of this great country.”

The glare the Empress returned him with suggested that this was a common occurrence. He incited her ire and she reacted predictably in return. It made Willow wonder how things went behind closed doors. Was there any love between them? Was their marriage purely for political convenience? This close the man did not appear to be someone who married for love. He did not appear to be someone who loved at all.

As if to prod his wife further he poured a glass of wine, and slid it across to Willow. Irenia watched as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. As if she knew this was all part of a game he was playing. It likely was. The Emperor was not known for his kindness, nor his philanthropy. More his sharp wit and sharper strategic mind. Nothing was without reason.

She took the glass regardless and looked at him. He did not seem to care if she drank it either way, continuing with his earlier line of questioning.

“From where do you hail? Corvos? Does your family live there still, awaiting your safe return?” he was lounging easily in his chair, looking as if the drink was settling in him quite pleasantly.

She drank the wine then and replied, “One may get nervous hearing the Emperor ask about their family.”

He pouted, “And why is that? Am I not a guardian? A great protector of these lands? Though my cohorts may care for race and gender I have no such qualms. Rest assured I mean to keep them as safe as my own.”

She stared at him for a moment and noticed how Irenia’s face beside him twisted, “Do not let the cabinet hear you speak of such things.”

“What would I do without her,” he said as if she was not there, “They should have me court martialed and hanged for the things I say. How lucky am I to hold the seat of power that should protect me from such unpleasantness.”

“So you are keen to remind yourself, but you know Atticus should love for a reason to turn the cabinet against you,” said Irenia harshly.

He turned to her calmly, “Do you speak of such matters in front of our guest? Perhaps you trust her more than even I.”

Her mouth clamped shut and there was a moment of silence before she said, “I believe I may retire for the night.”

“I think that may be for the best.”

A screeching of the chair as she stood to leave, sparing Willow herself a second glance before leaving through the dining room door. Willow did not realize how much of a comfort her presence had been until it was just her and the Emperor. She took another drink of her wine.

“You did not answer me?” Solus said, holding a stare that demanded an answer.

“You have the right of it,” she returned gruffly, “My family has called Corvos home since the time of Allag.”

She was silently thankful for Thancred’s insistence that she have a full and complete backstory before taking any infiltration mission. She had argued at first that no one would care about her personal history, but here was the Emperor himself all but demanding it.

He hummed in response, chin set on his hand as he watched her finish eating.

“Does his radiance have any further questions for me? If you doubt my qualifications perhaps I can-”

He waved and stopped her, “Oh no, no, nothing like that. Simply curiosity,” he stopped to look at her again. “And do not let me keep you here. You are free to leave if you wish. Excellent work tonight.”

She nodded, “I am gracious for the hospitality you afforded me, your Radiance.”

The Emperor said nothing at first. And then leaned back in the chair with his arms crossed, “How long will it take, I wonder, to break through that polite exterior.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“To reach what I see simmering just beneath the surface.”

She did not reply, she felt her heart beat hard in her throat, she wondered if she had given up everything she had worked for with a single misspoken word. Had she drank the wine in a strange way? Used her fork incorrectly? 

He sighed then, “Oh don’t mind me. I wager I have just had a glass too many,” that toothy smile, “Please, be excused.”

Without hesitation she took her helmet from the table, stood and bowed shortly before leaving. 

Chapter Text

The Imperial Palace contained no end of various war rooms used as meeting places for the Emperor and his entourage. Willow found herself at one such meeting room late in the evening, standing at attention quiet and unmoving inside the door. 

From here she could hear every word spoken between the Emperor and his committee. Every project he set them to, every land they planned to annex in the name of Garlemald. It was all information she stored for later when at last she met with the Scions again. But still there was a part of her that worried this was all too easy, that the Emperor glancing behind him to almost meet her eyes was a show of power. A smug confident look, as if he was making a fool of her in front of his subordinates.

He was about to adjourn the meeting when someone at the end of the table, a quiet Garlean man cleared his throat.

“If I may, your Radiance, I should like to update you on the progress my team and I have made,” he said.

The Emperor sighed heavily and the man shrunk as if he had been physically hit.

“Very well, go ahead.”

The man cleared his throat again as if in nervousness and then stood, “As you know we are in the process of designing the Magitek Weapon Series. And testing has been going adequately, in fact the pilot we had been using in our testing was able to sufficiently meld with the ruby weapon not a week ago.”

Solus looked piqued briefly but then the man continued, “Unfortunately it cost him his life,” and the same bored expression returned to the Emperor’s face.

“My condolences,” he said. “I assume you are in need of a replacement?”

“We are expecting a shipment of corvosi slaves a week from now and they should prove more than sufficient for our further testing,” replied the scientist, a bit more enthusiastic than Willow could stand. 

The Emperor’s mouth was a flat line at the man’s expected pleased response, “So, to reiterate your findings, there have been no findings.”

“Well-” he began.

“Not much different from the last time we spoke.”

“If I may, these things take time,” the scientist shrunk under the Emperor’s displeased gaze.

“Of course, time and sweat and blood and all that. Well I should expect the next time you interrupt me it will be with sufficient success,” and Solus stood as if to signal he was done speaking.

The man bowed his head and said no more and Willow watched as the room cleared out. The Emperor was the last to leave as some few required his ear even further. When finally he left it was with the lazy ease of a large housecat, not quite in a hurry to get anywhere. His eyes found hers and with no helmet to join her armor she felt bare beneath his gaze.

“Escort me to my room won’t you?” he said as he reached the door. His hand touched the soft netting on her armor between her breast plate and shoulder upon the statement. A very clear and deliberate motion so that she would feel him and it set her on edge.

“Of course,” she said simply and fell in stride beside him as he sauntered out the door.

He did not say anything past that and she wondered what he was thinking about. He seemed very bored with the entirety of the meeting, even to the point of clearly grating his closer cabinet members, yet there was not an ounce of concern on his face about it.

Willow thought about the Empress’ words at dinner the prior evening and how laissez faire his Radiance had been about the entire thing. She clearly worried for his safety, or perhaps her own should something happen to him, and yet he would incite infighting in order to further his own ego. It was such ego that had put him here however, and his refusal to take orders or even suggestion was a facet of the Imperial nature.

“You have a question for me?” he asked and the way her head turned to him must have revealed the alarm she felt at the words. As if he had read or mind, or perhaps inferred that for a man of his nature there was always a question to be asked.

“Is that a statement? Or permission to speak freely?” she asked and he returned her with a smile. Pleased at the response and the lack of nerve when speaking to him.

“Permission given of course .”

“You seemed rather,” she took a moment and chewed her words, “Displeased by what takes place under your rule.”

“Displeased? I suppose I was. It is an annoyance that none of my scientists can do their research clean. They are so incapable as to need disposable bodies for when their work goes horribly wrong,” his words ended with a sigh and then his gaze met hers, “But what of that look you're giving me?”

In realization she relaxed her brow. Tried to swallow down the subtle disgust that had set upon her features.

“Do you mourn that your countrymen must be stepped upon for Garlemald to rise to glory? Do you perhaps wish it was our own who died inside our machines? I hear the death was truly gruesome,” he was smiling but it wasn’t quite a true smile. There was clearly no enjoyment on his face and then he sighed. “I am no fool. My people may call you savages but we are just as savage as they. Our methods show the true barbaric nature hidden within, did you know Garleans once lived in tribes? Hunted with bows and spears? You would be surprised it was not so long ago.”

“Then it is truly incredible that your technology has increased at such a rate.”

“Incredible indeed, though they seem to only desire that technology to build war machina for smiting their foes. A bit of a waste if you ask me.”

“You are the Emperor, yes? Could you not forbid such things?” she asked tentatively.

He turned to eye her again, this time with less playful candor, “You think I desire that?”

She was quiet for a moment before saying, “Perhaps I misread, but you seemed to lament the sacrifice of my kin for the greater good of Garlemald. I am only saying that need not be so if-”

“I awarded you permission to speak freely thinking you may have something interesting to say, yet here you are whining and crying about the unfairness of the world? And you think that may change my mind?”

She said nothing else, realizing that she had read far too deeply into his friendly countenance. His seemingly warm demeanor was a front, so that you may show him your true nature and he in turn could snap you in half.

“You and all your ilk lack the resolve to do what is necessary. And that is the reason someone stronger will always come along and crush you under heel. That, my girl, is the nature of the world and no amount of wishing otherwise will change it,” the anger, the tension from his body faded, and again he just looked very tired, “So, mind your place.”

Willow bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Cursing her foolish words and her outward anger towards a man who had no interest in hearing it. She was specifically told to keep quiet lest she reveal her true intentions and she had all but given this man the heart of her without even being asked. She needed to be more careful in the future.

In silence they at last arrived at the Emperor’s bedroom. He opened the door and motioned her away, “Scurry off now.”

For weeks following Willow did as she was bid to and she kept her distance from the Emperor. It was not wise to speak with him, especially when she found it so easy to divulge her thoughts in his presence. She did not know if it was his charismatic nature that had put her so at ease or something else but she concluded it was better to avoid him then find out.

Though such things couldn’t last forever and when a servant reached her with word that the Emperor himself wished to see her in his private quarters she had no choice but to obey.

She knew the way by now and took the elevator leading to the highest floor. Once off it seemed the hallways were completely empty and when she reached his bedroom the door was slightly ajar.

She meant to knock at first but heard the voice of the Empress from inside.

“You already know my thoughts on the matter,” she said in a clipped tone of frustration.

“Oh yes, how could I not,” came the Emperor’s lazy response.

“And you will not listen.”

“Darling, I am a fool who never listens to anyone. You know this already.”

She huffed, “At least you admit it,” then a drawn out sigh, one that resembled the ones she often heard from the Emperor, “Promise me you will stay safe.”

“I would hate to break a promise,” he replied and the Empress responded with a frustrated growl before bursting through the door to their room. Willow was forced to step back, doing her best to look as though she had just arrived.

The Empress was dressed immaculately as always. While men of the Royal family were often required to be in full armor barring special occasions, or barring the Emperor claiming he ‘had no energy for it’, the women were dressed beautifully in rich silks and gowns. The woman’s long blonde hair was braided behind her and her blue eyes darted to the side to catch Willow’s own mismatched gaze.

“Keep him from doing anything foolish,” she said.

Fearing for what she may be told once in the Emperor’s presence she only replied, “I will do my best, your grace.”

The woman nodded shortly and then turned to leave.

“Enjoy eavesdropping on the Imperial family do you?” he called once she was gone, “Catch any interesting bits to sell to the local gossip rag?”

“It was not my intention,” she replied without hesitation, “I only feared interrupting you.”

“Well come in,” he said, “And close the door behind you.”

She did as told and was greeted with his royal highness sans his typical light armor, sans anything actually. He was dressed only in a pair of trousers and the long socks typically worn to fend off the cold of Garlemald’s weather. She thought perhaps she would pretend otherwise and go about as if things were completely normal. But the surprise at what she had seen already made such a thing impossible.

He had always been a bit of an imposing sight in his armor but it appeared he was just as imposing without it. Well built, wide set shoulders. A small amount of weight with a mass of muscle just beneath. He could easily wield a gunblade on the field with his soldiers. Easily hold her down if he wanted to but such a thought hardly had merit on her current situation.

“My, your blushing, how charming,” he said suddenly, and he showed teeth that matched the predatorial whole of him, “I suppose you cannot help your girlish nature. Perhaps I might find it cute were my mood more agreeable.”

She did not know if the words were meant as an insult or not but she straightened out regardless and met his face rather than the rest of him, “I apologize, I simply did not expect to find his highness…indecent.”

He barked a rough laugh, “Indecent you say? Why, I have never been described as such. What bold words.”

The words, though threatening, had an heir of playfulness to them. As if he expected her to return in kind.

And something in her wanted to respond to it, even if it seemed unwise, “Should his Radiance find flattery more to his taste?”

“Indeed,” he replied without hesitation, “Flatter me if you would and then we can get to business.”

She did not respond at first, believing it to be a joke. But he did not stop looking at her, smile growing wider by the second, “Well, go on.”

With his wife gone it seemed she was now the subject for his entertainment, and he had put her in such a position as to have no choice but to comply. Yet she felt true flattery was not what he desired but rather a quick wit.

“Such fair skin, his Radiance has, unmarred by even the faintest of scars.”

His eyes narrowed with his smile, pleased by her barbed words, “My scars are other places, darling, perhaps I will show you some time.”

He took a beat to let her swallow her heart in her throat and then pulled on his undershirt to her relief.

“Now, to business. I mean to meet a dear friend for dinner tonight and I should like that you join me.”

She turned her head at the words, “Would your dear friend not find it strange that you bring your personal guard into his home?”

“Yes,” he answered and she watched him pull on a velvet overcoat. Short cut in the front with a long tail trailing behind him. He pulled up the collar delicately and then went to work tying a wide belt of similar material and intricacy just under his chest.

“And that is what you want,” she said in understanding.

“Yes,” he said as he tied the thing with a kind of practiced deftness. Then he looked at her and smiled, “Do we understand each other?”

She nodded shortly. And then, still feeling too comfortable from their earlier words, said, “I fear I am underdressed for such an occasion.”

“As it should be, I could hardly have my own guard stealing attention from me now could I?” he smiled and then passed through the door and she was left yet again attempting to decipher if it was an insult or a compliment.

The dear friend in question lived a short ways outside the Imperial City and as the Emperor was loath to walk anywhere, and chocobos were essentially nonexistent, they went by personal airship. Willow had to admit she could grow used to such quick travel. 

When they finally arrived the Emperor took her helmet from her lap, where she sat in the back, and fit it onto her head without asking.

“Do your best to look imposing won’t you?” he said before making his way down the exit ramp.

“As you wish, your radiance,” she replied behind him.

It was a bit of a joke, truthfully. She was barely half the size of a Garlean man, and struggled to keep her tail hidden beneath the long cape that trailed behind her. Just another part of her the Garlean race found laughable and unintimidating. She wondered if she was not the butt of everyone's joke at this dinner rather than a trusted guard meant to protect the most important man in the realm.

Regardless she followed closely behind him and watched him easily slip into a practiced mask. The friendly smile of the Emperor, who every citizen was eager to invite into their home but just as eager to see him leave. For he brought with him the power of a nation and any word misspoken was a threat to your own house, and perhaps even your life.

When she stood beside him at the entrance she gained a look from his dear friend. A raised brow at her head standing nearly shoulder length with the Emperor himself. 

“Atticus,” addressed the Emperor with a curt nod and with surprise, Willow realized the danger they were both in and the reason for the Empress’ worry.

Judging by the the Royal family’s argument at dinner not a fortnight prior, Atticus was not one of Solus’ biggest supporters. One might go so far as to call him a dissenter according to the Empress. Likely this dinner was not so innocent as it appeared. Though it seemed one would be a fool to challenge the Emperor so openly would they not?

“What need have you for a guard in my home,” Atticus bellowed in a laugh, and Willow gained the impression he knew Solus before he was Emperor Solus. Perhaps during their time in the army.

“Oh you know my dear lady, she worries too much for her own good,” said Solus’ without pause, “It is she who insisted I appoint a bodyguard you know.”

“Ah,” he responded in understanding, “These women cannot trust a man to handle their own business,” and then a raucous of laughter, “I understand now why you appointed a foreigner. Why, the creature is nearly half your size.”

Solus noticeably did not laugh in return. Only a tense, trying smile passed his lips.

He hummed, “Yes. Should she be needed she will be right outside. But we both know that will not be necessary,” he turned to her and nodded towards the door.

She almost spoke in defiance but the mischievous glint in his eyes made her think better of it, she only bowed her head and did as told, “Of course your grace.”

Willow was unsure if Solus possessed a plan should things go awry, but what she was sure of was the freezing, unbearable weather outside Atticus’ manor. Doubtless Solus had not given her comfort a second thought when giving the order, and despite the lining in her armor she was beginning to shiver. 

Nonetheless it was to her benefit to be here with him, in the action and the potentiality for assassination. If she were a wiser woman she may have seen some way to turn this in her favor, work with members of the cabinet who already wanted to see the Emperor dead. But she felt small here on this playing field for the wealthy and powerful. And to add to the difficulty she was a foreigner, doubtless she would be hanged for collaborating in his demise while the Garlean members of the plot played perfectly innocent.

So she only stood and shivered in the cold, making note of any sudden movements, or strange changes within the scenery. Such changes were hard to see within the howling blizzard, however, a blizzard that only grew stronger with each passing moment. She made a sound of discomfort and wrapped her arms around her person. Wanting to stay alert but also desperate for warmth. It struck her as funny that this was the thing that made her regret offering herself to this job. Not the danger, not the grueling hours serving in the Imperial military, no, it was the cold. It made her wish for the warm sunlight peering between the boughs of the Shroud in her home.

With a sudden sharp noise she was pulled from her reverie. Even over the howling wind the snap and spark of the airship behind her caught her attention. She turned worriedly to inspect it. The pilot too, who had been lounging in the airship despite Willow’s direct orders to stand outside, seemed surprised by the crashing.

“Anti-air machina,” he said bewildered as she peered into the cockpit. His hand went to the various levers and buttons of the machine, pushing in futility as the ship refused to start. Then he looked up at her and even with his mask and tinted goggles she could read the anger in his body language, “What the bloody hells are you standing out here for? His Radiance is in danger.”

Without a word in response she hurried back into the estate, only to find the door locked from entry. Inside she could hear shouting and a clash of blades. The Emperor was on his own and unless some few at the dinner had turned in his favor it was likely he was outnumbered. She ran through her options briefly. If he did in fact die inside all alone her job would be done for her and she could simply escape on foot before the news spread.

However the man was somewhat terrifying and if he did happen to survive and her desertion was made obvious, she was certain there were no lengths he wouldn’t go to to hunt her down and see to her punishment personally. She sighed inwardly before pulling her gunblade from her back and taking a shot through the lock, then she forcefully shoved what little weight she had into the door to see its hinges swing open.

The shouting immediately grew louder until a single shot silenced it and when she finally got to the dining room the scene was a massacre. In the middle of the bloodbath stood Solus zos Galvus, a gunblade in his hand and not one that he had arrived with. A thin coating of blood dripped from its blade and in the corner huddled against the wide windows of the room was an older woman. Pulled in on herself with an utterly mortified expression on her face, finely braided hair undone and stuck to her face. The man’s wife, Willow could only assume.

“A bit late to the party,” he barked at her entry, sharp teeth and wide smile. “Pity.”

“Monster,” breathed the woman in the corner and the man with sharp teeth turned to her.

“Oh hush, won’t you darling? Had your loving husband not forced my hand there’d have been no need for such unpleasantness. Alas, you’d hardly expected me to lay down my arms in surrender had you?”

“You will burn Garlemald to the ground,” she said, still breathless.

Solus seemed to turn and think once about it before stepping closer to her. Willow silently begged for the woman to shut her mouth but it seemed almost as though she wanted to die herself.

With his attention focused on the wife Willow’s ears picked up a sound behind her. She turned slightly to see a figure push itself out of a hatch within the kitchen. A young boy, not hardly of fifteen summers with a pistol in his hand. Thoughtless and quick, he shoved himself into the room to take aim at the Emperor whose head raised in giddy delight. But before the shot could go off Willow tore his arms behind his back, knee between his shoulders on the ground and her blade at his throat.

The woman let out a horrifying shriek, “Valens,” she shouted, “Please. Please do not hurt him, he is just a boy, he knows no better.”

Solus looked at her with eyes narrowed and an unimpressed expression for all her begging, “Boys learn from their fathers do they not?”

“He had nothing to do with this,” she choked.

From underneath her Willow could practically feel the boy's heart in his throat. No thought given from one move to the next, only a sense of loyalty and now a deep resounding fear. Short red hair mussed and face splotted with dirt, no doubt from hiding in the mansion’s cellar while the deed took place.

Like a languid wolf Solus took his paces to greet the boy. Behind her were the choking sobs of a grieving wife and fearful mother. Willow, as well, feared what he would do next and every part of her was crying out to intervene. 

He kneeled to better meet the boy’s ruddy face and the fear in Valens’ expression turned sharply to anger. He spit in the older man’s eye and like powder from a gun Solus’ hand wrenched around his jaw, pulling his neck ever closer across the blade. His touch was harsh and vicelike and Valens knew better than to pull from it.

“I do not think you understand the danger you’re in, boy,” said Solus, anger dripping from him now that he crushed younger beneath his grip, “The Empire suffers no fools nor rats within its walls and your dear father was both. Your familial loyalty I commend but it is not worth dying for. The only pride in death is one given for your countrymen, do you understand?”

Willow stayed silent and so did the boy, eyes narrowed and young face full of anger. 

“Stupid boys get a bullet between their eyes, smart boys say ‘yes your Radiance.’”

The boy’s anger faded to reluctance when he looked to his mother behind Solus’ imposing figure. And to Willow’s relief Valens spoke, “Yes, your Radiance.”

“Good,” Solus said shortly and the hand wrenched around his jaw released to pat him once on the head. “Let him go,” he commanded to Willow who did so willingly and once set free Valens returned to his mother, allowing her to wrap her arms around him before his disdainful expression turned back to the Emperor.

Solus paid him no mind, instead surveying the several corpses still littering the ground with his hands on his hips. There was an expression that crossed his face, perhaps regret? But he quickly muted it and turned to the doorway.

“Let us be off then and put this dreadful business behind us,” he said simply.

Willow nodded, as willing to leave the scene behind as he.“I believe the airship has been rendered defunct by anti air machina ,” she said, pretending as if she at all understood those words.

He smiled sharply as if he was not fooled and then said, “Not to worry, easy enough to fix.”

They made their way outside, steps crunching in the newfallen snow and the Emperor’s bloodied boots leaving red in the white. The pilot was outside the airship now, looking as though he had pulled several parts of it off in a bid to get it working again. His movements grew more frantic upon hearing the two of them approach.

“Your Radiance I- rest assured it will only be a moment-”

“Step aside,” Solus said exhausted, “I will have no more of your bumbling hand.”

The pilot paused briefly and then snapped, “Of course.”

The both of them watched as Solus examined the damage done to the airship, placing his hand across its various inner mechanics. His other hand he kept tucked in the pocket as if to fend off the cold. With a strange aetherial spark the engine hummed to life once again and Solus unceremoniously shut the latch and motioned for the pilot to resume his duties. He huddled behind Willow to allow her in first, in a surprising act of chivalry given all that had transpired, and then pulled himself to the sitting area in the front.

Willow of course took to the back, as was appropriate for servants of the Imperial family. That was until the Emperor snapped his fingers at her.

“Up here with me, I should like to speak with you,” he demanded.

As the airship roared in take-off Willow precariously found her way to the front, taking a seat that was no doubt meant for the Empress. Solus was already pouring himself a glass of wine, and then one for her. Willow didn’t feel much like putting anything in her stomach after the bloody display she had witnessed, but she took it anyway in an effort to be polite. This also led to her pulling her helmet off which, if she was being honest, seemed to be the entire point of the glass of wine.

Each time Solus looked at her, bare-faced, ears and all, she felt his eyes roam. Felt them peer deeper than just her exterior. The feeling was nerve-wracking, it made her want to cover herself up from him but she did not know how, did not know why. 

His thin lipped smile gave way to teeth and he spoke to her, “So how do you find your station? I daresay you did not expect to see so much action so soon.”

“I am only glad I could be of some use,” Willow replied. “Though if I may, it seems his Radiance is quite capable of protecting himself.”

He barked a laugh, “Many are keen to forget I was a Legatus myself once, that sort of knowledge hardly fades with time. But if it is any consolation I was glad to have brought you, otherwise I may have taken a bullet between the eyes.”

Willow was unsure how true the statement was. The look upon his face when the boy pulled the gun still stuck with her. That was not a man who believed he was going to die.

“I told you I would prove myself worthy, I hope this is just one small step in that.”

“Yes,” he said curiously, “You do good work,” and as he spoke his hand touched her thigh. It seemed a friendly gesture but given the sharp armor she was wearing there was not much point to it. His palm pressed harder, he smiled at her and made an inquisitive sound then pulled back to sip his wine.

The Emperor had restless hands, she realized. Always talking with animation or touching fondly those he spoke to. At the silence between them his head turned out the window. His hair was tossed somewhat from the fighting and there was an angry bruise growing right below his neckline. Had one of them tried to choke him?

It was obvious the fight was not as easily won as he’d like her to believe, but he seemed no worse for wear. Upon feeling her eyes his own turned to her in realization.

“Yes I fear when my ladywife sees the state I’m in she will be most distressed,” he seemed fairly unconcerned with the thought, “If only I had thought to bring a healer on board,” then he tsked.

He took another sip from his glass while Willow’s still sat untouched and continued, “You do not happen to know any magic do you? I know you served as a footsoldier, but I fear many of our conscripts hide their magical prowess for fear of what our kind may do.”

He was correct on both accounts and looking at her as if he already knew. It took her perhaps too long to consider whether lying would save her cover or out it entirely. 

“I know some,” she answered finally and the snarl like smile that graced his face still did not tell her if that was the right thing to say.

Then he pouted, “Would you be so kind?” he set down his wine and took his hand to pull back the collar, fully exposing the raw mark to her as well as his throat.

She took a beat before beginning to unlatch her armguards and finally pull back her leather gloves. All the while he sat there watching her, throat exposed and yet still with the eyes of a hungry predator. They were in small quarters and if he meant to out her treachery and then dump her body over the mountainside where no one could find, he could do so easily. 

Without more time to consider it she pressed her hand to his throat.

It felt wrong to be doing this. To touch him. He was the Emperor, revered, worshiped, above the common man. Though she was not one of them it was hard to not view him as such, given the treatment his stature afforded him. And given how small she felt when in his presence.

She could feel his pulse.

“You will have to forgive me, it has been a long time since I’ve used my magic. It may be rather poor form,” she forced the words from her throat when his mouth opened just slightly and those golden eyes found hers.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know the difference,” he responded smoothly.

She felt white magic warm her hand and in turn warm his skin. Electric in the touch between them and she focused on the bruised muscle beneath. He sat perfectly still under her hand, looking at her from beneath long lashes. 

It surprised her how quiet he was through the entirety of it and when at last she pulled back he smiled and said quietly, “Fascinating.”

Without waiting for her response he took her hand and she had to stop herself from pulling back on contact. His thumb pressed the middle of her palm, pressure then directing outward. As if he was fascinated by the feat she had just performed, as if he wanted to feel the act himself. His hand was warm and calloused from all his time wielding a gunblade, he said nothing as he held it there and neither did she. 

She cleared her throat nervously, “His Radiance is pleased with the job I have done?”

“Yes,” he murmured, and his studying eyes moved with his feeling hands up her wrist. Pulled back her sleeve and up her arm. She feared how far he would go, this wolf who’s sharp teeth pulled at her flesh, this man who viewed her now slathering with some kind of hunger.

She knew not if he was displeased, if the fascination led to anger or, somehow more worrying, desire.

“His Radiance, wishes to know how I perform such magics?” she asked because speaking was the only way she could keep herself from pulling away in fear.

He did not answer, continuing to touch her before he said, “ Oh . Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Yes.

“No.”

He smiled wide and finally held her stare, before letting go and pulling back.

“Funny thing,” he said, “Eager to spar words with me but just as eager to hide within yourself like a quiet little mouse. You should know I prefer one more than the other.”

And her mind raced at the correct answer to the words he was throwing at her, at what exactly he desired. 

“Feel free to be bold with me,” he said, “That is if there is something that moves you to speak.”

She did not know, exactly, what that meant. He obviously did not want to be told no, did not want her to pull back and slap his hand. So it seemed he was expecting rather the opposite. Was this..was this desire then?

He smiled flatly and she still did not respond. Her mind told her she should given that she was still portraying herself as the quiet little mouse he explicitly hated. But any amount of words seemed as though they would come out in the wrong order and only make him angrier. So she just nodded. The Emperor didn’t seem to care for any more conversation after that and only returned to looking out the window. Finishing the rest of his wine and then putting his chin on his hand in quiet consideration.

By the time they landed back at the Imperial Palace Willow was unsure if he still desired her as his personal guard. But he allowed her out first and then pat a hand at her back affectionately before leaving. She had to assume he’d have had her arrested on the spot if his feelings were negative. Likely he just wanted to keep her around to see what she would do, to use as entertainment when the rest of his contingent bored him. To touch and watch and smile at her strangely. Willow feared when next they would be in close quarters with each other.

Chapter Text

The Emperor had many rooms within his castle and the more Willow resided within it the more she began to realize the places he disappeared to. Especially when he was trying to avoid his many Imperial duties. 

Currently said Imperial duty was the attendance of a ceremony, held in honor of his soldiers safe return from their Corvosi takeover. All the highest ranking of his Radiance’s officers would be in attendance and yet the head of the Imperial army himself was nowhere to be found. Willow was just one of many people currently on the lookout and a part of her prayed she would not be the one to find him.

Her steps were not particularly a woman in a hurry, and she checked rooms that had surely been checked ten times over by various other servants of the house. Currently she found herself in the Emperor’s personal study. The room was not terribly large, filled with various bookshelves and a wide wooden desk in the middle. A fireplace off to the side that looked as though it had stood unlit for some time. 

She did a courtesy sweep of the perimeter, as if to pretend she was genuinely doing her job, and then made her way to the exit. Before she could step through the threshold of the door, however, she heard a sound come from the back wall. She turned her head to see the wall slide back on its hinges slightly, and who should lean against the open space, looking quite unconcerned, but the Emperor himself.

“Looking for me?” he pouted, attempting to look at least a bit guilty.

Willow stared at him a moment in surprise, a look he thoroughly enjoyed, before saying, “Yes, your Radiance, everyone is,” then she paused, “But I’ve a feeling you know that already.”

He feigned offense and put a hand to his chest, “You think I enjoy worrying my subjects and my dear wife besides? I simply lost track of time,” which seemed to imply he meant to follow her back. Instead, he simply stared at her for an inordinate amount of time. She stared back with an inquisitive look adorning her brow. And then he widened the door for her. “Come in won’t you?”

She was frustrated, and tired, and very much did not want to come in. She was sure her expression betrayed as much but Solus did not seem to care. He only waved his hand impatiently when she did not move.

“Of course,” she said simply and he laughed a bit at her reluctant following of orders.

Where Solus’ personal study matched the common architecture of the Imperial Palace, this room was something else entirely. A wide arched ceiling held up by intricate black metalwork and wide windows that curved at the top, giving way to the snowstorm outside. All across the wall were various bookshelves and tables with strange arcane science she had no name for. A sitting area was in the middle, presumably for him alone. And a bright light, powered by aether rather than Garlemald’s typical ceruleum electricity, hung down from the vaulted ceiling.

“Promise not to tell,” he said coyly at her clearly impressed expression.

“I know better than to divulge the Emperor’s dirty secret,” she responded in turn and his eyes flashed in approval.

And though she phrased it as if she were following a command, something about this room was strangely intimate. A room he kept only to himself, that likely not even the Empress knew of. Yet he had afforded her knowledge of it. Why?

She took her time walking around the wooden floor, studying the bits and pieces across the tables. Her hand settled on a starlit globe filled with the constellations she saw as a girl in the Eorzean sky. She turned it slowly and traced the shapes with her hand. The Emperor watched her with his arms crossed, an easy position and inquisitive expression.

He was looking for something from her. That much was obvious. Her words were ever weighed carefully around him but this time doubly so.

“I must say, I am impressed,” she said.

He looked disheartened, scowling slightly, “I did not bid you enter so that you may stroke my ego.”

She had forgotten that unbefitting of a typical emperor he hated such vapid praise and empty platitudes. The truth then.

“One has to wonder why the Emperor has artifacts many would consider taboo or even forbidden within your countrymen.”

“Good,” he said as if it sated him, “An obvious question but well enough,” then that snake like smile passed his lips, “I’ve always had a certain fascination with the arcane. Despite our lack of ability I see many ways in which magic could work in our favor,” he twirled his hand, “Of course should my congress hear those words it may stop their weary old hearts,” then he barked a laugh.

“Then the need for secrecy is obvious,” she replied, looking to him, and then back to a tome that must have been eons old.

“Indeed.”

Her hand traced the cover, pulling back the pages gently to see the scrawlings of summoning runes within. It caused him to cross the distance between them, and she felt his weight and heat at her shoulder.

“You like that one?” he asked and there was a restrained excitement to his tone.

“Would his Radiance have me hanged should I say I have a passing interest in the arcane as well?”

That sharp smile widened, “It would hardly be wise of me would it? Considering my dirty little secret you are now in possession of,” then he paused and turned his head, “The tome. Consider it yours.”

It was her turn to laugh, “You know full well what your parliament would do to me should this be found on my person.”

“Foolish girl, do not take it with you,” he said as if baffled by her stupidity.

“Then..”

“This place, consider it yours as well as mine. Now that you know the way in I shall not consider you a trespasser should I find you here,” he responded matter of factly.

She looked at him incredulously at first, “That is most gracious of you, though again I would have to ask why? ”

His mouth pulled to a line as if he was thinking, a kind of sighing sound came from him before his bare hand cupped under her chin. She was forced to meet his eyes and wild smile. 

“You and I are not so different. Surrounded by savages, forced to play our part. There is a loneliness in that I think. An isolation in being so surrounded by those you would never call your kin,” and it seemed he meant to imply her foreign race, though Willow could not help but wonder if there was more to it. And that coupled with the bizarre reference to his own nature. 

Nevertheless he still smiled sweetly, “I thought perhaps I could offer you my own refuge for when the burden of loneliness becomes too much.”

She stood with her face held in his hand and he looked at her as if she was just a small thing. As if laid out in his palm like this it would be a trivial matter to crush her entirely. Willow felt that weight. Oppressive, hungry.

“You are grateful?” he asked when she had been quiet for too long.

“Of course,” she answered quickly and he hummed as if pleased by the words.

His hand moved from her chin to her throat. It roamed under the neckline of her armor, down her shoulder. Firm and direct, as it had been that night in the airship. But still she stayed quiet, caught in his eyes and hands. She did not know what was allowed and what was not. So she stood unmoving and took it, and tried to pretend none of it felt good. 

He hummed again, “There are other things I can give as well, should she be willing,” his other hand found her face and she was pulled close as he dipped his head close to hers, “Should she find she likes the touch,” hot breath, nearly a whisper, and it started her heart in a worrying way. She knew she should deny him but her mouth would not move. He took her silence as permission and dipped his head close, lips brushing against her hair, enveloping her as if to prevent escape, as if to swallow her whole.

“Your Radiance?” barked the muffled voice of someone outside the hallway, judging by the distance it was only a short ways from the Emperor’s office. It appeared the rest of the guard was at their wits end, shouting the halls in futility.

He grasped her gently and she could feel his disappointment. Then he let her go, “Consider it won’t you?” he said pleasantly, “Now ‘tis time for the show to continue, let us make it a good one no?”

And then he was gone.

Meeting with the scions was a difficult and infrequent endeavor. One in which Willow needed absolute solitude and high ground in order for her linkshell to work properly. It had been easier when training in the eastern mountains, harder now that she spent most of her time in the palace. But it had been long enough that she chanced to leave and find the highest hill she could manage on the outskirts of the city.

“Willow,” spoke Thancred, “Gods it’s good to hear your voice. What news do you bring?”

“Well,” she began and paused, “I am Imperial bodyguard to the Emperor now.”

“What?” he sputtered, “That’s..more than we could have hoped for. And you are sure your cover stays safe?”

“As far as I know,” she answered in a wavering tone. “I have seen no signs otherwise. But I will say the Emperor is quite a shrewd man. He is hard to read and I have my work cut out for me.”

“I can imagine so, considering the things we’ve all heard,” Thancred’s voice crackled over the linkpearl.

Willow gave him what news she could, where and when the army was planning to strike, all the while feeling it was far too easy. She could tell by Thancred’s tone he thought so as well.

“There is one more thing,” she added, feeling like she needed to tell someone before she lost her mind, “I believe the Emperor might be…courting me?”

There was a short silence and then a single disbelieving laugh, “I am sorry?” and then muttered after a beat, “He is a married man but I suppose given his nature it should not surprise me.”

“I do not believe he and the Empress married for love,” she said shortly, staring out the snowy horizon from up on her perch.

“Is that a wistful romanticism I hear in your voice?” Thancred asked in surprise, “Do you forget your reason for being here? And the danger besides?”

“Of course not. It will not interfere.”

“You already risk a great deal by being here, loathe am I to put you in a position where you get more than your life taken from you.”

Willow tilted her head down slightly in consideration, “No. I can handle whatever comes.”

“That was not what I meant,” said Thancred and Willow was quiet for a moment.

“This may sound strange but. I trust nothing will be taken from me that I do not freely give.”

Thancred sighed, “Well. I cannot say I like it but it is your call. Stay safe then, we will be watching.”

“You as well,” she said and then he was gone. Leaving her in the quiet snow to consider the heaviness of her position. And the emperor’s teeth on her neck.

Chapter Text

You are to come with me.

Are you expecting danger?

Always! But it is not likely. I have made this trip many times, and never has there been any trouble. But I’m sure I can wrangle some up if you like.

No danger would be preferable, your grace.

Such was the conversation that now found Willow on a large airship bound for Landis, and upon it not but the Emperor, several guards, and she herself. Technically she was within the description of a guard but time was beginning to make her feel ostracized from that position. She didn’t do much guarding but she did do much entertaining of the Emperor whenever he was bored.

She had not, of course, taken him up on his offer since their time in his study. Though she believed he was being truthful, and it was in fact a gift offered to her, it felt too strange and unsafe for her to actually go there alone. She feared she would get caught and out his secret, or worse that she would run into him already enjoying solidarity and be trapped in another uncomfortable encounter.

After doing her due diligence and checking every section of the airship for the aforementioned trouble the Emperor offered to wrangle up, she found herself staring over the balcony as the ship cruised slowly to their destination. She’d not had much time to enjoy the view from the air, especially not on Solus’ personal ship. And she realized now just how high up they were. She stared down at clouds and the occasional flock of birds far below her.

“You take to the air far better than I expected,” chimed Solus from behind her.

She quickly pulled her head up from where she had been leaning, “It is an incredible view.”

He sidled up beside her, leaning over the balcony and clasping his hands together, “Indeed it is. The world seems far more beautiful up here does it not?”

Willow thought about her response for a moment before saying, “I think it just as beautiful from down below.”

His face lit up, “My how charming. Terribly naive, but charming none the less,” he pat her on the shoulder, those roaming hands of his again, “Take the helmet off won’t you? I would like to see with whom I speak.” She did as bid, unlatching the helmet and letting it drop to her feet. Solus reached out and brushed her hair from her eyes without asking, “Much better.”

The Emperor’s eyes were hungry, and he leaned his considerable weight against the balcony and turned to face her, “I cannot help but notice you have spurned my offer.”

This she was expecting, and surprisingly still had no response. His head turned at her silence.

“It is a generous offer of course, but I feared interrupting you should I barge in unannounced.”

He barked a laugh, “Barge in all you want my dear, nothing I do in that room requires such concentration that you would be unwelcome.”

He was properly cornering her and he knew it.

“Then perhaps I will visit upon our return,” she said the words he desired and he looked pleased.

“Anytime.”

Then the both of them looked back over the clouds in silence. 

“Where was it you hailed from? Corvos you said?” he asked after a moment.

“Yes,” she answered.

“We will be passing there shortly. I do hope your family is in good health,” and the words did sound genuine. Surprisingly sincere.

“As do I. I miss them greatly,” and then she looked at him and the strange kindness in his eyes, “And thank you.”

He nodded and then pushed himself back, “Best get some rest while you can. If I know how these things go, we will hardly have time to catch our breath once we set foot on land.”

The Emperor was right about that, it was much walking and shaking hands and giving short speeches to rally the soldiers. Every Garlean there desired his attention and wanted to give him the attention they thought he desired in return. She knew in reality he’d rather be napping under a tree somewhere, or hiding away in a room. But he played the part well and that strained smile never left his face 

The day ended with a competitive arms display given by the soldiers. A barbaric contest in which they fought each other to first blood. The soldiers themselves seemed to quite enjoy the display but she caught Solus yawning once or twice in the midst of it, she was sure it did not go unnoticed by the rest.

At last it seemed the both of them were released from their exhaustive duties and Willow merely stood to the side as some few Legatus spoke in hushed tones with their Emperor. Then she watched him wave his hand dismissively and the group of them saluted before leaving him, finally, alone.

He stood staring over the empty field for a moment, taking in the sight with a strange brevity. Then his head turned to her, eyes narrowed.

“Are you going to gawk or are you going to do your job?”

She jolted slightly from her position leaned against the tree. She had been watching from the sidelines, lulled into a sense of safety given how many soldiers surrounded her. Solus had a look of distaste on his face and it spurned her to hurry to meet him.

“A guard should ever be at her Emperor’s side, no? Or have you grown complacent so soon?”

“Of course not, your grace, I had only thought to give you your space,” she tried her best to speak calmly despite her racing heart.

His brow raised in a somewhat mocking way, “Well how kind. I am sure any vicious assassins would have thought so as well.”

“It will not happen again,” her head bowed.

He barked a laugh then, cadence changing from angry to light so quickly she did not know what reaction was appropriate, “At ease, soldier. I only jest,” then the laugh died slowly in his throat, “Look at you, so quick to fall in line.”

Willow replied with a look she often gave him that conveyed something along the lines of ‘you cannot be serious.’

He smiled and shrugged dramatically, “I do not expect you to stand at attention through these grueling political affairs. Besides all that I think I have proven myself more than capable of fending off any would be attempts on my life.”

The statement brought to mind something Willow had considered ever since the night he was referring to. More so even after his strange affection. A nagging suspicion.

“Permission to speak freely, your Radiance?”

He took a moment as if considering it and then smiled wickedly again, “You needn’t ask, let me hear your unapologetic and heretical words.”

“Is it true, what you said to Atticus?” she asked as he peered at her from beneath those long lashes of his, ever seeking yellow eyes baring through her mismatched ones. “Was my appointment purely a courtesy to your wife?”

He hummed and crossed his arms, “You wonder if I desire to make a mockery of you? Do you feel I have treated you as such?”

A loaded question to be sure and so she only replied, “You have treated me with the respect you would afford any soldier, and you have required my attendance at the majority of your meetings. So I suppose no is the answer.”

He was staring at her from his considerable height and she almost wished she’d have stayed quiet when asked, “Is there an addendum to that statement?”

I feel you have appointed me to keep me as your pet , but the words do not leave her mouth, only continued silence and then, “No your grace.”

He hummed again, tapping his fingers against his arm as if in thought, or agitation, “You wish to prove yourself? Have I perhaps wounded your ego?”

And the worst part of the statement was that he was correct. She did feel slightly offended at the implication, she did wish to prove herself useful to him. To prove herself worthy of her station. Or perhaps his affection, a more terrifying thought than all of it. There was no explaining the strange feeling that overtook her when he looked at her like that. As if he wished to give her the world and crush her under his heel in equal measure. And he smiled wide like a wolf when she nodded.

“I know it is up to me to earn such respect, perhaps doubly so due to the tail beneath my armor, but I hope you see me as capable,” Willow answered.

“Earn respect hm?” he asked and then walked away from her, languidly pacing the practice yard as if he was looking for something.

She watched him in curiosity as he disappeared behind a shed, only to see him reappear with a wooden cane in hand. He took a few steps between them and then tossed it to her. Willow caught it with ease and stared at it. A simple design, made from a white oak local to the area. Curved at the top with a small blade at the bottom. Likely for the few conscript mages that stayed at the base with the true soldiers, noticeably absent when the Emperor came to visit. 

She looked up at him with her brow creased in question.

“You’ve no need to hide yourself from me here, I know well you are blessed with magic for you showed me yourself,” he said somewhat smugly.

She sighed, “So I did.”

“Besides I have seen your prowess with the blade, I would far more enjoy seeing your foreign magicks in action.”

Then she watched him pick up a gunblade of his own, gloved hands deftly pulling open the canister and checking for ammunition, then checking the safety and swinging the thing over his arm. He could not be serious.

“You wish for me to spar with you?” she asked with a hint of alarm to her voice.

“Well yes,” he said as if it was obvious, taking steps to shorten the distance between them, “Do you disagree?”

“I highly doubt his royal entourage would enjoy seeing magic being slung at their Emperor, for play or no.”

“ Oh , I see the problem now. How silly of me,” then he put a hand on her shoulder, “Rest assured I will pardon you of all crime, even should you be the one to win our little match,” his hand at her shoulder stayed, gripped and shook her in her armor a bit, “Hm, but this will not do. An unfair advantage I think.”

Willow opened her mouth to ask what he meant until he put his hands on her and began taking off her armor. Bit by bit, he unclipped each piece with a deftness that suggested familiarity. She said nothing, shocked into silence, standing still as his hands worked quickly. Then he reached her waist, slowly unfastened her belt and the armor that guarded her thigh. He leaned down into the dirt to better reach it and her face felt uncomfortably hot as those hands brushed between her legs. As they took too long in pulling back. The pressure of his hand against her leg made her speak to calm her heart.

“Your grace allow me, please, you need not sully yourself on my account.”

He did not look up to meet her eyes, focusing intently on each piece of armor, but a smile did cross his face, “Oh I am quite inclined to sully myself, darling, quite good at it too.”

The words did not help the heat on her face and soon he had pulled the entire ensemble off, leaving her only in a pair of thick leggings, shin high boots, and her collared undershirt. Despite still wearing clothes she felt strangely bare in front of him. 

He himself still stood in the ceremonial gear of the Emperor. She thought it must surely be uncomfortable in the sweltering heat of Landis despite his lack of complaining. And it was certainly an inappropriate outfit to fight in, offering little movement and weighing him down.

“Should you not shed your armor as well?” she offered before she could choke back the suggestion.

His brow raised as if in surprise, “Why, I suppose you’re right. ‘Tis only fair,” and she watched as he began to undress.

Gloves first, pulled off slowly as if the most delicate thing on his person. Then the coat. He shrugged it off after unlatching the belt and folded it gently, hanging it over the fence that surrounded them. Willow saw the focus he put into the task and his eyes never raised to hers despite surely knowing she watched. His lengthy robe was the next to go, pulled off at the back. And it struck her how elegantly he moved. Even the simplest thing was done with grace, as if to suggest he had done it many times before.

Soon he was left only in a cuffed white undershirt. Something he pulled up to bare his forearms, and unbuttoned at the throat. He gave a kind of sound of relief, as if the considerate weight of the garments was a burden to him and then turned his head at her in curiosity.

“Does this suffice?”

“Indeed, now there shall be no question in fairness when I beat his highness cleanly at his own game,” she replied lightly and was rewarded with his genuine smile.

He laughed, a rough thing in his throat, “Good, good, to first blood then.”

He then picked up the gunblade set by the fenceside near where his coat now lay. He took a moment feeling the weight in his hand and Willow realized that she too should familiarize herself with her weapon. It had been some time since she’d fought with her native magic, spending an arduous time instead learning the ways of the gunblade. She liked to think she’d become fairly skilled at it but perhaps not skilled enough as the foremost commander of the country. Magic might truly fare her better here if she could shake off the rust from her aetherial system.

Slowly she outstretched her hand, pulling the warmth of aether to it. And from several steps across the field Solus watched her curiously. His face was placid, betraying no thoughts about the foreign magic that now lay in front of him. His eyes, however, tore her apart. Staring straight through her as they often did. She felt almost as though they watched the process itself. Aether pulled from the core of her soul, her beating heart, out to her palm and through her staff. He watched it with a kind of hunger and she did not know if such hunger was dangerous.

“Very well, are you prepared Miss Yen?” he asked.

And what a strange way to refer to her. Not by her guard title, not sas Yen , but Miss. An almost term of endearment. It caught her off guard. Solus himself did not seem to find it strange but he did find her lack of quick answer annoying. She caught his narrowed eyes in time to reply, “On your lead.”

His lead was slow and calculated and she watched him eye her and pace the ground between them. Dirt crunching under the sole of his boot and Willow watched with one hand raised to guard herself and cane pulled back behind her body. A typical caster defensive stance allowing for quick magic in response to a blow. When the distance was closer than she would have liked a smile twitched at the corner of Solus’ mouth. It was hard to decipher what it meant and she didn’t have time to, for he leapt at her with the speed and grace of any commander of war.

She turned away from the blade, countered with a flash of white aether of her own, but Solus was just as deft on his feet as she. It was strange to see him move so quickly, he never moved anywhere quickly. Languid and slow to the frustration of others. But this was fast like a spark, a fire roaring as he bared down on her once again. This time she parried with the blade at her cane, allowing the weight of the gunblade to slide away from her. 

But Solus would not be deterred. He was quick like a storm, blow after blow giving her no time to commit to a cast. Soon it had her panting and that snarling smile never left his face as he watched. She began to work her mind for an opening, a way to catch him and his endless energy off guard. Her feet were backing up quickly with each blow, heel spinning to avoid the thin blade he pointed in her direction.

He was not exactly being careful, many of his strikes had the possibility to cause severe damage were they to hit their mark. Either he trusted in her skill or more likely he cared little to injure her. It had the adrenaline running in her blood, a feeling she’d had little experience with since that night in Atticus’ home. And even that had been too short. She had forgotten how much she loved the thrill of battle, relished in it, and soon she had found her way to the half shed at the edge of the practice yard. 

Walls enclosing a littering of supplies and unkept weapons. She danced her way behind the posts. It allowed Solus’ strikes to fall short and her a single breath to cast back at him. He dodged again but with less grace than before. So he was tiring after all. 

“Hiding are we,” he huffed out and she was somewhat satisfied he was at least kept on his toes.

“Is combat not about using all the tools at your disposal?” she asked, perhaps more smugly than she should have.

She bolted her magic at him again and watched him parry it cleanly with the broad side of the blade. That was something she’d never seen one of his kind do and it struck her with a brief feeling of awe.

“Sounds like foreigner drivel, guerrilla warfare is a tactic of savages. Straightforward brutality is the modus operandi of any true Garlean,” he called back.

“Then what stops you from your straightforward brutality?” she asked from behind her post, “Are you holding back on me, your Radiance?” Perhaps she was enjoying this a bit too much, the adrenaline and aether burning in her blood had emboldened her.

He chuckled darkly, “Want the full brunt of my force do you? You would not survive it.”

The way he said it was not with pride. He said it coldly, as if it was a fact, as if he were shielding her from it. It caused her to pause briefly, enough time for him to chase her from her hiding, to sidle behind and take a strike at her, leaving her on the run yet again. But she’d be damned if he bested her here, especially with the question of her worth up in the air.

The question of her worth and her cover besides. And though it had been some time since she’d done so, she felt her aether well within her chest. Pulled it down her arm and to her palm and cast holy. The shards of magic narrowly dodged his Radiance but the blinding was instantaneous and he snarled. His yellow eyes were bright in the reflection of the aether and something in him snapped.

He came at her, savage brutality. A flurry of blows she dodged and parried before his heel dug into her chest and shot all the air from her lungs as she landed on her back. She felt fear, true fear, coil at her back as she gasped for air. He took his blade and poise to strike at her weak on the ground and she pulled her bladed staff to aim at him as he leaned forward. The blade sunk, just barely, into his shoulder. And it caused him to freeze. A funny sight really, all the unnamed and hot emotion in his face pulling to tranquility, his body stilling mid a strike poised to kill. She could still see his chest pulling for air, lips parted slightly in a pant. Then he smiled at her and she felt the cold of the adrenaline running down her spine.

“Well done,” he said calmly and pulled his long frame back from her. His bare hand went to feel the blood as it dripped to stain the white linen of his collar.

“Please,” she said suddenly, “Allow me to heal you. I have-”

“Oh no need for that,” he said calmly, “It is barely a mark. And I’m sure it looks rather dashing hm?”

She watched him disbelieving as he moved to set the gunblade back at the shed, then he picked up her staff still laying beside her until everything was in proper order. Then he offered her his hand, stating in a rather droll tone, “Do you find this has improved your confidence?”

Her expression twisted into one of offense and the corner of his mouth twitched up just barely at seeing it, “I was under the impression this was a test of my worth not an exercise in boosting my ego.”

“I already think you are quite worth it, darling, ‘twas you who saw it otherwise,” those eyes that read for the truth were seeming more like a possibility. When he looked at her sharp and down to her soul was he truly reading her mind? “But enough rolling about in the dirt like animals, I’m sure you could do with a bath.”

She knew not of that was meant as an insult, as was typical of the words that left his mouth in reference to her, so she only stood with his help in trepidation. 

“I should retire then, if you’ve no more need of me,” she replied and resisted the urge to sniff herself.

That jester’s smile on his face widened and she had a feeling she was not going to be granted peace from his suffocating presence just yet.

“I am staying at the captain’s quarters,” he said as if that answered any questions. “Running water and all that, you are welcome to it if you feel the need. I doubt your quarters will afford you the same amenities.”

They both knew there was only one correct answer to such generosity, especially after seeing the way he pressed her when he offered her dinner their first evening together. The way he made ‘no’ unavailable to her.

“That is very kind, your grace, and I cannot say I would not do with a bath.”

“Excellent,” he said, sounding unsurprised at her answer and gathered up his coat and various layers in his arms before walking behind her. His other hand at her back pushed her eagerly in the right direction.

The spark, the ferocity, from moments earlier was all but gone. Swallowed up in the calm and languid steps she was used to. She hesitated to ask where it went. To ask why it was there in the first place. But her thoughts were best served elsewhere, as she had now inevitably trapped herself in the Emperor’s quarters for the night.

Chapter Text

It was true that high ranking officers were afforded nicer quarters on the grounds than the barracks of the common soldier but Willow suspected the quarters were made even double that for the coming of the Emperor. The room was entirely spotless, bed fit with a plush down and several more pillows than a man sleeping alone would need, and a fireplace at the foot for the cold of the night.

She felt like a stranger here, standing at the doorway with uncertainty as Solus made himself at home.

“Well come in, won’t you?” he offered while sitting at the edge of the bed and crossing one long leg over the other, “No need for shyness.”

She forced her legs to carry her further into the room. Solus looked at the respectful distance between them and smiled, then he waved his hand to the side, “The baths are over there if you have need of them. And trust me, you do have need of them.”

She turned her head to him, quick retort on her tongue, “And you mean to say after rolling in the dirt with me you are not the same?”

“How bold,” he said with feral teeth, “And is that an invitation?”

No.

“Ah, I only thought, I apologize,” she stammered in a way unbefitting of her station.

She felt too comfortable with him. Said things she would say to Thancred or Alisaie. But he was neither her friend nor her ally. He was the Emperor and perhaps the strongest foe she had ever met on the field, if this battle was any indication of the strength he held back.

Solus seemed to find it charming and bellowed a laugh, “Fret not, you are safe from my intrusion. If that is your wish.”

She bowed her head and said with a slight lightness, so as to not further embarrass herself, “How gracious of you, your Radiance.”

He only fixed her with another tight lipped smile before she made her way to the baths. Not so grand on their own but when compared to her own lodgings they seemed positively ostentatious. A large bath with all the plumbing trimmed in gold. She was, a part of her, thankful for Garlean society's technological advancement. Air travel opposed to chocobo and contraptions powered by ceruleum that could heat an entire room. Even the water itself seemed to be heated as she turned the faucet and flattened her hand under it.

Across the countertop were a myriad of supplies for personal grooming, and she had to imagine the Emperor had been the one to pack his own. He was ever a well kempt man and she imagined such good looks did not come easily, or she could imagine he would say so. She helped herself to it, pouring some into the bath, before working her clothes off.

The wool shirt underneath her armor was almost stuck to her after a day in the heat and replaced with the heat of the water it was hardly refreshing. She did begin to feel better when she scrubbed the dirt from her hair, however. It had been a while since she’d had a true bath that was not the communal washroom of the guards. It felt nice to relax. For as much as she could relax around Solus, anyhow.

Willow sunk below her shoulders in the bathwater, enjoying the flowery smell it left on her skin. She rubbed the spot under her ribs that Solus had earlier dug his entire heel into and felt it was indeed bruised. Thankfully nothing was broken. It would leave her sore for a bit of time but nothing worth expending healing magic over.

It also lead to her considering the memory of it, the look he’d had in those bright eyes. Hatred, contempt. Anguish. Even if he did know her secret, knew she was here as a foreign intruder, the pureness of the feeling did not make sense. It was so visceral, so unbound. Not the look of someone who could simply hang you and be done with it should he suspect your betrayal. It was a look she had never seen in the eyes of a man before.

It frightened her.

Eventually the water began to cool to a tepid warmth and it told her she best get out before she risked an intrusion. Though she’d like to return to her room and dress in a set of clean clothes something told her returning to his highness in a towel was rather unwise. So reluctantly she pulled on her clothes from earlier, ran the towel through her short locks and set it aside.

When she opened the door to the room he was casually sitting on the bed. One leg drawn in under him, shed of his boots and with his linen shirt pulled from his trousers. It gave him a strangely disheveled and relatable appearance. Simply a man, shoulders hunched forward, eyes drawn in concentration reading a book in his lap. But he came alive when he noticed her. Straightened out, sharpened, became predatorial again.

It brought a cold shiver to her spine, a warm ache to her chest. She wanted to run.

“I thank you for your hospitality, your Radiance, and I wish you a good night,” she bowed her head and pulled herself to the door. As if she expected to truly escape.

From behind her the Emperor tsked, “Leaving so soon? At least stay and enjoy my good company, as payment for said gracious hospitality.”

“I would not interrupt your night further,” she said without turning to meet his eyes.

“Come here.”

There was no denying the command. She thought about it, briefly. About running out the door and making a scene, about how he would not lower himself to chase after her and shout. But there would no doubt still be consequences, they would simply be delayed and quiet. The Emperor was not a man used to being denied and the timbre of his voice told her so.

She did not carry herself meekly when she turned to approach him. She stood straight and looked him in the eyes, he showed her his teeth in a pleased smile. That she came unafraid seemed to make it all the more pleasurable to him. He reached out his hands when she was close enough and grabbed both her arms gently. She did not help him, rather went where she was bid without offering herself in return. 

The Emperor led her to his lap and every part of her tensed. She could feel his warmth, his body beneath the clothes. Smell the rich colognes of a man of his stature. See the angry mark on his collarbone from their earlier encounter. But she did not look him in the eyes any longer, rather she stared at the wall as his hands held her fast to him.

“There now, that’s better,” he murmured and this close his voice was too much, it brushed against her ear and made her hold still like prey.

She sat there between too many breaths, unwilling to speak as his hands held her. Though she turned her head away she could still feel his gaze. Prodding at her, reaching inside and pulling everything out. His hand gently brushed up her back. Thumb against her neck and that too was gentle.

“Tell me, girl, how does it make you feel when I touch you like this?” he asked.

Deepest desire, locked in my chest. So fathomless as if nothing could ever sate such a feeling. And I do not know why and it terrifies me.

“I suppose it is nice,” she said to the wall beside her.

A single hushed laugh. Not pleasant. Disbelieving. The hand reached to her jaw and pulled her eyes to him. It was still gentle but just barely. It was a warning.

“At least have the good grace to look me in the eyes as you lie,” he said it tiredly and his smile was tired as well. But not tired enough to be harmless. Her next words must be chosen carefully.

It was difficult to speak when she matched his eyes and she wondered if there were not some power to that gaze. Perhaps his intimidating stature was enough to make anyone spill their secrets to him.

“I do not know why,” she said.

He hummed, “Why?”

“Why you have chosen me for your attention,” she breathed, “What about me is worthy to you? I am a foreigner, no true Garlean.”

Those lidded eyes watched her softly, “Oh,” he said as if he was looking at a small child, as if he felt sorry for her, “But how could you not know?”

She had no words in response and his hand felt up her throat, pressing just slightly and she held her breath in her chest. Then the hand tipped under her chin, “You’ve something I’ve not seen in a very long time. A pureness of spirit, of soul. Even the Empress cannot boast of such things.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion as he watched her and trailed his hand up her cheek. Her eyes darted to it and then back to him. Though his words sounded mad, as if anyone could know of a pureness of ones soul simply by sight alone, something told her he was being honest. That he could not lie to her even if he wished it. 

“So it is my soul you find so appealing,” she said and he caught the meaning behind her words.

He clicked his tongue, “Do not discount this piece of yourself. One’s soul is the most important part about them, without it one is nothing but aether flitting about the star,” his hand forced her to turn to him again, “Your soul is your truth.”

His thumb went to her lip, parting them just slightly then pressing into her sharpened teeth. That seemed to please him strangely and he smiled, “Indulge me this curiosity won’t you?”

A request to which she was hardly in a position to deny. Her body was fit in his and his hand still around one arm like the jaws of a bear trap. His thumb on her sharp teeth as she drew in a breath and his mouth crashed onto hers. 

It was feeling . It was nothing but feeling as he pushed against her. Crashing like a wave and rough and heavy. Before she could refuse he had pushed her to her back, used those hands gripping tight against her small arms to force her where he wanted her and then he climbed on top. His mouth never left hers and something in her chest burned hot with all of his body and pressure against her. And it was almost as if he was trying to devour her whole, his teeth as some wolf biting flesh and drawing blood. She couldn’t breath and she did not think he was breathing either, locked in a burning torment of animalistic lust. 

She squirmed under his grip when it became too much. When she wanted, needed , to catch her breath. But he did not let her go. He took her for as long as he wanted, his hands leaving bruises on her wrists before something seemed to snap him to attention. As his teeth left hers she tried not to gasp for air, tried not to let the subtle shudder of her skin show. Though were the shivering from fear or desire she could not say. 

He stared down at her with his short white flecked hair shrouding his face, those eyes glowed in the shadow he cast. A faint smile crossed his lips.

“Certainly satisfying,” he said, “But, hm, something is amiss.”

He spoke as if she was not still there, trapped under his weight. As if she were a thing and he her owner. As if the disparity between them were so great as to make her inhuman.

He dragged his hands off of her arms and learned back, still straddling her with blood on his lips and stained across his collar from their match, “Where is that spark I glimpsed in your eyes when first we met? Does it grow dull in my presence? You are denying yourself the pleasure of it I think.”

His words were a riddle to her, as was much he said. The spark of honesty? Of hatred? She was always wound tight in his presence, never knowing what to do or say. How to untangle the feelings of desire and fear that tied up her heart. Did he wish it were otherwise?

There was silence only the sound of his sighing when she did not answer.

“Are you mute girl?”

She could not keep her brow from dropping in contempt just slightly, “I fear I do not know what his Radiance wants of me.”

“I want ,” he said while reaching his hand back down to grasp her jaw, “I want the truth of you. That is what I want.”

“I fear this is all I have to offer.”

And then he rolled his eyes, as if it were trivial, and scoffed as if it disgusted him.

“Well,” he pulled his weight off of her and she finally felt some measure of relief, muscles aching from the tension she carried, “If you are not going to give me what I want you best be off. Do not forget to retrieve your armor within the yards. It would be a shame for someone to start asking questions, hm?”

She pulled herself from his bed feeling something almost like disappointment and only nodded in his direction, “Of course,” before leaving the predatorial oppression of the room.

The air outside had cooled with the setting sun and she found the practice yard still thankfully empty. Her armor was more easily carried on her person than bundled in her arms and by the time she had snapped the final piece back into place she heard the crunching of footsteps in the distance behind her.

“Lord Gaius,” she said in surprise when he was close enough that she could see his helmetless face.

He stopped a moment and fixed a look at her in the dark, and she sometimes forgot Garleans did not have the benefit of keen night vision as her kind did, “Ah, sas Yen. I do not believe we have met.”

“Not formally no, but we have certainly been in each other’s presence enough to warrant it.”

“Indeed,” he said stiffly as he approached her. Then he offered her his hand and she took it. A strong short grip before he let go, “If you are making your rounds allow me to save you the trouble, this place is more than safe enough for his highness.”

“Oh,” she said quickly, “I was only getting in some light sparring before turning in for the day. I was certain a military base was quite protected already.”

He hummed, in thought or suspicion she could not tell. This close he looked weary, in a way that aged him like the Emperor. She wondered if this were just the consequence of being a man of Garlemald. A difficult life fraught with freezing cold and heavy drinking, not to mention the constant warfare. 

“Do you know many were surprised when his Radiance named you as his personal guard?” he asked.

She smiled gently, trying her best to look casual given that they were as good as equal rank, “I am well aware, and I have tried my best to ease their fears.”

“Indeed,” he said again, “The Emperor boasted of your feats the night of Atticus’ coup. You should be flattered, such praise does not come often.”

Her ears flickered straightforward, unable to hide the surprise in her face, “Did he? Well, I am only thankful I could be of use to him. It is of the highest honor to serve his grace personally.”

“It is,” said Gaius shortly and then there was a brief silence between them. He seemed to be studying her.

“Lord Gaius,” she began, “I am not accusing you of including yourself in these suspicions, but if you were to, you should know I wish only to serve. Foreigner I may be but your countrymen have allowed me and my family a second chance. You could have easily killed me but you did not, and I will take serving his Imperial highness over any hangman’s noose or slaver’s camp. That is to say, no harm will come to the Emperor as long as I am around.”

He raised a brow curiously and for the most part he did seem believing. Then he nodded shortly, “That is good to hear,” and turned to leave towards the barracks.

Willow watched him go, knowing the trust of the Emperor’s inner circle was just as paramount as the trust of the Emperor himself. Gaius always seemed the most pragmatic of the lot and if she could ease his fears she was well on her way to calling herself one of them. The Emperor, of course, was another beast entirely. But if his mouth on hers was any indication, he had little reason to want her dead. 

Chapter Text

He did not make an effort to find her again. Not the remainder of their stay and not the long ride back to Garlemald. It was a bit of a relief to not worry he would be prowling about the corners watching, driving answers from her, grasping at her strangely. 

She thought about that day often. The meaning of it, the consequences. But mostly she thought about the feeling. She was not ashamed to admit she had little experience in the ways of men. Some few of the boys within her clan whenever they chanced to visit. Whenever she would go out hunting with them and talking lead to kissing lead to something else. But none of them had been like this. 

The more she distanced herself from the moment, the more the fear of it wore off of her, the more she realized the enjoyment she had derived from it. His mouth and hands had made her feel something she wanted more of. And the first time she saw his face again, in a meeting with his cabinet while she stood at the back of the door, she could not stop staring. 

He didn’t look happy, but he never looked happy unless he was causing someone else distress. His brow heavy, his angular eyes watching each member as they chanced to speak. Then he caught her staring. It was quick, a dart in her direction and she looked away. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look away either. Just stared at her until his attention was demanded once again.

The conversation grew dull, talk of the city’s infrastructure and a new Ceruleum drill being constructed in the jungles of Corvos.

“I should like to visit there myself, see that those bumbling fools are heeding my advice. They seem determined to blind themselves to our technological progress. Ever about the old ways. I should be surprised if I do not see them hammering away with sticks and rocks,” the Emperor bit out, smiling at the way he chided them.

An older member of the house several seats down from them spoke up, and it seemed as though the words had been on his mind for some time, “Is that wise, your Radiance?”

Solus frowned, turning his discerning gaze in the direction of the man.

“While we all appreciate your willingness to intervene directly in Imperial matters. And it certainly is a boost for morale when you visit our soldiers personally. We only worry what should happen if the worst should befall you, given your lack of an heir.”

“We?” he replied in curiosity, “If there are aught that agree with you they can very well speak for themselves.”

The way some few members avoided his gaze directly spoke well enough for them and Solus sighed, put upon by the opinion of the masses.

“I hardly think a newborn babe a guarantee of the Empire’s safety, and I hardly think a meager trip to the jungles will render me dead. But alas, it matters not what I think does it?”

Futally another at the table spoke in agreement, “It is only that you and the Empress are so beloved, a child would only serve to solidify your rule and embolden the masses.”

“Why,” the Emperor drawled in response, “It sounds as if you desire to bed the woman yourself? As much as the subject moves you.”

The man’s eyes widened, “I meant no disrespect, your Radiance, I only wish to offer a proper assessment on the morality of the people. As is my duty.”

“That doesn’t sound an assessment at all, rather a suggestion,” Solus continued, a calm tone that belied the danger in his gaze.

“You are right, your Radiance, I speak out of turn,” and the man hung his head apologetically.

Though quieted it was clear from the tension in the room the subject was a sore one. Solus had ruled for a good many years now with the Empress by his side, and there had been little talk of an heir. It remained the Emperor’s personal business but likely invited suspicion of his less eager followers that he was able to produce an heir at all. That there was some deep embarrassing secret that prevented him from reproducing in a way befitting his line.

Solus himself didn’t seem to care what they thought of him, only that they would stop bothering him about it. He leaned forward with his chin pillowed in his hand and gave an expression as if the entire table exhausted him.

“Will that be all?” he asked. 

The man to Solus’ left, whom Willow had come to know as the head of his war council, took several glances at the notes beneath him. Laid out in neat order upon a tablet device.

“I believe Lord Gaius wished to close, sir.”

“Very well,” he waved his other hand tiredly, “Go ahead,” his eyes matched with the Legatus, “At least I can expect you to be forward with matters of true import.”

Gaius took the compliment without response but it was clear the Emperor’s fondness meant much to him. Especially given his words to Willow nearly a fortnight ago. 

“The subject I wish to speak on is grave indeed, and I would weigh the opinion of this council in addition to the duty we have to the primitive peoples of our world,” he began. His voice carried a heaviness to it and from the head of the table Solus sat straight. His interest peaked.

“As his highness is no doubt aware, there’ve been a recent number of primals summoned from the far off province of Eorzea.”

Willow’s interest was now peaked as well.

“There are no small number of beastmen within the country, but as well as that their government has made almost no move to quell such summonings. Whether they refuse to or are incapable of it I know not.”

“Both I wager,” spouted another member of the council from beside him.

Gaius continued, “I would ask that this council at least consider a move to annex Eorzea under our control.”

The Emperor sighed and the tension in Gaius’ face drew taut.

“Gaius, Gaius, Gaius,” he spoke in quick succession, “Always with your grand plans, but you know the resources, the time, the lives such a move would cost us?”

“I am well aware,” he responded calmly, “But lest I also remind you of an earlier time you placed such trust and resources under my care and now we are nearly in control of all of Doma.”

Solus hummed, “True enough. Though I am under the impression Eorzea’s might, brought to bear, may be a fair bit more menacing.”

A fair bit more menacing indeed. For he did not know Eorzea had begun their own plan in prevention of such a thing. A plan that was going quite smoothly by Willow’s estimation. A part of her was inappropriately giddy about the entire situation. They’d no idea how underhanded they were in a fight they had yet to be party to.

“So we will not be caught unawares,” said Gaius.

Again she could laugh.

“We will come fully prepared, we will know their resources, their military might, and then we will act in full,” he paused staring down the unconvinced gaze of the Emperor, “Lest we leave ourselves open to the dangers of primals we must make some move in retaliation.”

Solus wrapped a finger about his jaw in a thoughtful position, “I will consider it. Return to me with the specifics of such a plan and numbers. I need numbers Gaius.”

Lord Gaius bowed his head, “You will have all you require and more, your grace.”

“Splendid,” he replied in a clipped tone before waving a dismissive hand and summarily ending the meeting. 

It was pertinent that the Scions received this information as quickly as possible, though it seemed unwise to leave the palace grounds so soon. So Willow stored their words away for later, quietly following out the door when the last of the congregation had left.

That night Willow could not sleep. Her sheets scratched against her bare arms, mattress hard against her back. And while the bed had always been slightly uncomfortable this was an entirely new discomfort. She told herself it was nerves. To know that Garlemald considered an annexation of Eorzea was information she alone held, and it worried her to keep such things to herself, as important as it was to avoid suspicion.

Something told her to get up, to pace the room, to leave . Again, she attributed this to nerves. So too the tightness in her chest.

In only a thin linen shirt and her leather boots pulled over her breeches, she made her way through the halls. The palace was ghostly at night with only some few maids finishing cleaning the rooms spotless before the Imperial family awoke again. They did not make eye contact with her as she continued walking. 

She was drawn, in interest, to the room Solus had shown her once before. It was empty from even the maids and cautiously she slid back the adjoining wall. It clicked before making a whooshing sound as she pushed it back. Willow looked once behind her before disappearing and shutting it as if she’d never entered at all.

A darkness enveloped the room though her eyes adjusted quickly. The strange stillness set her on edge, filled with objects from another age, tomes of timeless knowledge. A crypt of preserved history, but who wished to be buried in it?

Suddenly something caught her eye. The warm glow of a light, barely discernible even with her keen dark vision. 

The light pulled her to his desk. Large and made of dark red wood, she rubbed her hand across it. The light beneath it faded and yet a single spot beneath her palm burned hot. Carefully she leaned down to observe the desk closer. A myriad of drawers down its side and a large one, presumably for storing documents, just at its front where one would sit.

Softly she pulled the entire drawer open. Nothing but a pouch remained inside, soft and velvet in her hands. But the heat was there too. She pulled apart the draw string to find a small crystal inside. Warm and glittering. And again the light returned, steady and pulsing, providing a strange light to the room’s darkness.

That feeling again, that unease. It made her want to scream, to weep. She did not understand it and in fear she shoved the thing back in its pouch. But before she could a great pain lanced between her ears. Familiar to the echo and yet no vision ever came. Instead the feeling ebbed and flowed like a tide until at last it was gone. 

The lights snapped on.

“Well, well,” a voice said that nearly made her jump out of her skin. She quickly shut the drawer in front of her as he continued, “I thought I smelled a rat in the walls but it appears it was only a meager mouse. My mistake.”

She looked up at him standing in the doorway, as if he had been there the entire time. Arms crossed, head turned in sinister curiosity, “Did I startle you little mouse?”

“I believe I was given an invitation,” she responded when she at last caught her tongue, “Unless his Radiance has rescinded such a generous offer?”

When he moved towards her it was with the grace of a wolf stalking its prey, “Not at all. In fact I was beginning to believe ‘twas you who spurned my invitation. Making yourself at home?”

“If that is agreeable to you,” she said and then brushed her hand on the large desk behind her, “I found myself unable to sleep and thought I might make use of the hours reading. You’ve quite a collection.”

He was quiet for a moment, still a good distance from her and yet she felt no safer for it. 

“Well, I suppose,” he said nonchalantly when the silence grew uncomfortable. And then smiled with a hand tossed to the side, “Since you are already here.”

Then he made his way to the shelves that adorned the walls, most stocked high to the ceilings. She truly wondered how anyone would reach that high given that there was no ladder in sight. His thin hand brushed against the spines of several before pulling out a book old and worn. He handed the thing to her and hesitantly she took it.

The Birth of White Magic and the City of Amdapor.

She could almost laugh, “Is this supposed to say something unfortunate about my healing prowess?”

“Not hardly,” he replied smoothly, “But one should always desire to further their craft, and to know the history of it.”

She hummed, pulling her finger down the spine and moving to the sitting area, “Should I be embarrassed to admit how little I know the history of my craft.”

“I surmised as much. Precious few do these days, but ‘tis never too late to start,” then he leaned his long form against the desk she had stood at earlier, “As it happens I have a fair bit of work to address myself. I hope you do not mind I keep you company?”

“I would be a fool to refuse you, though it is rather late for work is it not? Do the Emperor’s duties keep him so busy?

A light chuckle, “You are not the only one to have sleepless nights, and the Empress has a terrible snore. If I’m not the one to catch sleep first little chance I will be sleeping at all,” he said with a bit of dramatic fanfare.

She laughed before she could stop herself, the thought of it too funny to contain. He seemed to appreciate her good spirit and smiled at her before setting himself down at the desk, quickly busying himself with his work. With the book in her hands Willow pulled her legs up onto the lounge. Trying, in vain, to make herself comfortable in the Emperor’s study.

From his desk Solus flipped through a stack of papers, seeming heavily engrossed in whatever Imperial duties needed attending. And though her eyes stared at the words she could not bid herself to read them, peering just barely above the pages at his Radiance. His resting face still managed to convey an heir of disgust that he met his subordinates with. Eyes gently narrowed with focus as a pen tapped against pages.

The scratch of his writing and the slow tick of a clock somewhere along the walls was the only sound to comfort her. She’d thought she spied a orchestrion in the style of Eorzea somewhere around the room but Solus didn’t seem much like the type to enjoy music. Perhaps he just found it fascinatingly primitive.

Eventually she convinced herself to actually read the book in her hands and was surprised to find its pages worn and darkened with age. The forward implied that the book was written with first hand knowledge of the Ampadori people and the war that had brought their downfall, implying that the book itself was near eons old. How and why had the Emperor come about such a thing?

The age of it alone peaked her interest and the development of white magic as not only a healing tool but a tool of war garnered her fascination as well. Soon she was deep in the stories of the last of Ampador and the culture of the cult of white magic before she heard the sound of a heavy chair pulling across the floor and then the rapt sound of boots making their way across the room. She glanced up to see Solus procuring himself a glass of wine in the corner.

His back was to her and she was noticeably not offered to join him. He stood there a moment, took a drink, churned it in his hand before leaning back on his heel and turning to her. Willow’s eyes were quick to return to the book, appearing to be enthralled in the knowledge he offered her before those languid steps took him too close. He sat himself on the long table in front of her, wood creaking under his weight.

The wine glass was cupped in one hand lightly and he took another drink. His other hand laid flat against her thigh and the movement was so casual she forgot to be startled. He looked her in the eyes and asked, “Find anything of worth in there?”

She answered him with honesty, “I’d never considered the implications of white magic as a tool for war. The Ampador people made great strides in the art of healing but the subversion of it for the maiming of one another quite caught me off guard.”

Solus looked soured by the words, “Yes. Quite disturbing is it not? What man will do to kill man.”

Willow thought he hardly had room to speak given that he was the epitome of what man would do to kill man. But perhaps that also made him the only one to truly understand the weight behind his war, the tragedy of it.

He set his glass beside him and hummed before his hand reached out to her, two fingers slipping below her chin to force her eyes to him.

“Won’t you look at me girl?” he asked with a tone that balanced easily between gentleness and anger, “What frightens you so?”

She was beginning to distinguish the fear from something else. It tangled tight within the mix of feelings and made her heart race. She could not look boldly into his eyes without her pulse picking up, could not feel his hand applying an ever deeper pressure against her skin. His face with lines that drew from age and discontent, sharp and unnerving smile, eyes that drowned you. 

“I’d thought his Radiance had found me wanting, I thought I was unable to please him as he wished,” her gaze finally reached his, a stare rivaling his own with eyes of opposing color.

He smiled at her attention, “I am a forgiving man, I am willing to give you a second chance.”

An invitation? Or a command. 

Her body moved before her mind could stop it. 

Her heart acting in lieu of her sense. 

Hands on his shoulders and he gave her a gentle look of surprise.

“Oh you sweet thing, are you trying to reciprocate mine affections?” he said with a pleased expression.

Was this the truth he desired?

She had never touched him before. Even in Corvos he’d bound her hands up above her, she’d been felt but never the one to feel.

There was strength in this body, still muscle bound up under skin from a lifetime as a Legatus. Even though he did most of his ruling from a throne room, even if she heard the soldiers whisper behind his back about how he was no longer fit for warfare. He was weight and power. She felt him tense and it almost terrified her, the thought of how quickly all that power could move, what it could do to her, what it had done.

But the tension was short, easily washed from him. Instead he grabbed both of her smaller hands in his own and held them. Warm.

“Allow me to lead then. Your desperate grasping is certainly endearing, but I will show you the proper way a man like me is to be treated,” then his hand lead her own to the back of his neck, up into his hair, tangled in it. She could feel the roughness of his undercut underneath the thick strands of dark. She felt it when he let her go, twisted her fingers between the locks and he closed his eyes briefly before leading her other hand between his shoulders.

 “Now,” he said gently. “Take what you wish.”

The contact had forced them close. Close enough that she could smell the wine on his breath, feel his body as it moved. Close enough to kiss him but she was afraid to. To make the first move when he stared down at her with tongue behind teeth expecting something. So instead she set her head over his shoulder and pressed her arms closer in an embrace, the closeness and her hand upon his head forced him over her shoulder as well and she felt him tense. His arms still laid to his side unmoving and if she could see his expression she was sure she would describe it as uncomfortable.

It felt nice, this closeness, to drink in his scent and his warmth. To force a tenderness from him that normally was not there. She’d thought he wouldn’t return it until his own arms slowly wrapped around her small form and squeezed until she was tight in his chest. That tenseness was still there, she could feel it under his shoulders and she thought such soft affection must be unfamiliar to him. He did not seem a particularly soft man.

They stayed like that for a while until Solus finally broke the connection, she released him when he moved and regarded the brief confusion that adorned his face before the expression folded into smugly dissatisfied.

“What charming innocence, I must say I am surprised,” he drawled.

A part of her felt offended, ashamed that he found her intimacy to me childlike. “To desire closeness is to be innocent?” she asked.

“When given the opportunity to do otherwise? Certainly. But I did not mean it as an insult so you needn’t take it as one,” he replied, a bit dismissive.

Her hands felt cold and empty now sitting on her lap and she did not feel at all satisfied by the previous contact. Perhaps he was right. To be held down, to be kissed , would that ease this crack in her heart? Slowly she reached her hand out to his leg, to reciprocate what he had done early. Emboldened by just the idea of it. But he was quick and painful in his reaction, snatching her wrist and wrenching it. 

A sound escaped her but more from surprise than anything, the pain was almost a normalcy she had come to expect from him.

“That is enough of that,” he said like a scolding school teacher and then smiled politely, “Flattered though I am at your insistence.”

Then he released her, grabbing his glass and turning away.

Willow gripped her wrist lightly and watched his back as he drained his glass. That same boldness still burned in her.

“Emperor Solus,” she said and he turned to her with his brow raised, “What is it you desire from me?”

He pursed his lips in a frown, either in disappointment or thoughtfulness. His yellow eyes darted to his desk, staring for a while before he regarded her with a lazy expression, “I would rather you answer that question.”

She was quiet and his gaze did not break. Staring hard at her as if to force an answer before she replied, “I’m afraid I am not sure”

His expression remained unchanged. A kind of vacancy in his eyes and mouth before he smiled. All the animation in the expression almost terrifying for how empty it was before, “You are doing well,” he said, “Trust your heart and all will become clear in time.”

But what did his radiance mean by such a confusing statement? When she had trusted her heart he had spurned her affections and yet expressed interest in a continuation of their strange relationship. He wanted her, he did not want her, he wanted someone else. She was terribly lost as to his desire and he refused to so much as answer the question outright. 

When he returned to his desk she found herself unable to muster the focus required for reading. Instead sitting with her legs crossed feeling too hot in the room as Solus’ continued to tap away at his desk.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, setting the book on the table, “I believe I may try and get some rest.”

“Fine,” he said shortly, “You are excused,” and then one short wry smile peering over his nose before returning to his work.

She did not like how it made her heart race.

Chapter Text

Familiar sounds.

The tap tap of a pen against a wooden desk, a skrrrtch as a long line was drawn through words. The fluttering of paper being sorted. 

A man hunches over a desk, face shaded by his hood. Covered by a fearsome scarlet mask. He does not look at her.

“You have returned,” the words are short and clipped.

“I told you I would.”

The man looks up then, his eyes are piercing, illuminated in the shade of his mask, “After I explicitly told you not to leave. We need you here.”

“They need me out there.”

Suddenly she gains lucidity. Finds herself in a strange body, looks at the man who lays before her.

“Who are you?” she asks.

The man looks embittered by the question. Stands from his desk to approach her and she is small in his shadow. He grabs her wrist and holds it, the harshness of it is familiar but the love in his eyes is not. The worry, the concern, the truth.

Suddenly the room is filling up with water. She hears it rushing on all sides and she glances to the walls. It splashes and roars like the falls she’d play in as a child. A memory on a memory on a memory. She looks back to the man and wants him to keep her afloat. Hopes his grip is enough to save her from drowning. But as the waters reach her throat he lets go and she cannot breathe.

Willow awoke gasping for air, reaching out before someone grabbed her arm. And it was just like her dream. She was in a haze before her eyes found a woman, concern colored her soft face.

“Are you alright miss?” and Willow recognized her as one of the many serving girls that roamed the halls of the palace.

It seemed this particular one had invited herself into her room and Willow was somewhat concerned for a lack of privacy.

“Sorry,” she huffed as she caught her breath, “Is there something I can help you with.”

“His Radiance had requested your presence for his rounds this morning? He bid I come find you when you did not arrive. Said you would still be sleeping.”

With alarm she pulled her tablet from beside her to see the schedule did indeed request her attendance half a bell ago, how long had she slept?

She then looked to the girl who seemed as concerned as she before making her way out of bed, “Tell him I will be there shortly, and that I apologize.”

“Very good miss,” the girl said bowing, looking as if she wanted to leave the room as much as Willow wished to be alone. Perhaps all her thrashing about had frightened her. “I believe he is still in the dining room, when he instructed me he was having breakfast with the Empress.” And then she left, shutting the door behind her.

The Empress. Another matter Willow had not considered in a list of terrible matters she shoved down below. She had to know, surely. The Emperor was an enigmatic man and shameless in all he did, and the two of them clearly had no love for each other. But the guilt festered anyhow, deserved no matter how much she may like to rationalize it. No matter if the Emperor was the one to push her, no matter if she had tried to run at first. She did not know if she could look the woman in the eyes.

She entered the dining hall to find only Solus remained and tempered the sigh of relief held in her lungs. He stood with his back to her, observing through the wide window with one hand casually in the pocket of his trousers, the other around a mug he appeared to still be drinking from breakfast earlier. His position could be easily conveyed as relaxed, or perhaps tired.

Outside the sun peered through the clouds and a day without a howling blizzard was ever a rarity in Garlemald. Willow had learned to cherish such weather.

“I trust you slept well?” he asked without turning.

“I did, thank you,” she replied, speaking no words of the night before where prying ears might hear.

He seemed to find it funny, a single tight lipped laugh before he downed the rest of what was in the mug. 

“Have you eaten?”

She frowned, not wanting to be reminded she’d had no time for food while the Emperor had partaken in any breakfast food he had desired. She could really go for some pastries right now.

“I am afraid I did not have the time, ‘tis what I get for sleeping in.”

Solus frowned in mock sympathy, “Perhaps it is better that way. What we chance to observe may be easier for you on an empty stomach.”

She raised a brow, “Just for me, my lord? You have made an assumption on the strength of my constitution.”

He smirked, enjoying the challenge, “An observation more like, but I do so enjoy being wrong,” he set the mug on the table and crossed his arms to stare at her shortly, “Well we best be going then,” then he began making his way to the halls.

It took Willow a beat too long to realize she was meant to follow him. By his side and at his heels like a proper guard dog. She wondered if he did not derive some sick pleasure from it. 

He was silent at first when she was at his back. Finely dressed as always, a long coat that buckled in the front, his elegant leather boots up to his shin, a collared half shawl over his shoulders trimmed with fur up the back of his neck leading into a freshly shaved undercut. He looked properly put together for someone who was about to witness the worst of what mankind was capable of.

There was silence between them as they stalked the halls in tandem. Each passing guard and servant bowing their head in supplication when they passed. He paid them no mind, and Willow wondered if he truly even saw them. Or was it a man to ants, crushing them under his heel with no second thought.

“We’ve a long days work ahead of us,” he said finally, “It’s a bit of a ghastly procedure and I do tend to put it off. But alas my scientists have been chirping away in my ear about their recent exploits and I fear I can put it off no longer.”

“You find such things disturbing?” she asked, always surprised when some modicum of empathy leaked through his person.

“Hm. Disturbing but necessary. This world is cruel my girl, if you are not willing to make difficult decisions you will get eaten alive,” he finished the sentence by staring down at her. As if to solidify the thought in her mind. Then he turned forward again.

She followed quietly behind him, armor clinking in the silence as they turned through various halls, down several flights of stairs and passed yet more serving girls. Finally, at the end of a main hall in the sub-level of the palace, he stopped upon a wide gated door. A guard stood dutifully to the side of it, nodding at the Emperor once before turning to unlock the gate.

A light above the door flashed red, and the slow creak of both sides opening indicated a terrible heaviness to it. It was very apparent they were trying to bar entry to anyone without authority. Or perhaps, more worryingly, trying to bar exit from the many creations inside.

The Emperor entered wordlessly and Willow behind him. The gates shut and she found herself in a lift of some kind. Fluorescent lighting bright against the black interior of the cramped room. Solus leaned himself back against a corner with his arms crossed, looking unbothered by the entire ordeal. Willow herself had never ridden in such a thing. And as it began its descent she noted that the walls surrounding them were not walls at all but windows that opened up into a view of the laboratories deep below.

All manner of technology for which she had no name for, as if she had stepped through a portal into another world. Solus caught her staring through the window in wonder and raised a brow.

She turned to him and said in earnest, “My people may say what they will about the war machina of Garlemald. But your technology is truly something of wonder. I am amazed.”

“Ah a genuine compliment. How rare indeed, I shall treasure it most ardently,” he smiled and put a hand over his chest in dramatics. “‘Twas not easy, even less so for such technology to find acceptance among the common rabble. With change brings fear, you see. Even if such change is for the better.”

“That is something I think both our people share. Fear for the new and foreign,” Willow continued.

He looked at her with the heir of someone old and wizened, “Though they should like to bicker about it every man on this star is much the same. They all share the same fears, the same loves. But it is always about who can bark the loudest and bite the hardest, if you will.”

“And Garlemald aims to win this dogfight,” she stated plainly.

He smirked, “Now you understand.”

Willow glanced down at the ground as they continued to descend. Time and again the Emperor seemed to express distaste for this supposed necessary evil, and so she said, “It is a shame there is not a peaceful solution. If you could convince your people to accept technology for the betterment of their kind I feel you could convince them of anything.”

“Do you?” he barked with that same manic fervor, much more menacing when trapped in close space with him, “I find your naivety quite charming. Pray that I continue to do so,” he smiled then and she took it for what it was. A warning to be quiet.

The lift lurched to a halt, to Willow’s relief, and as the door opened they were greeted by a contingent of guards and various scientists. They all seemed to be milling about in preparation for the Emperor’s arrival. Willow noted Gaius van Baelsar among them, a look of stoicism on his face as per usual. 

Solus clapped his hands together, “Well, let us be about it then. I have heard a great many things of your recent exploits and I trust I will not be disappointed.”

A grizzly older man, the head scientist by Willow’s estimation, took point, “I have full confidence that you will not be, your Radiance,” and then he pulled himself from the crowd, “If we may begin with the biological sciences.”

Solus left her side to insert himself in the crowd, putting a hand out and squeezing Gaius’ shoulder in a friendly gesture, “I can hazard a guess as to why you have joined us van Baelsar. Eager to see what new killing machines you may unleash upon Eorzean soil?”

“If they offer efficiency then certainly. A long and bloody war falls into no one's favor,” the Legatus replied.

“Oh I quite agree. Your shrewdness does you credit, and you should know I am highly considering your proposition,” Solus smiled wolfishly.

Willow’s face stayed placid despite her racing heart. The prospect of war seemed too enticing for Solus to ignore and every machina Willow observed must be noted carefully. With luck Cid and his team could come up with a rebuttal, given ample time in advance.

For the remainder of the demonstration she stayed far at their heels. It seemed the majority of the biological expansion seemed to fall under medical advancement. That was with the exception of a chemical agent the science team had dubbed Black Rose. They talked about it with such pride that Willow got the distinct feeling it was a greater achievement to them than any advance in medicine.

A gas that could wipe out an entire city without their soldiers ever having to draw their blades. The most dangerous weapon Willow had ever laid eyes upon. Solus’ face was unchanging throughout the explanation while Gaius showed an array of various expressions. Anger and distaste among them. Solus’ gaze flickered to him.

“Such a sour look Gaius, are you not pleased with their progress?” he asked.

“A gas cannot determine civilian from soldier. Women and children wiped out indiscriminately. ‘Tis madness,” he muttered. Clearly unconcerned with Solus’ feelings on the matter.

The barest hint of a smirk on the Emperor’s lips, “And here I thought efficiency was best? Those were your words yes? What is more efficient than total annihilation,” he said it easily, almost lackadaisical. As if the gravity of the situation was beyond him.

“It is no conquering if there is nothing left to rule,” Gaius growled.

Solus pouted though Gaius seemed to care not for his dramatics, “Then what are you suggesting, we simply destroy a perfectly good tool at our disposal? Time and numerous funds wasted simply because you don’t have the stomach for sacrifice?”

And it was fascinating to watch some other poor soul subject to Solus’ intense scrutiny. His questioning as if he was looking for a correct answer, prying you apart.

Gaius took it well, which told Willow he had experienced this many a time before. Calm and collected under the watchful eyes of the Emperor.

“I am suggesting we consider all the tools at our disposal before resorting to the deaths of innocents. Black Rose, if needs be, a last resort. Though if I am honest I would prefer it be destroyed all together.”

The scientists behind him were beginning to look nervous, especially since the Emperor had not dismissed him outright.

Solus put his hands on his hips casually, seeming to chew over the answer the Legatus gave him, “I will take it under advisement. Cease project Black Rose for the foreseeable future.”

“Your Ra-” the man began but choked on his words upon the Emperor’s gaze turning to him, “Of course.”

And then the group continued. 

Now came the weapons of warfare. Massive Magitek that could clear a battlefield in mere minutes. The head of the scientists spoke with exceeding pride of each weapon they had concocted and equally of the tests they had run. Solus had been right, it was not for the faint of heart. Tension pulled at Willow’s mouth in a frown but she tried to stifle it. Tried to show the same amount of eerie indifference as Solus himself.

“And now, we have saved the best for last,” spoke the man in front of them.

Solus regarded her with a raised brow, mouth turned up just slightly, as if his hatred of the man’s grandstanding was a joke shared between them.

In front of them stood a pair of wide metal doors, the height of them reached far into the ceiling and when the scientist bid them open they squealed with great effort. Willow narrowed her eyes in scrutiny at the great monstrosity that lay behind them.

“The Ultima weapon,” he said proudly.

“Ah, Ultima. She has been far more costly in both life and coin than I initially assumed,” the Emperor said flatly.

“Indeed,” the man replied somewhat nervously, “But I hope, today, to prove all that cost worthy of its creation,” then he laid a hand in front of him, “This way, if you would.”

Solus regarded her with another look, sharing a joke with her she was not a part of. But Willow found something far more potent was vying for her attention. The echo.

This was a possibility she had considered. What if the echo gave way to her cover, could she insist she was feeling faint? Feeling ill? But would that make her unable to do her job in the eyes of Garlean society? Likely she was about to find out, as Hydaelyn’s blessing was not to be denied.

“Technology that far exceeds our own,” a voice rising in dramatic candor, “That lay untouched for eons,” hands raising, “I would see you put it to good use. As once the Allagans lay siege to their enemies so too can Garlemald will it to conquer.”

The Emperor. Grandstanding. And not moments earlier had he lamented the same in someone else.

“Your grace, if I may be so bold,” a man with a rat like face, carrying himself in a similar manner.

Solus, with the look of a predator who ate rats, turned to him with a sharp smile, “Please.”

“How did you learn of such a weapon?” the man asked. “Should we not be wary? Surely our own technology is more than enough to see us to victory.”

Solus’ face drew into a frown. He descended the steps from where the weapon sat in the old and shuttered lab before he grew very close to the man.

“You fear what you do not understand. History is the most important teacher and if you close your eyes to it you will surely die,” then his frowned turn into a somewhat manic smile, “I will see all my people live and prosper, no matter what shape that prosperity takes,” then he turned to survey the weapon again with his hands on his hips, “The Ultima weapon will be ours and I trust you will put it to working order.”

Willow made note that she no longer saw that man working among the scientists as the vision faded harshly into something else.

A young mi’qote women, not dissimilar to herself. Likely from Corvos as her slanted pupils would suggest. But there was fear in those eyes as well, hesitation.

“You must make this sacrifice for the good of your people,” urged a Garlean beside her.

She too was a woman, with a sharp brow and the frown lines of age formed around her mouth.

“You promise you won’t harm them?” asked the mi’qote.

The other woman nodded, “With your achievement here we will have no further need of them. You have our word.”

The mi’qote’s eyes narrowed suspiciously but then she nodded in return. With resolution in her gait she made her way up a set of stairs and into the looming Ultima Weapon. Upon her entrance it jerked to life, lighting up and creaking under its own weight. There were several heartbeats as the Garlean scientist below the machine began taking notes, staring at a screen showing strange graphs and numbers. And then a horrible keening scream before the Weapon went dark.

She awoke with her heart thundering in her chest, mouth dry, breath frantic. Her surroundings had changed and she was leaned against a wall in what appeared to be a small meeting room. In front of her stood Gaius van Baelsar. He kneeled to match her gaze, armor subtly clinking.

“You made quite a scene,” he said, and though it was an accusation he said the words with intense calmness. “I thought it would be prudent to separate you, and bar you from further interrupting him. He agreed.”

“I apologize,” she said, doing her best to gather her thoughts. To be thrown from the horrors of Garlemald’s scientific atrocities straight into the mouth of the Emperor’s sharpest hound. “I have not been feeling quite myself today.”

His dull yellow eyes fixed on her, there was a tension in his face always and it made him difficult to read. He made no comment on her lackluster excuse, only continued speaking.

“He thought the proceedings may have been too much for you,” he stated again, “Was he correct?”

Her mismatched eyes narrowed, insulted at the Emperor’s continuous insistence upon her weak constitution, “He was not,” no further explanation because the way Gaius watched her said he already knew the truth. 

“I have encountered your kind before, you know-”

“I know not what you mean,” she insisted in the same tone.

“Touched by the Mothercrystal, blessed of the land,” he stood to his full height then, “We Garleans are afforded no such gifts so I could see why you would attempt to hide it,” his presence bore down on her, “I should hope that is the only reason you have attempted to hide it.”

She sighed softly through her nose in resignation and then stood to match him. Through the observation window she could see their contingent some distance away. The Ultima Weapon making soft clicking sounds as it awoke. Gaius had turned to them staring hard before Willow spoke.

“I will tell his Radiance at once, I had not intended to deceive him.”

“That is not necessary,” Gaius returned to her, “I am sure he knows as much. He is much sharper than he appears.”

A frightening thought as he always appeared to be the sharpest man in the room.

“Then I had not intended to deceive you. I stand by my word. I am here to serve and grateful for my station,” she said calmly. “It is true I am blessed by the gift and it affords me visions of the past. I cannot control the power at whim, but perhaps I can try to use it to better serve the Empire.”

“Perhaps,” he said coolly. “Nevertheless I do find myself wondering why the Emperor has put so much stock in you.” Willow straightened out under his scrutinizing gaze, “I had thought it possible he saw a young girl and was drawn in by the whims of desire,” he turned his head slightly, “But that seems very unlike him. No. There must be something more to it.”

“If you find the answer I should love to know,” she said and then turned her mouth up in a bare hint of a smile, hoping she could receive one in return. She did not.

“Lest you wonder I do not mean to interfere. I only wish to see you fulfill your duties, and to know what more he sees in you that has yet to come to fruition,” he turned back out the window, “We have kept them waiting long enough. Come.”

She knew better than to argue, nor offer any further conversation. Gaius had said his peace and now he expected her at his heels. She did so with no words.

Solus’ bored expression lit up upon seeing her approach, “Ah there you are,” then he pouted, “You had us quite worried you know.”

“Apologies,” she said and then turned slightly to address the rest of the group, all of whom regarded her with various uninterested expressions, “I grew a bit lightheaded,” and then back to Solus with a wry smile, “Perhaps skipping a meal this morning was a mistake.”

“Well we will have to get you something to eat then won’t we,” he smiled in a kind of feigned sympathy. “You missed quite a show but I regret that our tour is almost at an end,” then he straightened out, “Lysander,” the man who she had now gathered was the head scientist bolted to attention, “How goes my little personal project.”

“Ah,” he began, “Proceeding apace, though we may require your expertise whenever you’ve the time. Truthfully it has been fascinating to work on, I feel what we learn from its construction could be applied across numerous other projects.”

Solus nodded shortly, “Good.”

As the Emperor dismissed his team, he and Willow made their way back to the lift. Now with Gaius van Baelsar in tow. Two absurdly tall, intimidating men now bordering her in the small cramped room made it decidedly less comfortable and Willow could do nothing but lean herself into the corner as the two of them spoke.

“Thanks to Miss Yen here you missed the most worthwhile part of the demonstration,” Solus opened the conversation by punishing her for feeling faint, which was to be expected and Willow tried not to roll her eyes.

“I have been keeping apace on the Ultima Weapon myself,” Gaius replied flatly. “I know full well what it is capable of.”

“Come down here on your own have you? Naughty, naughty,” Solus clicked his tongue.

Was that a smile that crossed the Legate’s face? Or the barest hint of one, almost as if he regarded the Emperor with friendly candor, “Well I only hope to keep you apprised of their progress. Given how little you have occasion to visit yourself.”

A jab at the Emperor’s expense. Now Willow was truly surprised.

“Yes well,” Solus shrugged, “You know how busy I am. Ruling the country and all that.”

“Undoubtedly your Grace,” and then the door opened and Gaius gave a curt nod before parting ways with them.

Now alone again he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, “Shall we get you something to eat then?”

“Oh you needn’t trouble yourself,” she replied.

“I insist,” he said cornering her, though she wasn’t terribly obliged to deny a meal in the first place. 

So she only smiled and said, “I suppose if you insist.”

“There you go, don’t be so shy about it,” his gentle smile down at her was making her heart flutter uncomfortably in her chest and when she looked away to focus further down the hall she heard a short laugh escape him.

His hand fell to his side and he led her back to the ground floor, through the dining hall and into the kitchens. The staff inside looked properly aghast, most of them stopping amid whatever task they were doing to regard him with attention.

Willow felt the Emperor’s hand touch the top of her head softly, “Get this dear thing a proper meal, she nearly passed out when making our rounds and I will not have it happening again.”

“Of course, your radiance,” replied an older woman curtly, the only among her young staff to understand how and when to respond to the Imperial family.

Solus looked down at Willow with a strange smile before turning casually to go, waving behind him as if to dismiss the rest of the staff who still stared in awe. When the door to the kitchens shut Willow looked to the rest of them bewildered as they fixed her now with the same expression they had given the Emperor, confusion, and she felt somewhat guilty for giving them yet more tasks to fulfill in the name of the Empire. Especially given that only half of them were true Garleans.

“You needn’t trouble yourself on my account, I can just grab something and get out of your way,” she said, smiling apologetically.

“I can help you,” chirped a young girl from the back, and she turned to see the same servant who had come to wake her earlier that morning. An Elezen.

Without the haze of sleep she noticed her fair skin and long braided black hair. She couldn’t be much younger than Willow herself, and the softness of her face suggested a kindness not often encountered inside the Palace walls.

Without waiting for answer the Elezen made her way to what meals had been prepared for the day and took out a clean plate. Willow couldn’t help but salivate over the richness of it, having been denied anything but military rations for so long. Food was one of her most longed for pleasures in Eorzea, aside from the sunlight and lack of Imperial rule of course.

“What is this,” she asked, pointing to a dish in the middle.

“Pizza,” she said simply, “Is that what you want?”

“Yes please,” she replied in excitement as she watched the girl pile several pieces onto the plate.

What strange combinations of bread and cheese and meat, she would have to remember to tell Tataru about this. She considered the way too much amount that was now on her plate and the kind young girl in front of her and asked in a hushed tone, “Do you have a moment? Perhaps you would like to share this with me?”

The girl looked bewildered at first before glancing at the older Garlean woman who had her back to them.

“I don’t wish to get you in trouble but I simply thought, this is too much food for me. And I’ve hardly any occasion to talk to anyone around here,” anyone but his royal highness that is. And she was somewhat desperate for normal company.

The Elezen then looked back at her, seeming to consider her offer, “I have a moment yes,” then she smiled, “Here, allow me to show you my favorite spot to take lunch.”

The serving girl led her out of the kitchens quietly and once again into the labyrinthian palace halls. She stopped on the second floor and peered slightly through a doorway before opening it wide for her to enter. Inside was a large sitting room, ornately trimmed wooden walls and lavish gold chandelier. On the far side of the room, in favor of yet another wall, was a large window that gave way to the sunny weather outside. The girl’s face lit up in a conspiratorial smile and Willow returned it.

“I can see why you like it here,” she said as they set the food down on one of the tables amidst a gathering of lounges.

“It is one of the Emperor’s many gathering rooms, but I do not believe I’ve seen it used once in all my time here,” she reached for a piece of pizza as Willow reached for her own, “I am Julia by the way.”

“Willow,” the other girl replied with her mouth full of food.

It made the other girl laugh and Willow made sure to chew her food before continuing, “I’ve hardly had occasion to meet anyone here, aside from His Radiance of course, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to have a few friends.”

Julia looked at her for a moment before leaning in and whispering, “Friends that aren’t Garlean you mean.”

She returned the girl’s mischievous expression and whispered back, “Precisely.”

They ate in silence for a moment before Julia continued, “I don’t imagine you have much time to yourself, the Emperor seems to keep you quite busy.” And there may have been a thinly veiled question of Willow’s importance to him in there somewhere.

“Yes, it has been nonstop since my arrival. I’ve not even time for hobbies anymore, I used to love gardening,” and then she sighed wistfully. Another thing to add to the list of things she missed from home.

“I tend to the gardens on occasion, perhaps we could trade,” the girl joked.

“Oh I would love that,” she replied brightly, “Though I don’t imagine you would enjoy following the Emperor around all day and thwarting the occasional coup. The man makes himself quite a target.”

Julia laughed at that and how Willow had missed friendly, normal conversation that was not about political maneuvering with her life on the line. She had almost finished her first slice before commenting, “Do you all get to eat this often? Seeing as how you work so hard to make it.”

“Oh no, that is for the Royal family and his cabinet only,” Julia replied dryly as if she detested the rule, “Though, we have been known to sneak some leftovers on occasion, promise you won’t tell.”

Willow laughed and put a hand over her chest, “On my life.”

Julia smiled gently and then her brow furrowed in distant thought, “I hope you don’t find this too rude of a question,” and Willow had known this was coming, “But why has the Emperor seen fit to show you his favor? Not often a subordinate gets escorted personally to the kitchens.”

Willow took a beat to wipe a bit of sauce from her mouth before sighing, “I wish I could tell you,” she stared at the ground before matching Julia’s eyes, “He has afforded me a kind of attention that he gives to few others and it is beginning to garner the notice of his confidantes.” If Gaius’ words earlier were any indication.

Julia looked at her sympathetically, “The handmaidens as well.”

“Oh dear.”

Then the serving girl grew serious, “You should be careful, Willow. The Emperor is a very powerful man and he is married, besides. Whatever he wants from you it cannot be good.”

Willow’s mouth tense to a frown, “You aren’t telling me anything I haven’t thought of myself. I am doing my best to play his game,” she turned to look out the window, “And I cannot say I don’t enjoy some of what it has afforded me but. You are right.”

Julia only nodded to her and there was a beat of silence before Willow attempted to change the subject.

“So where are you from?”

She hummed in question, “I am not sure, really. My family has served the Empire for as long as I can remember,” she looked down, “Though my grandmother oft spoke of our family farm. A place far from here and full of warmth. What a dream it must have been.”

Willow looked at her sadly, “Perhaps you will see it again some day.”

Julia sighed in resignation, “I do not believe so. But it is a nice thought, it keeps me going when the days get difficult.”

Willow stared at her, and the tired lines in her face even in youth. How long and hard she must work for an Empire that had outcast her from society. Toiling in the palace quietly underfoot.  And it reminded Willow of why she was here.

Julia set what was left back on the plate and looked behind her, “I have to get going but, perhaps we could speak again sometime.”

The mi’qote smiled at her, “I would like that very much.”

The girl nodded, waving before disappearing through the door. Willow was left staring out at the snowy fields, a little less lonely than before and all the more determined to see the Empire’s demise.

Chapter Text

The cold tile floors echo beneath her heels as she walks down the long hallway. Having exchanged a loud and crowded room for the emptiness of it just moments before, and though she is walking in hurried and angry pace she can feel the presence of someone catching up behind her.

“Adrastea,” it calls sharply, the voice not so different than the one Willow heard in her waking hours.

She does not turn around, ignores it, continues walking before the voice comes closer. Whispers fiercely as if to prevent making a scene, “Adrastea, stop this childish nonsense. Look at me.”

She continues walking and a hand snatches her wrist, forcing her to turn and confront the man she has seen before. The one in the fearsome scarlet mask. She rips her arm from his grasp and he allows it, the softness in his eyes says he did it to grab her attention not because he wished her any harm.

“What is there to say, Hades?” she barks fiercely back at him.

Beneath the mask his brow hardens, “Say you will consider it. Say you understand this is our only option.”

“No,” she says with a simple authority. Anyone else would cow to the tone, take it as fact. But this man was not one to cow to anything, for he shared in her authority and stubbornness.

“You are mad,” he bares his teeth, like a dog growling at her, “You would see us all killed.”

“How dare you say that to me,” she growls back. “When you are the ones taking lives.”

She watches him bristle, his always languid pose straightening. Wolf eyes beneath the mask sharp, like he would leap for her throat. He does not, he would never, but the threat is enough to unnerve her.

“I am done with this conversation, I will find a solution myself.”

“You truly mean to leave don’t you,” he asks, his voice high like pleading but there is anger in his tone as well.

She does not answer, turning and walking away from him as he stands there.

“Fine then,” he shouts down the hall, no longer concerned about making a scene. “Go. And watch our people burn.”

Willow awoke drenched in sweat, strange dreams disturbing her normally restful sleep. The sun of mid-morning poured through her small window and she sighed in resignation before pulling herself to a sitting position. 

A moment of re-orienting herself to the present before checking her schedule for the day. The Emperor was observing morning drills? And again she was required by his side. Not often she had so many direct interactions with him in a row, normally it was interspersed with days of boring guard patrol. Not that she was terribly complaining, boring guard patrol may be preferable to tiptoeing around her every interaction in the jaws of the Emperor himself.

She began dressing in her light ceremonial gear before noticing a plate of something on her entry table. Pulling her stockings up she went to find several pastries and a note that simply said ‘as thanks for your kindness -Julia’ . Willow smiled to herself before putting a cherry flavored one in her mouth and continuing to ready for the morning. 

The serving class knew more of the goings on within the palace than perhaps Solus himself, getting to know them better was likely in her own interest. Not to mention having a friend to talk to might be good for her sanity.

Drills were conducted in one of the many military yards on the palace grounds. It took a bit of walking before the sound of shouting drew Willow in the right direction, and even in the distance she could spot the Emperor’s imposing figure among the rest. A fur cloak cut around his person to keep out the cold, even as the sky saw fit to bless them with another sunny day.

The look on his face was as ever, displeased. She was convinced half of the folds on his face were from permanently frowning. Surveying the soldiers under his command with the heir of a disgruntled school teacher.

Though upon seeing her from a distance he seemed to come alive, straightening his posture and smiling at her. She had to make her way around a gathering of all manner of military personnel observing the sparring match in the middle, before she was finally able to reach him. 

“Morning Miss Yen,” he said when she stood beside him.

“Good morning, Your Radiance,” she replied.

He looked at her, frowned, and then returned to staring at the chaos within the gathering, “No need for formalities.”

“Good morning,” she tried again, not one word and already wading through a minefield.

He nodded then crossed his arms as they lingered in silence. From the crowd came Gaius van Baelsar, dressed in a similar cloak of his own pulled by the snowy wind. 

“They are not ready,” he said to His Radiance.

“Oh that much is obvious,” drolled Solus in return, “The question is, how long before they are.”

Lord Gaius surveyed the scene before replying, “If you’ll allow me to personally oversee the ranks, promote whom I deem fit, perhaps three moons? Four? It will be grueling work.”

“Do you believe they are up to the task?”

Gaius crossed his arms in similar fashion, “Young, loyal men. Eager to fight for their Empire. They are up for it, they just needs be taught.”

Solus hummed, “The difficulty will lie in our enemy’s numbers. An Eorzea united will far outweigh any foe we have faced. To say nothing of the various unknowns. Preferred strategy, political leaders. To go in blind is to admit defeat.”

More planning for total warfare. Willow was unsurprised that the Emperor seemed to be following through with Gaius’ plan. A man hungry for war needed no convincing to enter yet another.

“I agree,” said Gaius, “We will need the time anyhow.”

Solus put a finger to his chin in thought and then glanced down at her, “What are your thoughts?”

Upon the question she saw Gaius eyes narrow at her, his face tense at the bizarreness of asking ones foreign bodyguard for tactical advice. Solus seemed to smile at the fact that he unsettled both of them at once and Willow tried to quickly find her footing amid the conversation.

“Well, I am no strategist,” she began if only to sate the look on Gaius’ face, “But perhaps the simplest option is the best? Divide and conquer? If Eorzea allied is so dangerous as you say.”

“And how do you propose that?” continued Solus, unsatisfied with her answer.

“If you pull them in three directions at once they would be more concerned with the needs of their own people, unable to provide support to one another.”

“The plan of a child,” muttered Gaius.

“But there is some merit to it,” said Solus as if he was a proud father, “A gamble certainly for if we fail we will have risked the majority of our soldiers. But to have the Alliance in disarray is indeed our primary goal,” then he placed a hand fondly on her back. 

Her face grew too hot at his touch and she only looked forward, “I appreciate the consideration.”

He rubbed between her shoulders before letting go, pleased with her words. Gaius clearly was not but she would much rather have the Emperor happy with her than his subordinate. Gaius knew it as well. As long as she lie in his favor there was nothing he could do about it without risking his own life. That at least was a comfort.

Gaius then whistled sharply, calling his men to attention. He gathered attention and respect almost as easily as the Emperor himself and she could see why Solus considered him his second in command. 

His Radiance watched the display from beside her momentarily as occasional glances shifted nervously in his direction by the surrounding soldiers. Then, as was his want, he tired of the entire display. He leaned down to whisper to her, “What say we leave this utter bore and get a change in scenery hm?”

“Lord Gaius does seem to have it well in hand,” she agreed.

“My thoughts precisely,” and then he touched her shoulder, “Come.”

She’d no clue exactly where a change in scenery would lead to but she dutifully followed him across the courtyard anyhow. There were several beats of silence with only their heels crunching in the dirt before Solus finally spoke.

“All this talk of warfare must unsettle you,” he was prodding her once again for her thoughts.

She kept her stride firm, her expression impassive despite skipping a single heartbeat, “And why is that, your grace?”

“Well you are so adamant in your bid for peace, chirping away in my ear about it every chance you get. I know in your mind diplomacy is preferable to warfare but you must understand I am doing this for the good of everyone. Garlean rule is in Eorzea’s best interest as well.”

“How so?”

He smiled a bit giddy, “I am so glad you asked. I take it you’ve no memory of Gaius’ report of unchecked beast tribes summoning Primals at length in the continent of Eorzea? A single incident is bad enough but several incidents,” he said with dramatic candor, “Now that is unacceptable and shows a distinct inability of the Eorzean nation’s ability to rule. They cannot protect their people.”

“Then would an alliance not be preferable to conquest? If your goals align in such a way?”

Solus made a disgusted sound, “My dear you cannot align with beasts, they are terribly unreasonable,” he smiled at this and she got the distinct feeling he was not referring to the tribes that called Eorzea home. They reached the back door to the palace and it was summarily opened by two of the presiding guards, he continued inside, “But I do appreciate your willingness to speak your mind. So educational, these little talks.”

He picked up his pace as they reached the long interior hallway, “Now then, I promised you a change in scenery and you shall have it,” he clapped his hands together and looked at her pleased before ducking down a hallway and a small set of stairs.

Willow had never ventured into this part of the palace before and she wondered if the Emperor had yet more secret rooms he desired to show her. But what came into her view was far better than any hidden study.

A wide pair of doors leading to a magnificent greenhouse inside the palace walls. As he allowed her entry she was immediately met with the smell of plantlife and soil after a hard rain. The smells of home. All varieties of flora filled nearly every corner, and she strayed from him immediately to get a closer look.

“As you can imagine Garlemald is woefully uninhabitable when it comes to greenery,” he explained when he saw the smile on her face, “Most of what you see here has come from southern Ilsabard or other such nations blessed with warmth and life.”

“I’d no idea the palace boasted of such extensive gardens,” she said while turning to him excitedly, “This is a magnificent collection.”

A wry smile passed his lips, “A bit of a weakness of mine I am afraid.”

Her head raised to observe the incredibly high vaulted ceilings, gold plating around the windows and sunlight pouring through the windows, “Do you mind if I’ve a look around?”

He bowed comically, “Allow me to give you the tour.”

His heels clicked across the pristine tile, hand resting at her back as he spoke of each grand tree or bed of flowers and where he’d come upon them. The Emperor had an eye for plant life it seemed, explaining that even as a Legatus he would bring home seedlings from his tours and attempt to keep them alive as long as he could.

It was an incredibly charming and innocent story that did not at all match the wolf of a man who stalked at her side. It was obvious he was trying to humanize himself to her but he couldn’t quite bridge the gap. She smiled and laughed at him anyway.

Every once and a while a butterfly would cross their path and she felt something she hadn’t since arriving here. Genuine happiness. And Solus was happy too. Those amber eyes always regarded her with interest but this time there was a fondness in them as well. 

She tore away from him briefly to study a flower that had caught her eye. Wide milky petals with speckles of scarlet in between.

“The Maiden’s Rose,” said Solus and she was surprised he had known the name of nearly every plant she had laid eyes on, “A gift from Doma in an effort to promote peace. They say it brings good luck.”

“Then it appears to have been most fortuitous for Garlemald, given how your people have prospered,” she offered.

“If you believe in such nonsense,” he snorted, “I would credit my soldiers for our prosperity rather than something as intangible as good luck .”

The corner of her mouth pulled to a smirk, “How noble of you,” and he bowed in mock gratitude.

“But enough of these trivial weeds, allow me to show you my crowning glory,” and with that he turned past a mountain of hedges to lead her to the center of the labyrinth.

Throughout their tour she had seen it in the distance, towering over the rest of the gardens, but this close it was even more magnificent. A fully grown tree, one of who’s like she had never seen before. Variegated green leaves and scattered throughout the branches, small clumps of white blossoms.

The incredulous look on her face was readily apparent and the Emperor smiled softly. 

“How,” she asked simply and then looked at him, “How did you get an entire tree, roots and all, to live in this place? Why it’s got to be several centuries old,” she made her way up to its overwhelming trunk, laying her hand across the bark.

“You’d be surprised at what technology is capable of, my scientists are not only in the business of warfare, but medicine, agriculture. Not several years ago was this tree barely above your ears,” he came to stand behind her, “And now it nearly reaches the heavens.”

He was a presence even in a large room such as this and she could feel the heat of his body behind. With his height and billowing cloak he could swallow her up if he wanted to and his hand gently reached under her chin, tipping back her head so that she was forced to look at him.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“Yes, very much so,” she replied gently.

He smiled, “Good. I am glad.”

Then he shifted behind her, not unlike a great stalking predator. His finger traced her jawline and then forced her turn around. 

She was complacent and he moved into her until all her back pressed against the tree’s wide trunk. To be alone with him was to invite his mouth onto hers, but the thought did not trouble her terribly. She gave back to him this time. Softly set her hands on his waist.

He was all wildness bound up behind the tension he carried. Unleashed each time he touched her, unable to stop himself from taking more. Feral, fearsome, his kiss pressed her hard against the rough bark of the tree. 

He would take what he wanted from her, of that she was certain. That she enjoyed it was just a pleasant addition to him. His teeth dug into the soft part of her shoulder and he breathed deep through his nose.

“Oh my dear girl, I must have you here,” he murmured and his hands worked at the throat of her collar, beginning to undress her with a practiced deftness.

Beneath him Willow squirmed uncomfortably, the humid warmth of the greenhouse hitting her bare shoulders, “Your Radiance,” she said quietly in return.

He did not stop, “What is it you want,” he crooned into her neck, “I am a giving man, tell me how I may please you,” another kiss.

The words sent a shiver down her spine, but she could not untangle fear from desire. For the Emperor to take her here, in the middle of his gardens. She was not ready to give him that, she would not give him that. To kiss, to be kissed, it was enough of a risk for her already tender reputation. And if the Emperor owned everything else he did not own her body.

She tied a hand in his hair, heard a deep rumble in his chest in approval. And then she pulled his head back, “Not here,” she said.

To her surprise he stilled, his deep yellow eyes matched hers. Pressed against her he was positively shivering. Body so wound up in anticipation and desire it was affecting him physically. Nearly panting, teeth wet and she thought he may just go for her anyway.

“You would deny me this?” he asked with his eyes narrowed, “You do not feel as I feel? You are lying to me,” it bit out of him in a growl and Willow found herself imagining how she could escape should he grab her again.

But something caught his attention then, eyes staring through her and distant. And not a moment later she heard the click of the wide pair of doors, the tapping of heels in the garden. Emperor Solus pulled himself off of her, breathing deep as he let go of every feeling that had taken hold of him. And now he only looked tired.

Willow stayed leaned against the tree as he left to address the guest now calling his name. It surprised her that he was not so eager to out them as she assumed. But likely it would be more tiresome for him to deal with an open affair within his kingdom than to simply keep them a secret. 

She took a moment to put herself back together before following after him. He had his back to her from afar, standing casually. As she came into view the man who’d come to greet him caught her eye.

“Will sas Yen be joining us?” he asked, it seemed more a statement than a question. Everyone knew she followed at his heels by now.

Solus turned to her and raised her brow, as if this was what he deemed to afford her autonomy over. There was a part of her that saw the opportunity to run and gather her thoughts, to separate herself from the moment that had just taken place. But there was another part of her too, a sickness, someone who never wanted to leave his side.

“Indeed,” she said and Solus smiled at her willingness to stay.

That was one thing she had noticed of the Emperor, no matter how she upset him or how he complained he never stopped chasing her. Never stopped trying to mold her into something more, to pull out the desire he knew she held for him. 

She could not afford to admit that to herself. Could not afford to give to him like she so desperately wanted to. It was too dangerous for a woman in her position and he alone was too dangerous besides. If she committed to this there was no way out, perhaps there still wasn’t. With the Emperor there was never a choice.

Chapter Text

Willow followed at the Emperor’s heels. Beside him his most trusted scientist and in front of them the long hallways of the Imperial palace’s laboratories. She was struck by the smell of it, strange and chemical. Far removed from the smell of dirt in the forest of North Shroud. Her steps clicked against the metal walkways as Lysander led them to a security gate.

It seemed this was something the majority of his scientists were not even privy to. Knowledge that may be vital for Eorzea’s survival. As the gates opened and then shut behind them she observed the room, small in comparison to the rest of the Laboratorum. Fluorescent lights powered by ceruleum lining the ceiling, dark marble floors and in the middle an unexplainable technology.

Dials and levers for which she could not guess the purpose of with a screen above them. On a platform behind what appeared to be the control center was a metal slat raised from the ground. Perhaps to place someone on? So many wires attached from it that she stopped trying to decipher its purpose.

She looked to Solus and his impassive face, folded at the corner of his mouth in a frown. Lysander also saw it and it set him immediately on edge.

“I assure you progress has been made. It is in fact quite functional, a far cry from the last time you visited,” he said.

“Did I say otherwise?” asked Solus but the statement did not match his expression.

“No, your grace, I only wanted to assure you.”

“Well, stop assuring me and show me your good work.”

“Yes, your grace,” the man bowed slightly.

Solus shrugged with that aloof smile on his face and turned to her, “Why is he so frightened?”

Willow only shrugged as if they were old friends sharing some inside joke. As if he truly didn’t know why every soul in the palace was terrified to be placed under his scrutiny. A funny, meaningless joke. As if he had no power to crush them to dust, nor any motivation to do so. 

His smile did not fade and it seemed her response pleased him enough. Lysander called him to the platform, fiddling with something attached by a wire to its edge. A small glass object which he placed in the Emperor’s hand. The Emperor merely stood and stared scrutinizingly at it before Lysander cleared his throat, “Grasp it, if you would your Radiance.”

Solus looked up unimpressed but did as told while the other man flipped switches and dials that caused the machine to jump to life. The expression on Solus’ face gave the portrayal he was not expecting much and in fact much did not happen. The sounds of the machine seemed to give an indication that it was powered on and working but nothing appeared upon the thin screen they had been directed to look at. In fact all that happened was the sounds growing in worrying frequency.

“What is-” Lysander began, “I apologize, this has never happened before. This was not the problem I wished to bother you with. It has been reading souls with relative ease before now.”

Solus watched him panic for a bit, as if the sight was something he wanted to commit to memory, before turning to Willow.

“Perhaps it would prefer a lady’s soul?”

A single laugh from Lysander, “I don’t believe that’s-”

“Come here, Willow,” he said and she hesitated for a moment before coming to stand in front of him.

“Hand,” he said.

She did so and he carefully pulled off her glove and set the glass sphere in her hand, forcing it closed with his own. He smiled at her and she felt the object warm her palm before it spread to the rest of her. Briefly, she wondered if she were about to become another sacrifice for the greater good of science. But then the screen before them lit up and Lysander made a sound of surprise.

An orb of light, bathed in gold with glowing tendrils spinning out from its center. So bright it lit the room and from beside her Solus turned his head, an almost knowing smirk across his face. 

“Well..perhaps it did need the touch of a lady,” Lysander said in disbelief before coming to stand beside him, “So you see, it is now fully capable of reading the aether within the soul.”

“And in such descript detail,” said Solus, golden eyes reflecting the glow of the screen. 

Willow stood motionless, awed by the sight of her own soul. Light moving like a living organism, reaching out and then back, tangled with gold and flecks of violet. What could be the purpose of such a mechanism? To read her down to her very aether?

“My dear girl, you’ve the look of a frightened animal. Do not tell me there are any ill effects?” asked Solus.

“No,” she said quickly, turning to him. “It is only..I have never seen my own soul before. I did not know such a thing was possible.”

“Anything is possible if you open your mind to the world,” said Solus. “If you remain blind to the truth it will devour you,” then he tapped her twice on the head, “Remember that.”

She turned to him quizzically before his attention pulled to Lysander, “Well then. Ask me your question before I tire of you.”

The man straightened out before leading the Emperor further back behind the contraption. Willow continued to stand where she was, staring at the golden sun of her soul before at last the machine clicked off. All the warmth faded from her palm and she only stood and stared at the glass in her hand. Musing that the sensation was strangely similar to the crystal she had once found in Solus’ study. 

She turned the glass between her fingers while Solus and Lysander spoke hushed near the control center for the contraption. The Emperor leaned down, appearing to study several of the mechanisms housed within the structure before she felt something like lightning jolt down the wire and straight to the object in her palm. She hissed, dropping it and letting it swing from the side of the platform. Neither Solus nor Lysander seemed to notice and she only rubbed away the tingling sensation it had left before slowly pulling her glove back on.

The purpose of such a device was far beyond her understanding. To view one’s soul? For what nefarious reason could the Garlean Empire want with such information. Her ears picked up hardly a word between the Emperor and his scientist, only explanations for which she had no context. And something that would hardly help her to relay to Thancred later. 

Solus pat the man on the back before standing and looking to her, “Not very impressive is it? These few flickering lights, bells and whistles. Nothing but a good show.”

“I am impressed,” she answered honestly, shrugging.

A short laugh, “How charming. Though given where you hail from I cannot say I am surprised,” then he took the door, leaving Lysander to tinker with the control unit’s interior, “Now come. The work is endless and I am weary enough already.”

He led her down the hall, lazy gait easy to match before they entered the elevator. With no other soul to sufficiently steal his attention Willow once again found herself the object of his scrutinizing glare. It was a heavy place to be and a hard feeling to shake given what had taken place not a bell before. His hands leaned behind him against the wall and he kept to himself if only to watch her.

She avoided his glance at first before matching it and watching the wide smile crawl across his pale face. 

The door to the lift opened and the moment broke into pieces. Solus gathered himself easily before walking out the door and she at his heels always. But it was not several moments before someone else of interest demanded his attention. The Lady Empress herself.

Solus sighed wearily, as if it were something he had expected. And the Empress looked at him with severity. Anger, frustration, but she could tell by the wideness in her eyes there was fear as well. 

“How would you like I leave the remainder of the day to your leisure?” Solus asked her and that was a solid dismissal if she had ever heard one.

She furrowed her brow at him, “That is very kind your grace, are you certain?

“Yes, it is my kind disposition that drives me to such a decision and do not forget it. Run along now,” he shooed her with his hand and a false smile before crossing the distance to the Empress.

Willow stood and watched them if only for a moment before giving them their privacy. It was obvious the matter was serious, and severely private if not even she was permitted to listen. If she were only stealthier, better of hearing, she might not have to wonder the subject. Though since both talents were beyond her she busied herself with another important matter: making contact with the Eorzean Alliance.

Once back in her room she rifled through what small amount of personal belongings she possessed, stashed carefully in a bag inside a drawer. Among them a small and unassuming pendant attached to a thin cord, one that also happened to connect back to Eorzea as a linkpearl. Though with such distance it did require a clear sky and a good bit of height to work. Easier when she was out training with Garlemald’s troops, harder now that she was trapped within the Imperial Palace.

She sighed, beginning to change out of her uniform and into something more comfortable. Then she laid back against the bed and dangled the pendant over her nose, staring at it as if it would answer her. Too much idling before a knock on her door pulled her from reverie. Quickly, she shoved the linkpearl in her pocket before opening it, and there stood a tall Elezen girl in her doorway.

“I was hoping you were done for the day,” she said pleasantly, looking to be in civilian clothing, “I was actually about to head out into the city and wondered if you would like to join me. Or perhaps were permitted to join me.”

Willow raised her brow, “I would love to. I am glad to hear his Radiance does not trap his servants within his walls.”

She laughed, “Nearly, but we do get a day to ourselves now and then. I had a thought that since you’re fairly new here you’d likely never seen what the city has to offer. And after our talk yesterday I thought, well, maybe it would help.”

Willow smiled at the unprompted act of kindness, yet still thinking about the linkpearl burning a hole in her pocket. This could be the opportunity she was looking for and yet still she was hesitant about it as she followed the girl down the hallway. 

No one could be trusted here, so said the Scions. Any member of the palace could be liable to out your cover, from fear or loyalty equally. Julia seemed genuine and kind but she had seen nothing but Garlemald within her life. Even though she had her complaints would the fear of her livelihood being upheld and her family put in danger drive her to dire measures? Willow knew she had to be careful.

Julia led her through the servants doorway, cutting through the palace’s decorative outdoor gardens and through the gates of its towering fence to reach the roads of the city itself. The sun shown high in the sky and staring out at the vast and towering city Willow could not help but find it beautiful. There was beauty in New Gridania, in Limsa Lominsa, but nothing quite so grand as Garlemald. 

Her friend caught her staring, “Quite a sight, isn’t it? Trapped behind the palace walls you almost forget it exists.”

“I am begrudgingly impressed at all the Empire has accomplished,” Willow replied and Julia laughed. 

“Aren’t we all,” she said offhand as she made her way down the pathway etched at the side of the road.

Opening up into the main street the city engulfed them with its bustling noise. Citizens of Garlemald going about their day, running their errands, going to work. Not so different than Eorzea if Eorzea had roads for vehicles instead of dirt pathways for chocobo carriages.

“Have you ever ridden in one before?” Julia asked when she stared too long at one.

“Only an airship,” she replied, “It looks a bit claustrophobic if I am being honest.”

Julia watched as one stopped at the curbside before turning, “They say it was the Emperor’s invention you know. But they say that about a great many things,” she led her across the busy street, “That he discovered ceruleum, that he laid the groundwork for our city. They would credit him for hanging the moon in the sky if they could.”

“They seem to think very highly of him,” she replied while catching up to Julia’s side.

“Of course,” she replied brightly, “He is our great leader, the founder of our nation. To serve him is to be given the highest honor,” she turned with a smile tucked in her mouth which said she did not believe the words, “But it is no secret our kind are outcasts here. I have been turned away by more than one establishment.”

Willow frowned in sympathy.

“That is why we few must stick together, and find the places we are welcomed most,” she motioned with her hand at a building not far in front of them, “Come. I will show you the best of what this country has to offer.”

She followed the young Elezen through the doorway and into a lift. It climbed ever higher until at last opening to their destination and Willow was greeted with the sound of laughing and the smell of food and spices. 

A young miqo'te girl with dark skin and long black hair braided back caught their eyes immediately. Judging by her slit pupils and facial markings she appeared to be a Seeker of the Sun. Her face lit up in a smile and she offered her arms in a hug to Julia.

“So good to see you my friend, we were not sure you’d make it,” the woman said.

“H’alani, ‘tis rare indeed that I get to see you all, I would risk his Radiance’s ire at any given opportunity,” replied Julia cheerfully.

The girl covered her mouth in a laugh, “Do not say that too loudly now,” and then she looked to Willow, “Who is this you have brought with you?”

“None other than the Emperor’s personal guard,” Julia stated proudly.

Willow offered her hand and her name before the girl looked at them both surprised, “Is that wise?” she asked hushed.

Julia looked affronted, “I’d say she could deserve a respite tenfold than the rest of us, she must withstand the Emperor’s presence more than the lot of the handmaidens,” H’alani crossed her arms as Julia continued, “Don’t be so cross now. She is from Corvos as you, ‘tis not her fault she was forced to serve.”

The other girl hummed, “I suppose. Forgive my rudeness Willow,” she took her hand, “From where in Corvos do you hail? I do not know of many moon clans that call the region home.”

And here was something Willow had no considered. The mi’qote she had served among spoke nothing of themselves, questioned nothing of her origin. The Garleans were none the wiser to any specifics among her race and it was easy to blend in without suspicion. But here was someone who knew Corvos, truly knew it. Had grown up with clan and country. She would be outed no matter what she said.

“Truthfully I do not remember much of it,” she answered, attempting to keep her voice steady. “My family was taken as conscript when I was quite young.”

“I see,” H’alani replied. She did sound slightly suspicious, but Willow was beginning to gather this woman was suspicious of everything. As well she should be as an outsider living among wolves.

“Come,” Julia said, freeing her from H’alani’s scrutiny, “Let us get something to drink shall we.”

“I have never heard a better suggestion,” the other girl said, before taking Julia’s hand and leading her to the back of the crowded room.

It was an evening of drink and warm conversation. Julia relayed all of the palace’s juiciest gossip which gathered a crowd of friend and acquaintance alike. It seemed having an in to all of the Emperor’s dirty laundry, perhaps both literally and figuratively, made her quite popular among the Empire’s outcasts.

It was later into the night when everyone was several drinks in that H’alani offered, “Willow here is the Emperor’s bodyguard.”

That brought out an array of surprised expressions and Willow suddenly felt the subject of the conversation shift to her.

“So you are by his side then?” asked someone.

“For the majority of the day. He does not always require my assistance, and I would say he is quite capable of protecting himself. He claims to have taken a personal guard at the behest of his wife the Lady Empress, though who is to say.”

A mi’qote man barked a laugh, “And how is that behind closed doors? They say that it is a marriage of convenience you know,” he turned to the crowd, “The Emperor finds her so distasteful he cannot even get it up to bear her an heir,” his bark of laugh was loud and Willow could not keep her brow from furrowing at the crassness of the words.

“I cannot speak to that, they seem quite civil in my own company,” though she remembered the face on his lady not earlier that day. The stern severity of it.

“Oh come on,” said H’alani, “You can give us more than that surely. We will not report you for speaking ill of his Radiance, far from it.”

Willow considered the thought. There was an opportunity here, a camaraderie she could forge between outcasts of the Empire. If she could win their favor it might help with the war to come.

A soft smile crossed her face and she sighed, “‘Tis true he’s a habit of antagonizing the empress as some form of personal entertainment. And I see her grow frustrated with him at times but, I believe deep down she does truly care for him.”

“And the Emperor?” asked H’alani.

Willow pursed her lips, “Truthfully? I am not sure. At his table the subject of an heir has been brought about many a time. Each swiftly quieted in turn. Most recently he urged a member of his cabinet to lay with the Empress himself if he were so inclined.”

“The Emperor begging his cabinet to lay with his wife? Now that is something,” barked the same crass man from earlier, and it got a raucous of laughter from the crowd.

Willow realized she had likely started a piece of gossip that was bound to make its way through the city and back to the Emperor’s ear, but it was unlikely such a thing would be traced back to her. After all, any one of his cabinet might have spoken the same at one of their lavish gatherings. Rumor mongering was something of a trend among the Garlean high houses.

“You should come more often, Willow,” laughed H’alani, “You have better gossip than even Julia.”

Willow shrugged and smiled, “You would not believe half of what I have seen. The Imperial Palace truly is a societal marvel in its own right. And the Emperor,” she almost laughed finally sharing the absurdity of it all, “Everything out of his mouth surprises me.”

H’alani looked excited by the idea, “We have all heard the rumors of his eccentricity but to experience it in person must be tiresome.”

“Somewhat entertaining,” Willow shrugged.

“That is one way to look at it.”

As the group spoke among themselves Julia made a sound as if she had just thought of something, “Come Willow, I must show you something.”

The girl’s hand offered to her and Willow took it. Lead to the back of the room and up a winding spiral staircase. The door at the end hit them with a bracing wind and she realized it opened to a balcony. Julia took her to the end and leaned over to the city below. 

It was lit up in the early evening, the dying sun shone across the cascade of ceruleum lights. Though cities like Uldah and Limsa Lominsa were impressive in their own right, this was something else entirely. Otherworldly in both architecture and technology and leaning beside her Julia smiled.

“Isn’t it something?”

“Indeed.”

Behind Julia H’alani leaned at her back, wrapping her arms around her in the cool breeze. Willow was unsurprised to see the easy affection. Upon the Elezen woman’s face was a warm smile.

“Let’s return to the rest, it’s too cold out here,” grumbled H’alani.

“I’d stay a moment, if I could,” said Willow.

“Of course,” Julia brushed her shoulder, in the midst of getting pulled back by H’alani. “As long as you like.”

As she heard the door shut behind her she clasped the pendant that had been burning a hole in her pocket. Carefully she held it to her mouth and pressed the button to hear a relieved and curious Thancred on the other side.

“I do not have much time,” she began in a hushed tone, “But you should know the Emperor is being urged by his commander to infiltrate Eorzea.”

“What?” he barked, “When?”

“I do not know, several moons time at least but he is of a mind to move as quickly as possible. His commander cites reckless primals and beast tribes as the reason for annexation, but truthfully, I don’t believe the Emperor needed a reason at all. There is something about him,” she paused, “I believe he would have all of the star under his command if he could.”

“Willow. This is..” Thancred began before letting out a breath.

“Please, you must listen carefully,” she began, and in her mind laid out every important piece of information she could remember. Thancred listened dutifully, repeating what she said to be sure it was as clear as possible.

“Is that all?” he asked when at last she had finished.

“Yes,” she said shortly and checked behind her to find herself still thankfully alone, “There is one more thing..I have been inside the city, met with some of the citizens. These people are in danger as much as our own. Most of them have no choice but to live here, know no other way. I worry what will become of them if-”

Thancred cut her off, “We’re not here to hurt its citizens, Willow, only its Emperor. You know we will shield them best we can.”

“I know,” she sighed. “It is only unfortunate for both of our people to be caught in the crossfire of ugly conflict.”

“Always.”

“I best get going. I will contact you again as soon as I can to hear of the plans you’ve made.”

“Wait,” he called before she could put her finger on the button, “Are you still alright? The last time we spoke you mentioned the Emperor and-”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, “Nothing untoward has happened between the two of us.”

“Rather unspecific.”

“It is kind of you to worry about me Thancred, but I really must go,” she said quickly, not desiring to cross the subject with him any further.

“Alright. Stay safe,” and then he was gone.

Chapter Text

Willow was, at last, free of company, and very eager to return to her bed for the night. She had taken but a bell more to enjoy Julia’s company and finish her drink so as to avoid suspicion but eventually she excused herself, finding her way back through the darkness of the city.

And now as she made her way down the wide hallways of the Imperial palace, mind adrift at Thancred’s words and all that may soon transpire, something caught her eye.

Far above a violet glow glinted in the palace’s own fluorescent light. Hard to ignore, rendering her curious. More of the Emperor’s secret experiments? In a place not even his wife knew about? She had of course not forgotten the golden crystal that once pulled her to that exact room and could not help wondering if this light was the same.

The wisest action would be to return to her own room for the night and put no more thought into the eccentricities of the Emperor and his similarly eccentric schemes. But the pull was there. As sure as the crystal before it was beckoning her to an unknown destination. 

She closed the door behind her and stared at her bed, pulled her coat off as if that would somehow prevent the inevitable. The allure that she was presented with each time she was in his Radiance’s presence. Was she truly so desperate for the attention or was it something more? It had to be, these dreams, his cryptic words. She was a part of some larger plan of his, she was certain. And yet to fight it seemed madness. Already she risked enough of her life in secrecy and she had no choice but to go along with his desires. Or at least, such words made her feel better about what actions she took now. Following the winding halls to the hovering violet light.

It did, as Willow surmised, lead her straight to the Emperor’s office. Solus’ bureau of secrecy known only to her and himself. The polarity she felt only strengthened so close to her destination. And in hesitation she reached out her hand to pry back the door.

Solus was there as expected. Hunched over the desk at the back of the room, hand to his temple as he wrote. Beside him a decanter of whiskey, nearly empty, and a small glass. He’d not seemed to have noticed her and she hesitated between one room and the next. She could leave now if she truly wished.

Quietly she pulled back at her heel.

“Now,” a sharp noise, his yellow eyes focused on her. “Just hold on a moment.”

She froze like prey unmoving.

“You aren’t going to say hello?” a twisted smile, not as held back as usual. Unfurled for all the tired lines on his face.

“It was not my intention to disrupt his Radiance at so late an hour. I only believed this room to be empty,” she said, heel still out of the doorway.

“Well it is not,” he answered as if she were foolish for thinking so. His eyes never left hers.

“So I will be going then.”

“Come here,” strong and demanding, “Come here, and tell me the truth.”

“I am unsure what you mean,” and yet she found herself forced into the room. The polarity of a light she could no longer see still pulling at her person.

The Emperor sat down his pen, leaned his head easily into his hand and looked at her poised to make some sort of trouble, “Tell me what it is you want. There is no need to be shy.”

There was something about him. Cracked at the edges. In the dim light he hung heavy, terribly weighted by some invisible force. The same force that called her here?

As her steps took her ever closer, wood beneath her feet creaking with light steps, his hand reached out. Close enough that he could grasp her chin, brush his bare thumb against her jawline.

He was underdressed, she noted. Coat from earlier hung on the back of his desk chair, gloves gone as well. And he smelled of whiskey.

“Frightened still,” he spoke lower now that she was close, “And after all the good hospitality I have shown you.”

Willow would bristle at the comment but instead said, “I hope you will not find this an offense but, his Radiance is rather frightening.”

A low ‘hmph’, “To lesser men maybe but not to you.”

The comment struck her as odd, another occasion in which he separated her from his flock. As if there were something in her that should be different.

“You came because you knew we would be alone,” he offered flatly.

“I came because I could not sleep,” she began, “I thought I may pass the time in your study.”

A heavy sigh and the hand at her chin felt her throat. He leaned forward and pulled her into him at the same time. His breath brushed against her brow, “Do not lie to me girl, I am too damn old for it. The truth. Now.”

She did not look him in the eyes, did not think of his teeth and how close they came to tearing her throat. When she answered it was leveled, emotionless, “I do not know why I came here.”

A cackle, startling for how quietly he had been speaking before, “You do not know? Guided by some invisible hand to the study in which I reside? Senseless, reasonless? I think not. There is reason in every action, motivation behind every word. Even if you do not understand it yet.”

She shook her head just slightly before his hand pulled from her. He took himself to the forefront of his desk, leaning heavy against it. The wood creaked from his weight and he crossed his arms in observation. He appeared passive like this but there was something wild thrumming just beneath the surface. She could not explain how she knew, how she felt it in the air. As though it was sharp with aether waiting to strike.

She would not be the match that lit the flame.

“I will be going now,” she said.

“Is that what you think?” he replied.

“Yes.”

A hum, but so low in his throat it sounded more as a growl. His position adjusted just slightly, height overbearing as he watched her. 

His mouth widened to a smile. There was nothing about it that conveyed truth, it was false and frightening, “Not until I have what I want.”

His hand reached out and cupped her head gently, fingers twisted between her hair. Her body did not lean into the touch, rather stood rigid at the coldness of his hand, of his gaze. 

“I will bear it,” he said and she did not know what he meant, “I will bear it but I must know.” His eyes stared into hers, flickering. His words as though pleading with some god she could not see, his hand tightened on her, “The truth.”

She did not know how to answer, what words would calm the madness in his low tone. Every part of her aching to run as his thumb brushed down her cheek. A softness to his face as he stared at her but there was a distance to his gaze as though it were not she he was truly looking at. She was silent, imagining that he may tire of her unwillingness to play his game.

Instead, he sharpened.

“Well?” he called and his hand tightened in her hair, “Putrid thing who wears her face. Speak with her mouth and answer me.”

Her brow furrowed at the frightening implication of his words, at the confusion with which he viewed her. Delusional and yet always in control. The whiskey had not seemed to soften the erratic nature of him.

“What would his Radiance have of me?” she asked, voice a calmness to his severity, “Clearly he looks for someone he cannot find. And I will never be enough to satisfy him.”

Rumbling growl of laughter, “True,” he said. “But then how do you feel? Despite my constant provocation and your rejection of it, you have never denied me outright. You have not run, you are still here. Flitting about in my palace, parading around at my side.”

She breathed out in something of a laugh and it sparked life into his eyes. “You think I have a choice?” she asked.

“Truly?” he replied, nonchalant, “I do. And,” he shifted to lean his arms back on the desk, “If we may speak candidly I feel it,” his hand touched the bone between her chest, “Right. Here. That youthful longing, a girlhood crush. Ah, how free you must feel,” he spoke as though deriding her but she almost felt it was genuine.

Willow breathed out slowly, feeling the warmth of his hand on her chest. Strong, almost calming and she could not explain it. She closed her eyes before looking away. He hung forward now, hand never moving, eyes focused hard on her lips.

Her heart raced under his palm. And she took another breath between them.

“I will not lie to you.”

“Then don’t.”

“Something called me here. A feeling, a vision. I felt-” she paused swallowing.

“Yes, go on,” his hand dragged from her chest up to her shoulder, pressing hard, thumb rubbing across her back almost in reassurance.

Willow closed her eyes before answering, “I felt that I needed to see you.”

“And here you are,” a soft, rough laugh before he reached down and kissed the top of her head softly, “Good girl.”

There was a thin trembling under her skin. An adrenaline to be caught in the spider's web, barefaced for all her attempts to hide her feelings. 

“Why?” she asked as he stepped around her. Inspecting her as she stood rigid.

He shrugged easily, “The whims of destiny? The cruelness of fate? Who is to say,” he sighed looking forlorn before lighting up again, “But are you not glad that such things came to pass?” his toothy smile spoke of danger and did not make her particularly glad of anything. He held out his hand to her, “Come. Allow me to show you how truly fortunate you are.”

She stared at him before raising her chin in resolution and putting her smaller hand in his. He folded his own over it, running his thumb up to her wrist. Observing her as an object of fascination. Slowly and with care. 

“That which burns within you,” he spoke, “It is the purest of souls, a guiding light by which your kin follow,” his hand gripped tightly to her now, painfully. A faint tingling sensation hummed at her fingertips. “You are unworthy to bear the strength of such a soul and yet that is the soul the everturning wheel of life saw fit to give you,” the tingling crawled up her arm, her shoulder. Her vision grew dark, her chest heavy. And as he spoke she truly believed herself to be dying. “I become thee,” his words echoed at the back of her mind, “Memory and mind.”

There were words on her tongue, in her throat but she could not speak them. Her mouth did not move and all at once her body was alight. On fire with a prism colors blinding her vision. Something was swallowing her whole, drowning her and she swam to the surface again and again as it held her under. Clawing her open without permission, reaching inside. She thought she must have curled in on herself, cried out, but what remained of her bodily awareness told her she hadn’t moved at all.

And all at once something swelled within her, a tremendous power that let loose through the whole of her. Pushed her to the surface, banished the dark force that encroached on her soul. Only a small sound of fear, a rush of breath and growling snarl from the man in front of her. A surge of adrenaline told her to run but he grabbed her arm viciously, twisted it until her back pulled to his chest.

He squeezed her, nearly clawing at her as if he wished to break her in half.

“How dare you,” and it fell from him cracked and broken, “You cowering, sniveling creature. And after all I have offered,” and from against his chest she could feel him shaking. It was anger yes but something else. A frail distraughtness to his tone and his body language. 

Willow could not find her tongue, could not speak between all that had happened. No Garlean was possessed of magic, of even a functioning aetherial system. And yet she had no explanation for what she felt.

All at once he shoved her forward. She landed on the cold floor as he stood and took a steadying breath.

“Get up,” he snarled as if he had not been the one to drop her, “Get up and leave here at once,” his eyes were fire, “I will not have another moment of my time taken up by your presence.”

She looked at him resolutely, eyes narrowed before standing. It was much less than he deserved. But there was a violence in him, a terrible darkness where he stood now. Her skin still burned from where he had gripped her and she had no desire to see what further lengths he would go. So she only stood quietly, anger on her face, before turning to leave.

Chapter Text

Soft echoes in the distance. A voice not unlike the one of Mother Hydaelyn. Reaching out and begging for her touch in return. But try as she might she could not bridge the gap.

                                        I become thee 

                Are you certain?

                                      I have never been more.           

               There is no going back.

                                      I would not want to.

                                                              And I thee.

Every night she awoke to the same words, begging to be spoken aloud. And yet as the hours passed she would soon forget them. Only to be reminded when sleep befell her again.

The days saw her estranged from his Emperor’s side, no doubt by design. He was colder than usual, his detached and laissez faire nature in every societal instance exchanged for a callous cruelness. Another terrible facet of his person to be certain but it never showed its face quite so often as it did now. She was glad to be rid of him at least for the time being.

She watched the serving staff and their careful, fearful nature should he stalk the halls. Even Gaius was steering clear of him, requesting his opinion in only several small matters only if pressed.

So when Willow received a summons from his Imperial highness that required her presence in the war rooms she only imagined the worst. And upon opening the door she found it to be completely empty with the exception of Solus leaning himself back in a chair, tablet in hand. Not his normal seat at the head of the table, one of the lesser ones. He looked up at her arrival and met her with a cat-like smile.

“No one is here,” she stated, as if that would somehow prod an answer out of him.

“Oh no, no one is here,” he replied, lilted, “Whatever will we do alone with no supervision,” and then more serious, “Close the door won’t you.”

With hesitation, she did. He seemed to be in a far better mood than he had been as of late but a good mood could bode equally ill for her she surmised.

“Come, come,” he said, turning away from his tablet and pulling a chair out beside him. He turned it to face across from his person and motioned for her to sit.

She looked at him with scrutiny before doing as commanded and without asking he grabbed both of her hands in his own. She became still and quiet as she always did when faced with his touch.

“I should like to apologize to you for my behavior some nights ago,” he said, staring into her eyes.

Her brow raised in surprise.

“It occurs to me now that your reaction was no fault of your own. You are not whole, naive of your form and your nature. And you have no control over its whims. That is sad for you and I should be more understanding.”

 “I am not sure what you mean,” she said at first, and then at the way he prodded her. Continued to put her down even after what he had put her through in nights prior she furrowed her brow, “And that sounds rather unlike an apology.”

“Oh but it is one. An apology,” he said, growing more eccentric in nature, “My actions were ill thought out and my state of mind was somewhat precarious.”

Drunk you mean.

“I only wanted that you should not look at me so each time we pass in the halls,” he continued, smiling with a disingenuous look of guilt on his face.

She turned her head slightly, not knowing how to respond. Forgiveness was of course what he expected, for why would he not? He was a man of power and she would say what she must.

“So? Do you accept?”

But she would not give him the benefit of making it genuine, “I suppose.”

He barked a laugh, “You suppose? Oh you are charming when you want to be,” and then a long hum as he stared at her. She thought there might be some addendum to the statement, some touch some kiss. If he was going to apologize, if this harshness would fade for affection she would not deny it. Even still she would not deny it. But he only smiled at her before getting up to leave.

“You don’t mean to explain yourself?” she called after him.

“In what way, my dear?”

She stared at him incredulously, “What happened that night, what did you do to me?”

His head turned slightly, a smile somewhere between gentle and smug crossing his face, “Nothing I desired to do, that is for certain.

“That answers nothing,” she said, perhaps more desperate as the words from her dream rattled around in her head.

“So it doesn’t,” he opened the door and made to leave before stopping. He stood there as if in thought before shutting the door and turning around again, “Do you think you deserve these answers you desire so badly? Do you think you could comprehend them? That they would not shatter your world, break your mind. That your small, insignificant life could do something, anything , with the knowledge you gain?”

Willow stared at him with a furrowed brow. Her eyes burned into his and he seemed to enjoy the challenge. 

“Well?”

He was trying to get her to submit. He enjoyed the challenge, yes, but only if it were one he could win. Willow could see this was an end to the argument. He desired no rebuttal lest she incite his ire, and so she stayed quiet and in turn stayed safe. With a sigh that may have been marginally pleased he replied, “That is what I thought,” and left the room.

His apology did lessen the awkwardness between them somewhat. Enough for them to work closely through the following days as the Emperor continued to plan for his Eorzean incursion. She was not always privy to what was going on, sometimes joining the guard in the succeeding drills or patrolling the palace grounds. A boring job on its own but gratefully absent of his large Imperial presence.

On occasion she would be granted reprieve which found her seeking Julia and the serving staff more often than not. And it was one such occasion that she found now. Reclining in the Emperor’s grand serving room, with only each other’s company and a large tray of pastries. 

The door opened with a loud creak, shocking them both to attention, and within the room’s doorway stood the Emperor himself. He was dressed in fine ceremonial attire today, gloves and all, likely having been in meetings with various important persons for the majority of the day.

Julia beside her stood at rapt attention and Willow understood her fear. It was his presence, his eyes, the way he smiled like he knew something that may seal your fate. And when he entered the room the other girl shifted nervously as if she truly might bolt out the door.

“Run along, dear, I must have words with sas Yen,” he said to her flatly.

Julia nodded without hesitation, giving a short sympathetic look to Willow before leaving through the opposing parallel door so as to not have to pass his Radiance in any way. Solus head turned to her just slightly and then he smiled at Willow.

“Having afternoon tea with the girls are we? How quaint,” he offered before her.

And then he sat himself beside her, somewhat closer than Julia herself had been. He smelled like expensive cologne and it was clear whomever he’d been meeting with had been given quite a presentation. The entirety of his wealth and power on display. 

He stared at the plate of pastries on the table and then to her, “Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes,” she said simply, because she truly had been before he summarily quashed it.

He smiled as though he were perhaps expecting an apology, or an explanation. He was just as pleased with her honesty however. His gloved hand reached out to grasp her chin, a favorite motion of his meant to sharpen her focus to he alone.

“Good,” he stated simply in return, “I’ve no use for a girl who cannot lighten up.” Then he leaned back, pulled his hand from her and draped it behind the sofa, “I am unsure if you have heard but her Lady the Empress has taken to warmer weather for the time being.”

Something on the lips of all the serving staff. She had left not a day ago on an airship bound for the southern islands and not a soul knew why. 

“I have heard,” she replied.

A smile, “Of course you have, her handmaidens do so love their gossip. Except, you see, her departure creates rather a problem for me.”

“How so?”

“Why, I had plans to attend the theatre tonight and she was set to accompany me,” he replied as if it were obvious.

The how or why of the Empress’ early departure when she had yet made plans did not cross her tongue. Better not to know at all. And in her silence Solus turned his gaze, studied her before a wide smile unfurled on his expression, “I suppose my formal guard will have to do.”

So he was content to doom her then, “Is that wise?”

He pouted, “The theatre is quite a ways from the city, one may even consider it dangerous. No, I shall not attend without my personal guard in tow and that is the last I am hearing of it.”

She stared at him, understanding that he had never explicitly asked her a question, only stated a demand. Surely the Empress had left of her own accord, had not been coerced to do so at the suggestion of His Radiance. And surely for not so petty a reason as this.

“As you say, your Radiance,” she replied to his extreme pleasure.

“Good, good,” and there was a hint of genuine excitement in his voice.

The idea pleased him and she could not say why. He was nothing but lust driven hatred in her presence. To use her while never gaining enough of what he wanted. And here she was joining him in attending the theatre as if he were courting her, as if there weren’t a thousand extraneous reasons why this was a terrible idea.

“I look forward to it,” he said before getting up and grabbing a pastry from her tray, he took a bite before saying, “You may call your serving girl back if you wish, no doubt she did not go far. So eager to drop eaves are those women.”

It was just like him to put down everyone in the room before leaving and she found herself letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he finally left the room. It was likely suffering and damnation that awaited her tonight but there was some prospect of excitement to it as much as she would like to deny it. To accompany his Radiance to so fine an affair in the exemption of his Lady Wife, making her feel as a prize to be won.

She was a terrible person.

Chapter Text

In the hours of early evening, as Willow paced about her room in nervousness for the Emperor’s personal arrival, a flickering light in her pack grabbed her attention. With a glance to the door she pulled out her linkpearl and answered its call.

“Oh thank Gods…..were worried…..wouldn’t go through,” she could make out Thancred’s voice just barely above scattered static.

“Thancred is something wrong?” she asked in a hushed voice, burying herself in the corner behind her bed.

“We…spies.”

“What?”

“The Eorzean…need to…within the week.”

“Wait, Thancred I don’t understand. What do you need me to do. If the Alliance aims to go on the offense I won’t be safe here.”

“We’ll…” a loud roar in her ear as the connection stuttered and halted entirely. She held it away from her ear, wincing in pain before hurriedly trying to return the call. But it was useless. Without a proper height advantage she would never be able to reach him so deep within the palace.

A knock at the door caused her to quickly shove the pendant into her pack and stand to attention. A serving girl not much younger than Julia peered in, wearing the look most people did after speaking with Solus.

“His Emperor requests your attendance at the airship pavilion at once, Miss.”

“Thank you, I will be there shortly,” she responded as one does to such a command.

The girl nodded and shut the door and Willow realized both her and the Emperor could be in grave danger. If not tonight then soon. She glanced forlorn at her linkpearl before she slipped it into her pocket against her better judgement. If she had a chance to reconnect with the Scions she needed to take it. The Eorzean Alliance’s plans were yet unclear to her. And though she knew the Scions would take every measure they could to protect Garlemald’s civilians, would the Alliance feel the same?

Upon meeting the Emperor on the airship pavilion she was somewhat relieved to find it was not just her in his company. A small entourage of the palace guard and his personal pilot joined them as well, though it was she who finally coaxed a smile from him.

She had thought they were to take an airship to one of the further points of the capitol, what happened instead was a departure from Tertium, a railway personally reserved for the Emperor and the houses of higher standing. Quick and useful travel seemed to be a staple of Garlean technology and yet the finest and most effective seemed to be reserved for the wealthy.

Though the train was occupied by no one but them, Radiance’s attache seemed determined to stay by his side. After expressing his distinct displeasure at the fact they reluctantly left him to his privacy. All but Willow of course, whose arm was grabbed at her attempt to follow in futility.

She looked at him and he at her. They said nothing and she sat a good distance to his side. Slowly the train began to disembark and she stared outside as the city faded from view.

The dying light against Garlemald’s vast snow covered fields poured through the windows. The way the shadows played across his face gave him the look of someone old and wizened, yet he could not be older than fourty summers at most. His gaze at once seemed distant and then shortened to find her face.

“How do you find it? This cold, unforgiving land,” he stated rather than questioned, “It must pale in comparison to the warmth and growth you are accustomed to.”

“It is different, yes,” she began, “But despite its coldness I believe there is warmth in its people.”

He snorted, “There is no need to feign a love of king and country around me. Its people are just as cold, we both know this.”

She shrugged, “I think they can be kind.”

His furrowed brow turned surprised and his grimace turned to a smirk just slightly, “Goodness you truly believe so don’t you? Such innocence in your face that I cannot deny your honesty, even if I heartily disagree.”

Willow hummed quietly and he turned to her, almost too eager.

“Does a thought yet linger on your tongue?” he asked lightly, “I would hear it.”

“‘Tis just, I know little of where you come from. Only that you are the Emperor and that if the Garlean public is to be believed you earned that title through conquering and brutal warfare.”

A low laugh, “Is there any other kind?”

“I do not mean to overstep,” she began, knowing that though he wished to portray himself an open book he was anything but, “I only wondered if you had lived your entire life here, since you seem to despise it so.”

“A pertinent question, given all you have heard,” he smiled as if he felt pride, “I shall answer if you wish.”

She nodded.

“My life, such as it is, has been spent in Garlemald’s cold shadow. As a boy I was raised to a family with no wealth to speak of. My father worked the fields in what little summer warmth we were given to feed our family but it was never enough. And so did I make the decision to enlist in the Garlean army, if only to provide what I could for my kin.”

“It seems you proved quite successful, I should hope your parents are well?” she asked.

“They are dead, my dear, for all the money in the world could not protect them from the enemies my power made me.”

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replied flatly, “It was long ago. And it taught me a very important lesson about trust, and who is to deserve something so precious.”

The harsh look upon his face did not convey any grief he may have felt and it was difficult to read if there had been any love there to begin with.

“So you have only ever known Garlemald then,” she stated when he grew quiet.

He looked at her loftily, “I may have lived a life in Garlemald but that does not mean I am ignorant to the world around me. In fact I am quite familiar with your country and its ways. And Ala Mhigo too, oh yes, perhaps you have heard of it? It lies close to our soon to be conquered Eorzea.”

Her expression was impassive, a simple nod should anything else give way to honesty.

He seemed pleased by it before continuing, “And, well, this may sound strange,” he said and he looked at her almost sheepishly. If she could believe he were capable of such a thing, it mostly seemed like a performance he was putting on for her pleasure, “I have dreamed of another world. One far greater than the one we are in now.”

It would seem strange, mad even, if she had not had similar dreams herself. But to speak the words aloud. And to him. Of all the souls she could trust with such thoughts.

“And is that what drives you?” she asked when it seemed he was finally finished, “You wish to see this world of your dreams.”

His smile was something between warm and patronizing, “Indeed. The task has proven exceptionally difficult however,” he leaned back easily, pulling a leg across his lap, “I fear I may even need several lifetimes to see it to fruition.”

“The purpose of an heir, I suppose,” she mused.

A single cold laugh, “No child of hers could be entrusted to any legacy of mine.”

A simple statement for which he offered no elaboration. But it did answer any questions she may have had about his true feelings for the Empress. He despised her. It solidified his motivations for her company completely. A man in an unhappy marriage, longing for something more. Growing older, pressured for an heir he was unwilling to provide.

“Did you send her away?” she asked in the resuming quiet.

His distant look pulled back to her again, “Hm?” he asked lightly.

“The Empress. Was it you who sent her away?”

A wicked smile, delighted at the insinuation, “Oh dear, do you perhaps think this was a nefarious plan devised by yours truly? That I sent my beloved ladywife away under the guise of business while I court and bed my personal guard? How scandalous.”

Her brow furrowed in something like concern which pleased him most greatly until his expression flattened out, “You think too highly of yourself. The Empress desired the warmth of the Southern Isles, and I saw fit to grant her wish. That I should be free to request your company in her stead is only a pleasant addition to an otherwise pleasant happenstance.”

Willow drew her leg up to her chest as the train rumbled along its tracks. The cold bled in through the windows along the back of her neck and the Emperor left his statement to sit between them. How much authenticity could she coax from a man like him? A man who manipulated his lessers for a living.

“What do you see in our future?” she asked quietly, “In my future. Your grace. If you have such grand plans for your people, you must have similar ones for me.”

He continued to stare in front of him at the passing landscape, “Oh yes,” he murmured wistfully. “The grandest. For without you the world in which I envision is nothing but a bitter fantasy,” then he turned to her, hope and something else in his eyes, “Fate or otherwise you are here for a reason. You understand that don’t you?”

She wanted to say yes, to solidify that hope, that glimmer of happiness that flickered in him.

“I’m afraid I do not,” she said but her face folded in sympathy. But sympathy for what, she did not know.

A quiet sigh before he looked out again, “You will soon.”

And then he allowed them to lapse back into silence. Willow fidgeted with her hands on her lap, nervously. Feeling the heaviness of the linkpearl in her pocket and the equal weight of the Emperor’s presence. He had his arm leaned across the back of the seat leisurely, looking quite comfortable despite the ever stoic expression on his face.

Time passed before she realized she had been staring at him, he allowed her to do so for quite a bit before his bright eyes caught hers.

“Come closer, darling, don’t be shy,” he spoke sweetly, ever prominent frown folded into some strange smile.

But it was not shyness which kept her at distance. There was no touch, no kiss, that had ended without a harshness. He was an impossible man to please, and though something in her heart beckoned her closer, wariness kept her at length.

It was difficult to deny him, however. Alone with his company, his hand gently stretched out as if coaxing some small animal to his side. How she wished to flutter to the palm of his hand, to be graced with his affection. Large, looming, prideful predator that he was, making himself smaller for her benefit. Perhaps that apology had been more than words, perhaps it had influenced his actions as well.

And so she placed her smaller palm within his own, his thumb brushing over the top of her gloved hand. Cloth against the cloth the only friction she could derive from the touch and it drove her closer. He leaned back and opened up for her, hand pulling from her own to around her back and it made every hair raise on the back of her neck. 

The train shook along its tracks and at once darted into a cavernous tunnel through the Garlean mountainside. The harsh sun against snow faded to darkness, soft lamplight lining the cavern walls the only bright in the darkness. And so too the eyes of the man beside her. It seemed innocent here. To kiss and touch him where no one could see. In question she reached out her hand to caress his cheek.

He took her hand and gently pulled off her glove before placing it against his jaw again and moving in to kiss her. She kissed back gently at first but then with the same firmness he pressed against her with. A leashed desire, an aching need. Her hand brushed down his neck felt the growl of sound he made as he pushed for more.

She had thought she may be the one to lead, that she might ask and he would answer. But this was a man who took what he wanted and had no respect for how slow or how fast she desired things. His heavy weight leaned down further until her back was flush against the velvet of the seat and he had trapped her.

It made her heart beat faster but it did not make her run. She let him wet his teeth against her lip, listened to how rough his breathing grew as his hands made their way under her shirt.

But the darkness once more gave way to light. And the blaring sun against his sharp face so close to hers, the full feeling of the moment hitting her more clearly. She stilled and he felt it, and his smile widened to something wicked. A cackle of a laugh.

“Do not tease me girl if you cannot face the consequence,” his manic smile made it seem as though he was fully prepared to continue before, slowly, he pulled himself back and sighed. “Unwilling to debase yourself in front of your peers are we? Well, if one may call them that. You share more camaraderie with the serving girls than any of your fellow guards.”

She struggled to right herself as well, taking a moment to lapse into casual conversation after the heat that he had assailed her with. Wiping a thin bead of blood from her mouth she said, “Many of the royal guard are Garlean.”

“True,” he stated, “Not very eager to call you comrade so why should you be bothered yourself?” 

He put his hand lightly to his chin as if in thought and stared back out the window. He was noticeably distanced from her once again and she supposed she should be grateful he was willing to hold himself back. It seemed truly difficult. 

In the quiet cold between them, the sight outside slowly gave way to civilization once again. Patches of trees interlaced with distant houses and then even further a small city. Not nearly as grand in scale as the capitol, but it shouldn’t be surprising that there were other such places the Garlean people called home given the size of the country as a whole.

“And here we are,” he stated, singsong in tone, “One of Garlemald’s oldest theatres, but do not let its age fool you it has had quite a renovation as of late,” and then he winked at her.

It caused her to smile without thinking, as if his jovial and joking nature was infectious.

“Well come on then,” he said, hefting his form to stand as if it were difficult, “Let us not delay.”

She stood at attention behind him, as if trying to fool the remainder of her guard outside that no otherwise unscrupulous behavior had taken place between her and His Radiance. Though it seemed futile, with several pairs of eyes already watching her warily as she came out the station car’s door behind him.

Chapter Text

The snow dusted the brick lined pathways of the small city. The theatre, a centerpiece, among the slightly shorter buildings that surrounded it. And given the crowd that made its way up the steps it was already filled to the brim with patrons. All of them were finely dressed and it was easy to see this place was a favorite among the Garlean nobility. Likely what kept this spot of civilization thriving amid its otherwise rural surroundings.

Soft streetlights reflected across the ornate and glittering crowds. Not the least of which the Emperor himself, who had allowed his guard to surround him if not begrudgingly.

As they made their way up the steps the mass of people parted for him in waves. He seemed to muster some of his well known charisma for the public with an occasional smile before snarling under his breath, “Get me away from this pack of hyenas.”

Once inside the theatre’s great hall they turned through a doorway. One, it seemed, specifically reserved for esteemed guests. And it was, to the Emperor’s great relief, fairly empty. The muted roar of a crowd through the walls the only indication they were not alone completely.

When at last they reached the lift Solus turned to his entourage, “And what are you jesters going to do? I believe my personal guard will more than suffice for so small a room.”

The one Willow recognized as a lieutenant shifted uncomfortably before saying, “I suppose we may post ourselves outside the theatre proper.”

“Good, you do that,” he replied, “And perhaps indulge in a bit of the culture while you’re at it. You may even find it enjoyable,” a mischievous smile before at last the lift doors closed on the both of them and Willow found herself as the Emperor’s personal date.

“And so you have your wish,” she stated, his mood lending to her own mischievous tone.

“As do you,” he smiled wryly and the lift lurched to a stop on one of the higher floors. 

The Emperor’s personal viewing box was far above the rest, and as Willow peered over the balcony the glittering masses seemed almost as a colony of insects. Perhaps that was why his Radiance preferred such a great height, to view them as they were. 

The seats were a fine red velvet. One for His Radiance and one, she assumed, for his Ladywife. She stared at it in reluctance before Solus rolled his eyes.

“Sit, won’t you?” he phrased as a polite demand.

Not long after a serving girl hurried in through the curtain. A bottle of wine in hand. It seemed they knew what he expected upon his attendance. After filling his glass she looked nervously to Willow sitting in the seat of the Empress. Solus only nodded to the girl who nodded back and asked, “And you?” 

Emboldened by the atmosphere she stated, “I could go for a glass.”

“Of course you could,” Solus replied heartily and turned to the servant, “Leave the bottle, won’t you?”

He took it from the girl who nodded wordlessly before pouring Willow a glass and setting it gently in her hand. It was smooth and nearly as fine as the Emperor’s personal stock he had poured for her at dinner some time ago. Solus was smiling at her strangely, so much so she half wondered if he had poisoned it. If all of this was some dramatic game to lure her alone and watch her suffer. As if he somehow knew of the object she kept in her pocket.

She resigned herself to her fate, however, and feeling no ill effects took another sip from the glass. Solus leaned back leisurely and crossed his legs, enjoying his own glass and looking so rarely pleased. 

“Know you the subject of our little performance?” he asked lightly, “You may find it interesting, or even relatable.”

She smiled at him, “I am afraid I’ve had little in the way of freetime as of late. I’ve yet to catch any of Garlemald’s theatre.”

He hummed, “We’ll have to change that won’t we? What cruel taskmaster do you work for that he should not see fit to grant you reprieve?”

“The cruelest,” she replied and he was good natured in his receiving of it. It seemed they were both in abnormally high spirits in each others company.

“One of Garlemald’s oldest folklore, from the time when she was still divided by clan. Each fighting for their own scrap of pitious land. A tale of two lovers divided by their kin and forced to brutal warfare.”

“A love story? How surprising,” Willow mused.

“And why is that?” he replied with what might have been a hint of offense, “Is a man so singularly faceted in nature? I’ll have you know I find romance quite enrapturing. True romance. Nothing so fleeting as a youthful tryst, the kind that sinks to the bone. Soul-deep. The kind that never lets you go.”

She watched the passion in his face, the feeling behind his words and it warmed her, “I must say I agree.”

He nodded once to her, “I thought so.”

Willow found as the performance began and she sat in the Emperor’s company sipping her wine, that she might actually be enjoying herself. A strange concept that festered a small amount of guilt in her chest. Guilt easily snuffed out, however, as the drama rose to its climax and Solus squeezed a hand affectionately on her thigh.

Easy to get lost in the story and its nuances until something like a forgotten thought began to linger in the back of her mind. A feeling not unlike the vision she had seen upon returning to the palace that evening. Like a pathway begging to be followed.

She thought it may be the echo at first, as her vision swam and a thought overtook her. But it was not like the echo at all, for she was not blinded. She could see Solus’ face beside her, the crowd below and the spotlight on the stage. But something else as well. Leering faces, high above. Masked and robed and staring at her expectantly.

A pain shot through her head and down her back, causing her to cry out. Solus watched without intent to help her, a far too unconcerned look in his eyes. She stood and leaned herself over the balcony and the dizzying height below did not stop the vision. A language pounded at her ears that she could not understand, runes like words tumbling through the hovering creatures.

In her pain and fear she could not place the familiarity, though she knew there must be some. And she knew this was without a doubt, the doing of the Emperor.

Her hands gripped hard to the balcony until it hurt and Solus like a snake behind her coiled up her back, pressed his lips to the vulnerable part of her neck. His teeth like a warning just behind her spine.

“What is happening to me,” she spoke in a hush. “Do you know?” he bit down, “And will you tell me?”

A breathless laugh behind her ear, “This is a journey you must take alone I am afraid. But you are so very close.”

The vision faded and at once the crowd below her erupted into applause. His Radiance cared little for showing his own gratitude, pressed up against her back as he was. Hands sliding down her ribs, pulling her further within his own frame by her hips. The fear in her heart turned to desire, so closely tied were the two when she was with him. 

Teeth in the fine soft part of her shoulder. She turned her neck to him like a some prey in submission and his hands made their way back up her sides, slipping into her pocket. Her small hand dove in after him, lacing her fingers with his before his hand cupped the pendant and pulled it out. She let go of him in reluctance as he dangled it in front of her. Head laying over her shoulder.

“What have we here?” and she could hear the wicked smile in his question.

“A family heirloom. A keepsake, from home,” she said with a practiced calm.

What do I say? Should they discover it?

I don’t know, a piece of jewelry from home, a necklace from your mother. What will they care?

Solus hummed beside her and held it higher up to the light. It reflected back like a prism. Unassuming in nature, dangling from a strap of leather. He dropped it from a great height and she watched it shatter on the ground under the feet of thousands of patrons. He looked at her then and she could not conceal the sorrow on her face.

“Best to leave the past where it lies. You have a far brighter future ahead of you, no use for treasures or trinkets of a home before,” then he pulled himself away from her, “Let us leave this place before the crowd, I’ve no desire to get caught within the herd a second time.”

She did not look to him. Stared at the pieces of her only contact left to the Scions and chided her foolishness. So caught up in the lights and affection she had forgotten her purpose. Forgotten what and who she fought for. And now she would pay for it, caught blind in the oncoming storm as sure as the Emperor himself. She turned to him in contempt and his brow raised ever slightly.

“And what is that look for? Your petulant pouting will elicit no sympathy from me,” he stated with his arms crossed.

She took a slow breath through her nose, “And I would expect none.”

“What was that?” he asked, lilted as he approached her.

“I would expect none from His Radiance,” she repeated again and he pouted at her, caressing her cheek with his palm, entwining his fingers in her short navy locks. He gave her a tense smile, no longer playful and good natured. 

“Bark all you like girl, it is quite entertaining,” he pulled at her hair, tipping her head to the side, “But know that my patience is finite,” his head dipped low to her, “Now. Are you keen to continue throwing a fit, or may we leave?”

She saw the warning for what it was and avoided his gaze, “As you wish, your Radiance.”

His hand loosened its grip, drawing a finger affectionately across her cheek before turning to go. And she, with one last mournful look across the balcony, followed.

Chapter Text

On the cold way home she stared out the window. Solus sat just as leisurely as before, seeming to consider her anger with as much unimportance as he did the act that caused it. A man of animated eccentricity and stoic disdain all at once. You never knew which end of him you would receive and she received both quite frequently. 

“Homesick are we?” he asked.

Willow had sat herself across the walkway from him, fully turned to the landscape that flew by the window behind her. And she was homesick. Terribly. Even more so than that a deep anxiety had taken hold of her. At the future and the uncertainty it would bring. 

She left the question unanswered and he made a sound of distaste, “The cold shoulder, how unbearable.”

Silence between them again.

“You must think me unkind. But you should know, nothing I do is without purpose. In regards to you especially,” and that finally earned him his desired attention. She turned back and his sharp eyes focused on her, “You’ve a natural inclination to fight the unknown, to distrust what you consider morally abject. To distrust me. But such feelings are unfounded. For I care a great deal about you.”

Willow snorted and there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes, “Words mean nothing in the face of actions.”

His face folded to a smile, “Then allow me to show you.”

She only turned back out the window. Knowing that to set one foot deeper in this grave was to bury herself. But that feeling still flickered like a burning fire in her chest. A desire to believe his words. That he truly did care for her despite the circumstances.

She heard the creak of the seat as he stood up, felt him looming as he placed himself beside her. Still her eyes stayed fixed on the passing snowstorm outside. The Emperor said nothing as he brushed a lock of hair ghosting across her face. 

Her gaze turned to match his, close to the cold against the window.

“Think about it won’t you?” he whispered, before carrying himself at once back to distance them apart. She respected the gesture and it may indeed have been the first of many nails in her coffin.

He said no more after that, allowing the both of them to make the trek in wistful silence. Nor did he insist his point further upon them separating for the night. Only smiling and offering her a wave, amiable or dismissive she could not tell. 

And though her feet returned to her room for the night. Her mind and perhaps her heart, stayed with him. She had never been safe here, there was no denying that. But now with no way to communicate with the Scions, no way to know when they planned to make their move and if she would be caught in the crossfire. She was far less safe than she had ever been.

Yet Solus desired to protect her. In his own strange and disagreeable way she felt he did not wish to see her harm. At least not harm that wasn’t by his own hand. But even that was fleeting and strange. As if some force, some memory from worlds away, took hold of his mind. There was a part of her that realized her thoughts, that recognized what living among a people and by the side of a dictator might have done to her. A kind of empathy and understanding she may have never afforded him were she still in Eorzea.

She sat on her bed, legs crossed, hands in her lap. Ruminating until deeper into the night. Ruminating until the decision was made for her.

No light to guide her this time and yet she knew the way. He would be in his personal room at this hour. Alone, perhaps even asleep. She did not even bother slipping her boots on. Possessed by some force deep within her chest to find him. To hold him in her arms.

If she was his as he said then was he hers as well? Did she hold the heart of the Emperor in her hands? Enough that she could yet change him? The thought was as frightening as it was exciting and when at last she found herself at his door her heart was beating twice as fast as it ought to have been.

She did not knock. It did not seem appropriate. He was expecting her after all. So she only opened the door and saw him sitting leisurely upon the bed. One leg drawn into himself, a book and various documents scattered about his person. He had shed all the layers of his earlier ensemble, leaving him only in a thick, collared undershirt. It clung tightly to his frame and she found herself imagining what it would be like to undress him. His brow was furrowed as if he had been in deep concentration but doubtless the sound of the creaking door did not go beyond his notice.

He did not look up when he spoke to her, “And who could it be at such an hour other than my ever loyal, ever curious personal guard,” his bright eyes caught hers, “Willow, my darling girl, I can only hope you gave some thought to my words and are here to beg gravest forgiveness.”

The Warrior of Light in her that reared its head so often in their conversations took hold of her mouth, “If you are hoping for groveling I am afraid you will be sorely disappointed.”

“Oh will I?” that eccentric spark in him like a fire come to life, “I am quite satisfied with this outcome already, I hardly think you could disappoint.”

A soft smile creased his eyes and she could almost believe the entire display was genuine. He folded the book in front of him, stacking the papers with the neat efficiency of someone very used to paperwork. Languidly he carried it to his desk before finding his way to her, still standing lost in the doorway. He shifted her forward to shut the door behind them and ensure absolute privacy.

His forearm still leaned against the the doorframe, sufficiently crowding her. She felt those amber eyes roaming her face, her body. A silence that beckoned her to speak but she did not, for the reality of the situation was compounding in her chest and making her head ache.

“Did you not imagine you would get this far?” he asked playfully and his hand finally touched her, fingers against cheek. “There is still time to run girl, if you truly find my company so abhorrent.”

“No,” she said quickly and finally looked at him, “I am here because I want to be.”

“ Oh , you know just the words to warm my wretched heart,” his hand ran gently through her hair. He stared at it like an object to be admired, fascinated by each strand as it fell from his fingers. “But you seem quite nervous. I hope I do not offend when I ask,” he took a breath and smiled at her again though it was more smug in nature this time, “Have you done this before?”

“Once,” camel from her mouth in honesty.

He hummed, “And I don’t imagine it was much of anything to behold.”

It hadn’t been.

“Well,” he said as if he was taking on some great burden, “That explains somewhat of your hesitation. For whatever it’s worth.”

And she realized now how truly upset he had been for all her refusing. That this reason, her inexperience, was pleasing to him. She wondered how long he would’ve allowed her to continue denying him.

“You’ve nothing to worry about,” he said, trying his best to be soft and gentle. With sharp teeth and wicked smile it was almost difficult to take him at his word. “I will lead. You need only relax and enjoy yourself,” his brow furrowed in some kind of sympathy and it almost completed his look of innocence, “You just tell me what feels good and I will do my best to give it to you.”

The words pulled out the breath she had been holding and his hand rubbed down her shoulder when he saw her noticeably relax, “There,” he said and smiled.

He was keeping it leashed. His mania, his wildness. So close to her skin he was usually a slathering animal, fighting tooth and nail to keep a hold on her. But he was managing to stay quiet, to attend to her comfort if only to keep her in his bed. Another gesture that meant something to her, and another nail in her coffin.

“You said once it was my soul you found beautiful,” she spoke, “Does that still hold true?”

“Of course,” he replied as if it was obvious. “But you saw it yourself, did you not find the sight beautiful?”

“I suppose I did, I had never seen such a thing before.” And yet he had known the whole time. “You won’t tell me will you?”

“Tell you what my dear?”

“Anything.”

It pulled his mouth to a sharp smile, a barely contained laugh, “Now where is the fun in that?”

There was no doubt in her mind that this had ever been a game to him. She raised a brow, expression soft as she looked at him, “I cannot help but feel I am walking into the mouth of a lion.”

Solus’ smile widened, “You are. But you knew that already didn’t you? You are no fool. Naive yes but never stupid. No, not you,” he was speaking the words softly, staring into her eyes with such ferocity, “You know what you want and you take it.”

Her brow stayed furrowed, “Sometimes you speak as though you have known me my entire life.”

A simple answer, “I know you better than you know yourself.”

The fluttering fear in her heart edged her closer to him, “Show me.”

The Emperor needed no more encouragement to fit his mouth on hers, to drink in her scent, wrap his hands hard around her small body. In the jaws of a beartrap she herself had set, with no way to pry herself out even if she wished it. Her final means of escape there is still time to run, girl but no longer. 

He had promised to please her, to lead, to be gentle. But she felt the threads of his control come undone, snap one at a time as his nails dug in. She heard him breathe roughly and she tried desperately to keep up. But she was far less experienced and he loved her like a starving animal. His arms dragged her close, took her to the bed and bent her down.

She felt his palm press down between her back and demanded, “Slower.”

He stopped, “Of course, of course,” he said as if pulled from a lust driven fugue state.

His hands turned her gently and allowed her to reposition herself to look at him though it did not offer any comfort. As though looking a predator in the eyes as they climbed on top of you.

“Here, allow me,” he said and she could hear him forcing himself to catch his breath.

He had her where he wanted her and it seemed he realized there was no reason to rush. And carefully he pulled her wool leggings past her thighs, until the first of many layers was shed. She was beginning to feel the inevitability of the moment, the cold air prickling against her skin. He took off the rest and put his mouth to her thigh. She tried her best to calm her heart as the warmth of his kiss traveled up her. 

It was slow now, deliberate. As if he was recalling the steps of a dance he’d long since done. His hands gripped her hips, pulled her further against him and tentatively she reached out. Placed a small hand over his own. He accepted it graciously, laced his fingers with hers and it somehow made it easier. To know how badly he wanted her touch, as much as he desired to touch her.

He brought her to a pleasure she had never experienced before, and the sound that it pulled from her mouth surprised her. Fingers tightening between his. There was little time for her to catch her breath, however, his large body framing her own once again. Mouth on mouth, crushed against the softness of the bed. Practiced hands slipped under her back, moving her where he wanted and she had no choice but to follow.

She tried to offer the same fervor he gave her, opening her mouth to his teeth, gripping her hands at his shoulders. But he scarcely knew she was there, a desire to fulfill his own pleasure once again overwhelming his mind. It was animalistic in its execution. Needy and hurried.

But the flame at her heart burned with his body so close. An echoing desire to feel him in her own mind. He took a hand to work on the belt that still fastened his outfit together but she slipped her hands underneath his woolen shirt and it stood him to rapt attention. He abandoned the belt altogether, leaning back from her to slip the shirt off entirely and now it became too real. His bare skin against her, making her own shiver in anticipation.

 As her hands were caught in the air, not knowing how to grab him once again he growled, “Do not make me beg,” against her ear.

It was enough to dig her nails into his flesh and hear the sound he could not trap behind his throat. As if she had just released him, freed him from some long torment. Hand at the belt again and he was working quickly, pulling her to him before she felt him entirely.

His hands drew up her wrists, pressed down hard and she was trapped like a vice. Staring at the canopy above his velvet bed. The most powerful man on the continent, perhaps the world if he had his way, loomed over her. Ruthless even in the way he loved. As if he was cursed, tormented by something she could not see and her body the only way to free it. His mouth closed on her neck and his teeth hurt. She let a breath out, a sound that he did not hear. All of his skin against hers, legs around his back. 

 He spoke breathlessly, and she thought her mind addled by fear and desire may have misheard. Jumbled up words and letters until they were nonsense. But she replayed it in her mind as he relaxed against her. A language she had never heard spoken before, not even among the Garleans. And released in such a rush of sound, low and growling.

When he pulled back he was panting harshly but he would not look her in the eyes. Coming down from a high he had so long chased. Her own pleasure still sat pleasantly in her mind but she dare not ask him again as he still sat atop her. Not while he looked like this. Dangerous, still, like an animal about to bite.

She had thought him contented, as though she would finally be enough. Satisfy what he had craved with his hands on her for so long. But this was a man on edge. 

Would he punish her? For disappointing him so?

But then she saw the look in his eyes. The distance ever reaching past the walls of the palace, out further still. Though not void of feeling. Filled with it, drowning in it. And when his gaze turned to her he was someone different. Soft. Mournful. And she could not find the words to ask why he hurt. To ask why it made her throat feel raw on the verge of tears. So she only reached out to hold his hand, tried to convey with her own expression her empathy, her warmth.

 Her thumb brushed atop his palm and it drew a soft, “ Oh,” from his breath, “You sweet thing.” Then she watched him draw himself inside once again, brush aside whatever foreign sentimentality she had seen on his expression. And finally pull back to free her from under his weight. 

It was strange to see him so bare in the dim light, casting shadows on all the features of his body. Imposing even without all his ceremonial armor, even without a gunblade in his hand. But she knew that already, she had felt it in his touch. Let all that power hold her down. Slowly she too sat up, though her heart was still racing, skin still humming with his touch. 

The silence between them ground at her nerves, even after his soft words she did not know where his mood would take him. But he only smiled.

“You will stay here for the night,” phrased only as a statement.

“I would like that,” she replied because it was true.

There was a strangeness here but also a safety, and the comfort of his bed far outweighed her own.

The smile on his face turned wry, mischievous, “You are my girl,” he said simply, “My girl, my love. Never forget that.”

Chapter Text

Her sleep was fitful. The foreign words the Emperor had spoken hushed into her ear rolling through her head faster than she could catch them. An overwhelming feeling of danger chasing at her heels and more so than that some kind of deep unfathomable grief. 

She awoke to the boil of adrenaline in her blood. Heart racing, every muscle tense, poised to run while still buried under the plush comforter of the Empire’s royalty. Beside her slept the Emperor and she could hardly believe such a thing was possible. That he was subject to the whims of sleep as much as anyone else, when he seemed to her as something from another world. 

When she turned his back was facing her, and he was close enough that she could feel his warmth. She was thankful he was clothed once again but it didn’t do much to stop the raging tempest in her heart. And the knowledge that he would offer her no comfort, nor any escape. She watched his back, his slow breathing, and told herself she had to get out. Free herself of these nightmares and of this living terror.

But it was not so easy. Not when her legs felt incapable of holding her up, not when her body felt on fire. Carefully she pulled back the covers and set her feet on the floor. And as she did the feeling of it all overwhelmed her. The fear that she had been holding at bay in her past year of serving, the sadness of a war still to come, the anger at how the Empire treated its lessers. At how the Emperor himself treated her.

Willow pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle the crying, the breath she tried to lock in her chest. She could not cease it and her heart raced faster at the thought of the Emperor’s waking. At any explanation she could give short of the truth.

She felt him before anything else. A solid hand on her back, bent down beside her small form. He said nothing, only stayed there as if he was observing her. And she could not bring herself to meet his gaze, only staring hard at the floor, trying desperately to reign back her control. Then he stood and she heard the rustling of wood as he kneeled by the fireplace, flickering the light of fire into the room.

He returned to her, put the hand on her back again, “Come.”

She obeyed. Swallowing the thought of how grateful she was for his control, when she felt so little of her own.

There were two armchairs by the wide hearth of his room, but she had a hard time imagining that he and his wife ever enjoyed such a thing together. He set her in one and she leaned herself into the warmth of the fire before he left her once again. Several clinking sounds before he reappeared and handed her a glass. She recognized the smell of brandy and shook her head at him.

“Suit yourself,” he said, and sat at the chair beside her.

It was a realization she had in this moment. Watching him build the fire, lean himself back, take a drink. The habitual comfort of it. He was offering her what he would want. He was doing what he would do for himself. He had been here before, and he had drowned it. He knew what she felt.

Her brow furrowed as she stared at him and he at the fire. The warmth and his presence was beginning to ground her, though she was not sure he cared to be thanked.

They sat in silence for a moment before his voice low asked, “Have I offended you in some way?”

“What?” she asked surprised and looked at him. He held the brandy up in his hand, elbow leaned against the armrest. He did not look angry, only curious. “No, not at all. I just had a dream. And not a very pleasant one.” Only half of a truth.

He hummed as if considering it. And she wondered if he thought she was crying because of him. If he had been too rough with her, too forceful. It struck her as odd that he would consider such things now, after trying to tear her apart. But it was true to his nature. There was a rare gentleness in him but it was hard to find. It was buried underneath a vicious exterior, and sometimes he would remember it existed. Sometimes he would recall what empathy was like.

“Tell me of this dream,” he said.

She relaxed a bit, pulled her legs down to the ground and sighed softly, “I cannot recall exactly the events of the dream. It was more, the feeling it left me with.”

“Curious,” he murmured as if it meant something to him. “And how did it feel?”

She smiled to ease the awkwardness of her answer, “I think you very well saw how it felt.”

“Tell me,” he said and the look he gave her was one of hesitation. As if he did not desire to hear the answer anymore than she desired to give it.

Willow frowned.

“As though I had woken up somewhere else and could not remember my name. Some terrifying bout of amnesia, afraid because I knew no one and nothing,” she stared ahead of her before looking at his face, fire casting shadows across it, “I was so scared. And I cannot say why.”

There was a flicker of frustration that crossed his features, brow furrowing and then relaxing before he said, “Do these dreams come to you often?”

“It is a rather recent occurrence.”

A clink as he set down the glass and raised himself from the chair. He stood in front of her, backlit by the flickering flames. A hand reached under her chin and tipped it up to match his gaze, hand close enough to feel the pulse at her neck. She bore her gaze into his, wondering if he were searching for weakness. Wondering if he were searching for anything at all. He was quiet as he did it, mouth in a firm line and eyes heavy and disapproving. Then he let her go, looked forward and placed the same hand affectionately on her head.

“You should return to bed. I am sure such dreams will not plague you again.”

Her head turned to watch him as he walked back himself. The confidence and certainty with which he spoke made her want to believe his words. It was an asinine thought to have, to say she felt safe in his presence. To say his overwhelming wolfish nature would calm anyone in a fit of fear. And yet that is what she felt in her heart, when before it had beat so fiercely, now she only felt tired.

She pulled herself from the chair, carefully sitting beside him on the bed. He had paused a moment. Sitting at the edge and staring ahead at the wall. This night had brought a strange calm to him, the same dark sadness that she had seen earlier. 

She bound the comforter up in her hands, shifting it over her lap, “Forgive me for asking but, have you ever had dreams such as these?”

He turned to her with a quiet, tired smile, “Every night.”

Her brow furrowed in horror at the thought. At how long it took to become unbothered with dreams such as hers, “Why? What causes such dreams? This place, these people?”

A hint of the mania she knew well returned to his eyes, “It is us,” he said and then a smile that made her uncomfortable, “Our fate, our eternal suffering. Though, yours is just beginning I am afraid.”

As if it were some curse he had put inside her, some door long locked he had broken open. Her mind was reeling at what any of it meant. He must have seen the horror on her face but he did nothing to quell it.

He was more than the Emperor, of that she was certain, but just how much more. He was Garlean in body but he did not hold the same distrust of magic as they. In fact his relationship with magic bordered on obsessive fascination. And that language he had spoken told her his homeland was somewhere else. But he had seemed so calm speaking of his childhood on the train. Had he lied to her then?

She could not confront him about it. Were he not to get mad at her outright he would simply refuse her questions. He had made it very clear he would offer no answers, as if their entire relationship was a test. 

“Does something keep you from telling me?” she asked.

He looked at her as if he was considering it and then said, “Hope.”

“Hope?”

“Yes. Bitter thing that it is,” he sighed as if it were tiring to him, “It would seem no amount of suffering can kill it. Though I have tried.”

The words elicited sympathy in her though she was not sure what she could say in return when she hardly knew what he meant. Then he stretched, comically like a cat, falling back into the aloof manner she recognized before laying himself down. He stared atop the canopy for a moment before his eyes flickered to her.

She had fallen asleep apart from him before, too afraid to touch him. And he had sought no touch of hers either. It was too soft a thought for someone as sharp as he. But he seemed soft now, worn down by their speaking and by a distant sadness. And she might even say they could both do with the comfort.

Slowly she put her hand on his chest, moved her way into his space before she had fit herself beside him. He stayed perfectly still as she did it as if to move might frighten her away. Then his arm quietly pulled around her back and his lips kissed the top of her head. 

Safety, but not really. For when the sun rose he would be the Emperor once again, and she would be the Warrior of Light. Hidden deep within the bowels of the palace with no hope of escape.

The morning brought with it a keen reminder of her place. The man beside her had already woken for the day and had little time for the affection he had allowed her the night before. He stood in the washroom, entirely dressed and fit to leave.

She rubbed a palm across her face sleepily, “Shall you like me at your meeting this morning?”

“No, you will stay here,” he answered as if it were obvious.

That drew her to attention, “Why?”

He peered at her through the doorway, “Why not? Do my quarters displease you so?”

Her brow furrowed, “Not at all, but I hope our conversation the night prior has not made you think me incapable.”

A rough laugh came from him and it surprised her, “Such pride, girl, is that what you are concerned about? Fret not, we are all allowed a moment of weakness now and again. No, this is in fact a rare act of kindness. You would do well to take it,” still she looked at him in scrutiny, “I only thought you could do with some time to yourself? Hm?”

She relaxed a bit at his easygoing manner. An instinct to distrust him in her mind, but lured easily by his gentleness the night before.

“That is indeed kind of you, your Radiance.”

He clicked his tongue, “None of that.”

“Solus?”

His eyes flashed to her, “‘Twill do for now, I suppose.”

Then he came to the bedside, pressed a palm against her hair and kissed her cheek. 

“I am off then, wish me luck with the pomp and pageantry that a meeting with my fellows is sure to provide,” he said brightly before making for the door.

She had little time to reply before it latched closed, and with hesitation she sank back into the comfort of his bed. 

It seemed the events from the night before had wearied her more than she realized because she easily lapsed back into the throes of sleep once again. She was unaware of how much time had passed before the latch of a door awoke her once more. But to her horror it was not the Emperor returned from a meeting who greeted her but rather Julia, looking struck by the sight with a single tray in her hands.

There was a look of panic on her face, “Willow are you alright?” she asked.

She’d thought her a victim of the Emperor’s guiles. Lured to his bedside without choice. And true, he had manipulated her to a point. He had held her hard, terrified her with his presence. But it was her own feet that had taken her to his bedside that night. Though the feeling that had done it was unexplainable and perhaps some fault did lie with him still. She could not claim it entirely. Her guilty look did not seem to ease Julia however.

“Can you leave?” she asked.

“I can,” Willow replied. “He has given me more freedom than I would like to admit. That is to say, I am not entirely a victim.”

Julia gave her a look of scrutiny, “But…why?”

“I do not know,” the girl answered honestly.

“You are in far greater danger than you realize,” she began, turning behind her as if at any moment someone may see, “Are you even aware of the reason for the Empress’ leave?”

Willow returned her look of scrutiny, “No. He would not disclose it to me. Though he said I was not the reason.”

A scoff, and at her or the Emperor she did not know, “The Empress is with child.”

Willow straightened to attention, heart racing as the night before, “You are certain?”

“I am,” Julia nodded, “Though no formal announcement has been made she could not help but share it with her closest handmaiden. And they in turn with us,” she sighed, “You know how these things get around.”

A hand went to her mouth unbidden and at once she wanted to admit everything. That she was an Eorzean spy, that she had begun feeling a strange pull to the Emperor since arriving here, that he spoke a different language and acted as foreign as she. But what good would any of it do, likely further entrench her into an undeniably dangerous situation.

So she only looked away and whispered, “I am sorry Julia, I have no excuse.”

“It is not me you should apologize to,” she said simply but the fire seemed to rise and die from her, “I will not place sole blame at your feet. How could I? The Emperor is a man who would get what he wanted regardless, we both know that. But,” she shook her head, “I must admit some disappointment that you made it easy for him.”

Willow would not match her eyes.

Julia was quiet for a long time, “Your secret is safe with me. I promise you.”

A mournful nod is all Willow gave in return, “I appreciate that. I will make this right.”

She finally set the tray she was holding own on the side table, “We both know why I was called here. He’s playing a game with you.”

Another silence at her brief naivety, “I know.”

Julia stared at her once before leaving, “Do not let him win.”

Chapter Text

 Willow stared at the plate of pastries Julia had left on her way out, finding herself without any appetite. That he had requested her personally to come to his room was still a baffling thought to consider. As if he sought to ostracize her from anyone else she may call friend in the palace. And such friends were already so few and far between. Did he hope to be hers and hers alone? Think that he may somehow covet her in her own loneliness while he still called the Empress his wife?

It simmered anger in her but such rage was pointless. He was far better at the game than she was and to bite and thrash and throw a tantrum would only serve to entertain him. She stared blankly ahead in furious thought before she managed to calm herself down. Solus would return soon and he had all but ordered her to reside in his quarters for the day.

And as long as she was here she may as well take advantage of it. Perhaps a long and relaxing dip in his grand bath would soothe her nerves. Their grand bath. The Empress. She pushed the thought from her head quickly, instead focusing on turning the dial to send hot running water from the faucet. That Solus should be so lucky. Running water was a luxury only those in the major cities of Eorzea could enjoy and even then it was hardly affordable. 

She watched the steaming water as it filled the tub to the top, taking stock of the luxurious palette of grooming supplies aligning the counters. She would say most belonged to the Empress but knowing what she knew about Solus it was likely an even split. After taking what she wanted from the bunch she eased herself into the bath’s warmth. Trying her best to forget the whirlwind the Emperor had set about in her head. 

What did he desire? And a better question, what did she? Rationally she knew the answer, but to tell that to her heart..

Time enough passed that she soon found herself clean and smelling of rose petals with nowhere to go. Wandering about the Emperor’s room aimlessly. To be inside his personal quarters as an Eorzean spy was a veritable dream, and Thancred would surely chide her if she did not take advantage of it. 

But there was hardly anything to be found, nothing but personal effects and letters from friends and family. Though, that in itself was somewhat surprising. An old and folded note from what appeared to be Solus’ late parents tucked far back in the corner of his desk drawer. And it was not hard to imagine that such a thing was important to him, kept so neat as it was. Perhaps he cared more than he let on.

She soon tired of snooping and took to staring out the window, watching what used to be her fellow guardsmen change rank out in the fields, and nobility come and go from the palace grounds. That is until she heard the heavy footsteps of a man outside her door. She steeled herself for a coming conflict as the Emperor himself came sauntering inside.

He was staring at the plate untouched by the door, “Not hungry?” and then he caught her darkened gaze, “Oh dear such an ugly face, I hope it is not for me.”

“We must speak,” she said flatly.

He raised a brow, silent a moment before saying, “Well? Speak. ”

“You had Julia sent to your room, so that you may what? Shame me?”

“Why it was only a kindness,” he shrugged, “She is your friend is she not? Do you keep things from your friends?”

“It was manipulative and yet I know not what you expected to accomplish. It did not work. She has not abandoned me as you might have foreseen and now I am considering-”

“What? What is it you consider?” he asked, drawn out lazily but dangerous all the same.

“That this cannot continue, this game that you play with me. Neither of us will be a part of it.”

“Conspiring?” he replied giddily, “I would have you drawn and quartered for treachery if I did not like you so much.”

It occurred to her that he did not hold that same affection for Julia. He read her mind immediately as he so often did, crossing the distance and putting his hand at her chin.

“Do not worry, I’ve hardly the energy to demand the arrest of a palace maid .”

She turned her head to pull from his grasp, “That is not the only reason I am cross.”

“There is more?” he said with the same giddy excitement and it served to make her feel small.

She stood straighter as if to physically leverage the conversation in her direction, but even at an easy stand Solus was much taller.

“The Empress,” she began, not breaking his gaze, “She is with child.”

“My wife is quite the gossip hm? I should have expected as much,” he crossed his arms, looking as though he could not be more at ease, “‘Tis all she wanted you know. A royal babe in her womb. But I daresay you know more than most the duties that are required of me, that should hardly change because of your presence alone.”

He had seemed lackadaisical at best when it came to the duties required of him before, but she did not say as such, “That changes things, you know it does,” and then she shook her head, “You have sired her child Solus, does that mean nothing to you?”

His expression darkened, straightening to his full height, “The woman is a means to an end nothing more,” his dark eyes bore a hole through her, “Make no mistake, she considers me the same.”

“I do not believe that is true,” she said, refusing to shrink under his presence.

A quiet rage brought to the surface as he stared at her disbelieving, “And just what do you believe? You know less than nothing and I will hear no argument from the ignorant and naive.”

At that she straightened with him, as if she too could make herself larger and more menacing despite the fruitlessness of the endeavor, “Displeased when I am quiet and yet doubly so when I show my teeth.”

That smothered the flames in him immediately, rage replaced with a potent curiosity. He hummed in thought, put his thumb on her lip as she stilled, pressed until he felt her fangs, “True,” a pause, “And what sharp teeth they are.”

She let him do as he pleased, gently letting his hand fall from her lip as he leaned back to cross his arms. She looked at him at a loss, “So what are we to do about this?”

“What is to be done?” he replied easily, “Shall I gut the babe in infancy?”

She could not hide the way her expression shifted at the callousness of his words.

Solus smiled at the sight, “No. I think it is done and you shall let it be so.”

He said it with such finality that it was obvious he intended for this to end the conversation. For her to let the subject lie and be content with what he had given her. It was also obvious on her face she was displeased with the situation and still too close Solus made a comical pouting face in her direction before righting his expression again.

“I mean what I said. She holds far less worth to me than you.”

The statement was meant to ease her concerns but it mostly just made her sad. Made her unable to look him in the eyes or ask why that was so.  

“When will she return,” she asked while avoiding his gaze.

Solus hummed, “Several weeks time I imagine. Enough for her to believe the warmth and humidity of a tropical climate has somehow blessed the health of her unborn child,” he smiled mirthlessly in her direction, “So much technology and yet still they insist on folklore and the tales of old wives. I would find it charming if not quite so frustrating.”

She felt his hand grasp her jaw gently, “Do not look so down. She will be back soon enough and things may be back to the way they were. Sneaking around to my private room at night, how bracing. You must miss it.” Willow furrowed her brow in his direction but as always he was unaffected. Staring at her with a fathomless expression looking as if he might mean to eat her.

“Apologize,” she stated, looking at him boldly.

“What?” he sputtered while dropping his hand from her. But it was clear he enjoyed the taunting.

“You have been hiding things from me, always ahead of me at every turn. If this is to continue I want to be on even ground,” not exactly what she was hoping to say. She told herself it was because of the dangers that came with denying the Emperor, but perhaps it was more than that.

“Oh of course you do!” he said sounding enthralled with the proposition, “Very well,” he stepped back from her and gave a dramatic bow, “I am sorry. For not including you in my machinations and otherwise dastardly doings. Rest assured you will have my full honesty from this point forward,” then he smiled with teeth and it was not the least bit reassuring.

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms.

“She is pleased?” he asked still with his crocodile smile.

“Mildly so.”

And this caused him to bark a laugh. But it was so genuine it threatened to pull a smile at her lips. Something about the interaction familiar and friendly. He caught it immediately, in tune to every shift of her expression and stole her in a kiss. She did not resist, feeling the full brunt of his affection heaved atop her. Passionate but still a starving animal. 

He was happy with the outcome, and that would keep her safe for a time. But time was a thing she was ever running out of. Eorzea would come for the Emperor and his country, and she had no way of knowing when.

The ever present snowy banks of Garlemald had begun to give way to the country’s mild spring. Though it much resembled autumn to Willow, an ever present brown to the forests whose trees seemed ever on the verge of death. 

She had spent as much time as she could in her own quarters, pretending that the Emperor was not ever requesting her presence alone with him. And though she would feel better about herself to deny it, she desired to spend time with him just as much.

Such requests are what brought her here, trudging through the open fields of Garlemald on horseback. A primitive and fairly used form of transportation Solus had made sure to say, but nonetheless a tradition they had refused to get rid of. In front of her a thick black steed, lightly feathered and wide boned. The Emperor claimed him as his mount, the cloak on his person billowing behind and dusting the hindquarters of his steed. 

She of course was on something slightly smaller but no less powerful. Horses bred for winter and warfare with an unshaking temperament to match. 

He had let her enjoy the ride in silence, likely because he preferred the same, and they rode staggered behind one another. Surrounded by bird song and the cold spring breeze until at last he slowed near a forest clearing. His head turned to her, hair tossed from the ride over. Underneath his horse shifted impatiently.

“We will go at a walk. Take note of the surroundings, ruffled foliage, signs of a kill, that sort of thing,” he explained shortly.

“You’ve not yet said what we’re hunting,” she replied.

He smiled widely at that, “Why, deadly creatures of course, what other sport is there?”

“Indeed?” she said in surprise, “I had expected his Radiance prefer easy prey,” a jest that seemed to come easier in his presence as of late.

A laugh rumbled from him, “My cabinet would quite enjoy that. I believe they may fear for my life every time I take to hunt, but their concern is unfounded. I am in no danger.”

Willow took a moment to survey their surroundings, breathing in the crispness of the air before Solus continued, “Besides it is good to cull the wildlife around here. It does not get done nearly enough for the amount of rural townships within Garlemald’s borders.”

Her brow raised again but he was no longer watching her. The concern for his people spoken so casually took her by surprise, and perhaps he did not even realize how much that concern showed through. His heels tapped lightly to the beast beneath him and it began to amble forward, Willow followed dutifully behind as the leaves crunched under heavy hooves.

He weaved the animal through the woods with an expert touch and soon they were encased in a towering grove of pine. The sounds of wildlife had grown to a standstill and in front of her so had Solus. He hummed in thought before waving her up by his side.

“Do you see that?” he asked in a whisper, his voice much lower than its usual tone. 

Willow followed his gaze and answered, “The scattered bed of pine. Such a large creature.”

“Precisely the kind we are looking for,” he replied in the same hushed voice, urging his mount forward again. 

Solus seemed to have no trouble finding its path while she struggled to study the broken limbs or torn bark he himself seemed to be seeing. She was a bit ashamed that her skills as a hunter from the Moon Clan had lapsed so spectacularly. 

Eventually the forest thinned into rocky inclines and a noticeable crag covered with brush stood in front of them.

“It’s lair,” Solus announced, almost proudly, “Likely resting for the day, ‘twill be easy to catch it unawares.”

He slid from his saddle in a dismount and then did something that surprised her, as was his pattern for the day. From a hanging pouch on the side of his saddle he pulled out a long, thin blade. It shimmered an obsidian black in the daylight, a dark metal she had no name for. Willow said nothing as he pulled off his cloak and strapped the sword to his back, then continued onto the other side of his mount to pull out another weapon. From across his horse he tossed it to her and she made a sound of surprise as she caught it.

A beautiful staff, the same color of his own but with delicate leaves and petals woven about its cane. She stared at it in appreciation of its beauty.

“You may think you handle a gunblade with ease but your form is actually quite poor,” he said, which did beg the question as to why she was hired in the first place but her mouth stayed shut. “I should like you to be a capable partner once the hunt begins.”

“Well I suppose I should be flattered you think me capable at all,” she said to which he let out a single laugh. She stared at the cane in her hands before continuing, “You had this made for me?”

He finally made his way around his horse to answer her, “Oh no, no, no, can’t have my subordinates thinking I am favoring my guard now can we? That particular piece was made with mine own hand. Do be careful with it won’t you?”

“A talented artificer? Another mystery to add to the great Emperor Solus,” she smiled and he bowed in passing.

“And there are so many yet to come,” he replied dramatically, “Now, let us begin.”

 She followed behind him, staring at the long blade between his shoulders and trying to puzzle out exactly what it meant to fight with it in place of a gunblade. He complained so often of his peoples’ adversity to technology and yet he would choose what Garlemald considered to be a lesser, primitive weapon. 

Solus leaned himself at the edge of the den, light wind tousling his hair forward before his amber eyes flickered back to her. 

“I will pull it out of hiding,” he whispered, “I trust you will keep me alive?”

She smiled coyly, “I will do my best your Radiance.”

“Your best?” he returned in disbelief, though he was smiling as well, “Let us hope that is enough.”

And then he whistled sharply into the mouth of the lair. At first nothing happened, but Willow noticed Solus slide out the long blade at his back as if in preparation. Then after but a moment the sound of thundering footsteps. And at last the creature burst through. Large indeed, with terrible teeth. A roar that shook the forest surrounding them and the Emperor wasted no time in corralling it to his attention.

It was hard to believe he had spent his past few years in a throne waging war from the sidelines with how expertly he wielded a blade. His movement was difficult to keep up with, shifting weight from one side to the other, easily avoiding the creature's large swiping claws. Not one to be outdone Willow slung her spells from behind, singing the creature enough to get its attention. But whenever it turned it was quickly punished by Solus. Blade sinking into flesh before he spun just out of reach. 

The confusing dance of their moves seemed to work perfectly in taking it down. He need only look at her to tell her where she was needed and once they had the upper hand he wasted no time in cleaving it straight through the heart. With a pained cry the creature fell to the ground, still in the muddy grass under their feet. Blood poured from its mouth and Solus from its side seemed pleased by the sight. At least far more pleased than Willow was with the sight of any creature's death.

But he was panting hard, the only thing that perhaps showed his lack of fitness.

“Are you alright?” she asked, somewhat entertained by the sight of him worn down. A thin sheen of sweat that stuck his hair to his brow.

He answered with a breathless laugh that went on for a bit longer than it should have, “Far better than alright, I assure you.”

This close she could see the cost of his only mistake in the prior battle, a gouging claw mark just across his shoulder. It left a hole through the layers of his clothing and she could see the deep scarlet that soaked cloth, “It got you quite good,” she said while motioning to it.

“Well my dear, that is what you are here for,” he reached down to pull the torn fabric from the wound without so much as a wince. Leaning down slightly so as to make it easy for her, “Go on then, no need to be shy.”

Without hesitation she set her hand lightly to his shoulder, warmth of aether filling her palm. It felt good to heal again. Something to bring normalcy to her otherwise chaotic identity as of late. Healing made sense to her, healing was natural. Beneath her palm she could feel the Emperor relax, though she was not entirely sure it was due to the white magic. He had not seemed to be in a terrible amount of pain but he did seem to greatly enjoy her touch.

When at last the wound was healed and she tried to pull away he put his hand over hers, suitably stopping her. She looked at him in curiosity and he only smiled warmly before letting go.

He straightened to his full height, savoring their work in the form of a wild beast carcass. 

Despite her better judgement she spoke the words on her mind, “We make a good team.”

He looked to her excitedly, “Do you think so?” he asked as if he were delighted by her words, “I would say I rather agree.”

She stared at the blood that now soaked the ground, a kind of ringing beginning in her ears. Her eyes closed to it, overcome by the same feeling of the not quite echo at the opera. 

“Are you well?” Solus asked behind her. It was a struggle for him to phrase the question as if he were truly concerned. It mostly came out disinterested.

“Just an odd feeling,” she admitted, hand coming up to her temple as she opened her eyes, “As if I had experienced this before.”

When Solus approached her there was a hungry look in his eyes, fiery and entranced, “Tell me.”

Willow shrugged, “I do not know how to describe it, only that it overwhelms my senses, brings me pain.”

“It is painful?”

“A bit yes.”

At this Solus leaned down to get a better look at her. Turning his head as if in observation and she could only watch with a brow furrowed in question. He put a hand to his chin in thought, “You seem well enough by my eye. But we will just have to see how it progresses.”

“You seem to have an idea of what it is,” she stated as if they did not both know the truth.

He shrugged as he began to walk past her, “The soul is a fickle, fragile thing. Oftentimes we’ve no knowledge of what causes such bizarre feelings to occur.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Who is to say?”

“How reassuring,” she muttered and he gave a low laugh.

She had a mind to agree with his assessment. For whatever reason Solus seemed truly fascinated with the workings of the soul. Having designated a part of his scientists to the study of it specifically. If Garleans did not share an aetherial system with the rest of the world they did share a soul, and perhaps his fascination with it came from his secret obsession with magic itself.

Once returned to their horses Solus made quick work of returning their weapons, with a promise that they would find use again soon. And then he mounted his steed and made off on the long trek to the palace grounds. Winds beginning to grow colder as the sun darkened behind clouds.

Willow followed, enjoying the freedom of racing across the fields behind him before he slowed to a stop. Standing and gazing off into the distance. She stopped beside him.

The horses seemed to stand at attention as well, as if the three of them were aware of something she could not perceive. 

“What is the matter,” she asked warily, a distant Eorzea suddenly at the forefront of her mind.

“Nothing,” he said simply, “Simply another wild beast.”

“How can you be so sure?” she continued.

“A hunter’s intuition?” he said with manic delight. A question as if she might accept it as the answer. “We will need to return soon enough.” Then he sighed, long lashes covering his yellow eyes as he suddenly grew tired, “You know I have just had a thought.”

“Prey tell what is it the Emperor thinks about?” she replied smiling.

“We need not return.”

She frowned and he continued.

“I know this country better than any of those hopeless royal inbreds, most of them barely leave the city. If I wanted to, if we wanted to. We could be gone with no hope of ever being found.”

“Leave your people and your country? Just like that? Only so that we may be together without interruption? How absurd,” she blurted out. Though the thought was terribly enticing. And perhaps a solution to her problem. Without the Emperor would the city crumble with no need for war?

“Oh the absurdity of it does not escape me, nor the impossibility. For even if I wanted to, even if I stole you away without so much as a second glance I would only be drawn back here again. It is an inevitability I have come to accept. Such is my fate,” then he turned to her, “And yours as well, though you are yet ignorant of it.”

“To return to Garlemald?” she asked in surprise.

“To return to me,” he said simply, before urging his mount forward.

She was not allowed to respond. Only stare at his distant form, cloak billowing behind him. Thinking about the strangeness of the statement.

Chapter Text

The Empress returned not long after, and the Emperor stopped requesting her presence. It was bittersweet for Willow. A relief and yet deprived of his company she felt somehow lonelier. 

If her fellow guardsmen somehow suspected something between them they had the good sense not to say anything and things mostly went about as usual. Except that she’d scarcely seen Julia since that day in Solus’ quarters, by her own choice like as not. 

That was until she came upon her in the living quarters. She sat on a bed of what must have been her room, though Willow had never been in it herself. Another woman sat cross legged behind her, braiding her long blonde hair into intricate knots.

“Willow,” she said as they locked eyes.

The miqo’te tried to smile cheerfully as if they could allow bygones to be bygones. Even if said bygones were sleeping with the Garlean Emperor.

“This is Evette,” she said of the woman behind her, “She is the Empress’ dresser.”

“Good to meet you,” Willow said and Evette nodded. She took the words as an invitation and made her way into the room to observe the gold laden braid about Julia’s head, “‘Tis beautiful. The Empress must surely be pleased.”

“I thank you for your kind words, but it must be far better if her Radiance is to be pleased with it,” the woman answered flatly.

“Is it for a special occasion?” she asked in hesitation.

“You’ve not heard?” Julia asked, little energy to her tone, “There is to be a grand ball in celebration of the newly expected heir.”

Willow’s eyes widened, “No I had not.”

Julia looked off into the distance while Evette stood up behind her, “I fear I will need more pins,” she muttered before taking herself briefly from the room. Julia took the moment to regain Willow’s attention.

“Did you speak with him? Did he listen?” she asked in a hushed tone.

Willow’s mouth turned to a frown and she looked to the side, “It will be more difficult than I surmised,” which was mostly the truth only she did not divulge the exact difficulty.

“I heard he took you on a hunt, I feared he might mean to kill you,” the girl continued.

“No,” she said quickly, “Not at all, I do not think my life is in danger.”

“Then what keeps you?”

And that was the heart of the question. Something she wished she did not have to answer. At her silence and avoiding gaze Julia made a disappointed sound.

“You love him,” she said.

“I do.”

“Then you are a fool. You will get yourself killed,” she shook her head, “It is a dangerous game Willow, these people, this place. We are lucky if we are nothing more than underfoot among them. And yet you have put yourself as one of the players?”

That was where Julia was incorrect. She had always been among the players, the inevitability of a spy in her position. But if she were better at her job she would not be quite so obvious about it. 

“I appreciate that you care about me,” Willow began.

“I care about all of us stuck here in servitude,” she said, somewhat of a biting tone to her words, “Just trying to survive.”

Evette returned and Willow used it as a way to excuse herself, beginning to feel very unwelcome. In the halls again she thought about the choices she had made. All the ways the scions would be disappointed in her if they knew. The same way Julia was disappointed in her. She was a mockery of a Warrior of Light. Just a girl easily manipulated by the way her heart beat fast around a man. 

It was unsurprising that the extravagance of the Imperial lifestyle extended into its grand celebrations. Weeks of agonizing toil on the part of the serving class simply to make sure no detail went untouched. 

Willow passed the ballroom several times in her rounds, golden and glittering each time more than the last. It may have been impressive, something she would look forward to were this Eorzea and she among the scions. But as it stood, and where she was, it mostly just made her sick to think about. 

She was cornered from every angle, guilt compounding ever further. If she stayed with him, if she blissfully forgot her family and friends and even identity, she would still have a kind of happiness. The unexplainable happiness she felt when she was in his presence.

But it wouldn’t be enough. Burying her guilt would never be enough. It would change her, she knew, but to defy him? It would change her just the same. There was a sacrifice to be made here she was just unsure who was to make it yet.

Solus spoke much of fate and its consequences, as aware of its hold on her as she. And fated as she was the day of the celebration soon arrived. The schedule in her hands told her she was required at the palace doors or some other such nonsense, she knew Solus would find a way to pull her in anyway. Perhaps were he feeling bold enough he may even flaunt her in front of his expecting wife. Thoughts like this reminded her the choice of sides was not terribly hard if she only forgot the way her heart fluttered at his touch. 

She arrived at the ballroom early, if only to have some task to distract herself. And thankfully, or perhaps not, the Emperor was already in attendance. The crowd was small at first, only some few of the cabinet that called the inside of the palace home. Solus stood with his arms crossed looking displeased with the entire thing. He was dressed in some version of ceremonial finery. Ornate gold designs across a blue velvet waistcoat, a fur trimmed cape across his shoulders making him look even more imposing than usual. His golden eyes seemed to match his entire ensemble and as they flickered to her she tried not to look impressed, a coy smile crawled across his face regardless.

It took him some time to extricate himself from the surrounding crowds and given that the guest of honor his dearest wife had not yet arrived, he sauntered easily in her direction. The smile that pulled at her mouth was difficult to stifle.

“Your Radiance,” she said, bowing shortly. The entire display seemed to amuse him.

“Miss Yen,” he said in return. “I do hope you will be on your best behavior tonight. Irenia has been simply beside herself about the entire thing.”

As if the casual mentioning of his wife didn’t burn like a thorn in her side. He smiled wider and she did her best to hide her reaction.

“I do not believe it is I whose behavior she must worry about,” Willow returned.

Solus barked a laugh, “Too true! Perhaps that is why she felt the need to repeat it so often,” he easily shifted his weight to the side, taking in the growing crowd before turning back to her, “How are you in the art of dancing? Did they teach such things in the isles?”

“They certainly did not,” she returned easily. Better at lying, “I have to imagine I would be abysmal at it.”

“Oh as was I once. Or likely still am, simply another facet of me my dear wife must put up with,” he turned his head, always the strange and manic look of a predator even when he was attempting to be polite, “‘Tis not so hard, perhaps I may show you some time.”

“That is very gracious of you, your Radiance,” she said, playing the game in front of Garlemald’s most powerful players. A game the Emperor seemed to care little for given the way he spoke to her, “But I am sure you have much more important things to do.”

A low laugh, a hand that squeezed her shoulder and made her face flush, “I assure you I do not,” before he turned to leave and she finally allowed herself to relax.

Little attention seemed to be on her but it was still troublesome. To have the Emperor speak to her at all on a day dedicated wholly to the Empress, it would be noticeable to any member of his entourage. 

In time the ballroom began to fill, and the instrumentalists on the stage began to play their melodious tune. When the Empress at last made her entrance, dressed for no less the part of highest royalty, it was to a rousing applause. And Solus parted the crowd to take her hand in his, bringing it softly to his lips. They both stared at each other and she could not tell for whom love was genuine.

It was then that the game truly began. The Emperor made his rounds with Irenia, his hand set gently around her waist as they moved about the room. He smiled and laughed, he made every move that was asked of him. But even from this far she could see his body rigid like a knife. Sharp enough to cut and yet his voice and words put everyone in the room at ease. 

She could read him far better than most, she had seen the worst he had to offer. Did Irenia know as well? Did it even matter to her?

Willow’s place at the door allowed her a full view of the entire ballroom. Advantageous if she were truly doing her job but her eyes stayed fixed upon the Emperor and his Empress. At some point in the evening he had a wine in hand, one that he drained quickly. Upon refilling it the Empress grabbed his wrist, she stared at him angrily as if that may get him to obey her will. He smiled at her mirthlessly and pressed in for a kiss. She turned her head and that was where they parted ways. 

It was what he wanted. Both her and Irenia knew as much. 

Willow’s tail twitched beneath her cape nervously as in his spare moment alone the Emperor stole her a glance. Her armor felt too tight for her chest, legs itching to run or fight, she would be grateful for either. But Solus did not make for her direction, only stood there in the dark corner sipping his wine before disappearing to the balcony. She felt the same, the stark heat of too many bodies and boisterous conversation was beginning to get to her.

Her eyes closed and she forced herself to take a breath, mask any nerves that might show through on her expression. And as her eyes found the crowd again she spied the Empress, matching her gaze with one of icy blue. It was brief, this connection, but it meant everything and Willow found herself needing to take another breath. A woman got Irenia’s attention, but the conversation was brief, before she was released back into the crowd and headed fast in her direction.

“May we speak,” she asked politely when she at last stood in front of her, not as tall as Solus but nearly just.

“Of course, your grace.”

She gave a tight lipped laugh, “What proper obedience, do you show him just the same?”

“Pardon me?” she stumbled in response.

“Come,” she ordered this time, waving her out to the foyer. A quieter closed off section, made ever more scarce by the Empress’ presence.

Willow followed because she had little choice and she wondered if Solus had any idea what was happening here. If she was being fed to the wolves she should like a bigger wolf at her shoulder.

Irenia looked once at the doors as they closed behind them and then focused her full attention on Willow’s mismatched eyes. Scanned her up and down. Her ears, the tail behind her cape, a clear look of judgement upon her face.

“Do not play coy with me and do not deny it, I know everything that has been going on with you and Solus behind my back,” she said sternly.

Willow only nodded in response, weighing any words she might say carefully.

“That man has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you,” she continued, “Always an aloof indifference, a stern distaste,” she said almost spitting the words like venom on her tongue, “I hardly know that he cares for anything and I had accepted that he would never care for me.”

Willow’s brow furrowed in sympathy though she knew that too may be the wrong response.

Irenia looked away briefly, “I knew the moment he invited you to our table. He may think himself coy, or more likely not even care, but I knew. His interest is not piqued easily, if at all,” then she looked back at her, “What is it about you that he finds so alluring?”

The miqo’te finally allowed herself to reply, “I am afraid not even I know the answer to that.”

“But it does not feel like idle fancy does it?” she continued, “Solus is not prone to such things. Whatever he does, whoever he shows interest in, his everything is behind it. There are no half measures with my husband.”

That much was certainly true. 

“Where does he see this ending I wonder,” Irenia continued, speaking almost wistfully. “And where do you?”

Willow looked away a moment, before meeting the woman’s gaze, “I will not insult you with an apology. Nor will I absolve myself of any responsibility,” she bowed her head, “You are correct on all accounts, your grace.”

“I know,” she answered nonchalantly and then there was silence between them. “This was an inevitability I had foreseen for some time now. I am a duty to him, I always have been. And so I treat him just the same.”

It was a sad state of affairs between them, and not one Willow was wholly responsible for. Whether or not she had come along there would never have been any love between them, Solus would have made sure of it. 

“I only wondered what it was about you that sparked those feelings in him,” she looked at Willow with a puzzled expression. “There is a depth to him that I could never reach,” she looked at her hard and instead of anger there was a softness on her features, “It is frightening. You should be careful.”

Willow looked at her in concern and surprise, the words genuine despite the circumstances, “I know what you mean.”

Irenia nodded once and then stared at the door to the ballroom and Willow’s guilt made her heart race. It was a confusing whirlwind, she had come here to end her empire. To aid in her husband's demise. But this close she was just a person, a sad and lonely woman.

“I can try and speak with him-” she began suddenly and Irenia gave a hollow laugh.

“I care little for what you do with him. ‘Tis not worth the fight that would ensue were I to object. As long as he remembers his duty to his people, that is what matters to me,” then she turned back to Willow, “It is a marriage of convenience for him and I. Love will be a separate matter for the both of us,” and then she left through the door, leaving Willow with all her breath held in her chest.

The silence potent now that the woman was gone and she had to force her legs to move. Force herself to open the door and return to her post while thoughts of her sin roiled about in her mind. A willing party to Solus’ treachery. Had he never intended to be a loyal husband? Or was it just a matter of her presence alone? Given the strange words he had said on occasion she would go with the latter. Unfortunate for everyone involved that fate had seen to put her here.

But though he was the object of her torment she still felt some relief when at last he found himself beside her in the crowd.

“You must find the company here dreadful, I know I certainly do,” he said casually.

Her head turned to him just slightly, “To my eye you fit right in.”

“A bit of posturing and dramatics is all it takes to please the crowd, but it is tiresome,” he shrugged, a bit of his aforementioned tiredness showing in his face, “But what of you? Enjoying the show?”

Willow frowned at him and an amusement gleamed in his yellow eyes, “Did my dear wife give you a proper scolding?”

“You knew?” she asked a bit angrily.

“Of course I knew, darling. But I couldn’t well whisk you away could I? Let her throw her tantrum, she will be over it soon enough,” he watched Willow flatten her ears and continued, “She is a smart woman, she would have figured it out sooner or later.”

The nonchalance with which he gave the statement told her everything she and the Empress already knew. It meant nothing to him. And here she was rewarding his cruelty.

“Do not sulk,” he said, “You’ve no reason to feel sorry for yourself.”

“Perhaps I must feel guilty enough for the both of us.”

He scoffed, a flash of anger in his eyes, “Do not insult me with this, I have no patience for it,” she stood steadfast in his direction but his form was still rather intimidating. He was leaning slightly, leering at her, “You are blind the both of you. I have forgiven your ignorance but you would do well not to press me.”

She returned his narrowed gaze but then faltered and stared ahead at the sea of people, “You would be content that I stop asking questions.”

“I would be content that you start asking the right ones.”

Her eyes flickered back to him in curiosity but he only sighed and pressed a hand to his temple, “I apologize, this night has been terribly trying on my patience. I’ve little desire for social niceties as it is.”

Willow felt the mood shift with his apology and laughed lightly, “You don’t say?”

He smiled at her, “See? You understand. If only these inbred half-men could recognize my disgust.”

“I am sure you are not subtle.”

“I am not!” he replied in manic agreement and then a wry smile crossed his face and he stared at her fondly. “Do you know I tire of these obligations, let us leave this place.”

“Solus,” she said in futility, though she knew not why. The Empress already knew and likely it would spread from there. If he had no desire to hide their relationship there was little she could do to stop him.

He did not wait for an answer, only pushed through the door behind her. And Willow, after seeing the Empress’ face amid a sea of faces, followed after him.

His tension eased immediately in the empty halls and he flung his arms to the side, “Much better would you not agree?”

It was a relief to be rid of the sound and busy movement of the large ballroom, and reluctant as she was to admit it, to be in his company. She caught up to his side only for him to throw his arm around her, pressing her close as they walked in stride. 

“I need you on nights like this you know,” he said as if he were admitting some dark secret, “This entire endeavor is taxing enough.”

She looked at him and frowned as he continued leading them ahead.

“Why me?”

“Why you?” he parroted back to her.

“The Empress, that was all she wanted to know. And I fear I had no answer for her.”

A single laugh that echoed down the hall, “Of course that was her desire. Why not she is more likely her question,” and then he looked at her pleading gaze and his smile turned thoughtful, “Well no other answer but the truth is there? You are my girl, no matter what you may look like or where we may be. You will always be my heart. I would have no other.”

At her even more scrutinizing expression he feigned ignorance, “Oh dear have I said too much? Perhaps the drink has loosened my tongue.”

“You will not speak plain with me?”

“I know not how much plainer I can be,” he returned jovially, “The soul transcends all things, my dear. And it feels, oh how it feels.”

She felt him squeeze her shoulder before letting go and the words resonated with her, “A feeling you say? As if you are meant to be with someone.”

“More than that, so much more.”

“Yes,” she said softly.

“You know, don’t you?” he asked quietly in return.

“I know.”

He smiled at her and brushed his thumb across her cheek in an affectionate gesture. She felt it like sparks against her skin. And she knew she wanted more.

“I’d never thought such a thing was possible,” she said.

“There is much you do not know. You and your kin. But to open your mind to the unknown is the first step, and I am proud of you for doing so.”

The thought of it, a bond that transcended time, some unseen force fit by fate to bound you to another. Did not even the scholars of Eorzea know of it? The thought drowned out the uncertainty of her feelings for him, if only for a time.

“I would like to know more, if you would teach me,” she said hopefully.

“All in due time I assure you,” he smiled and placed a hand on her head before they reached their destination.

The answer she’d given had pleased him greatly and she wondered if that was what he had been looking for all that time. A desire to learn, to be taught. Did he see her as a willing and equal soul? Or merely someone to mold with his knowledge. At this moment did she even care?

The door in question lead to the Imperial gardens, the warm smell of plants a comfort to her ruminating mind. Solus too seemed at ease as his languid steps took him further into the winding labyrinth.

“We shan’t be bothered here, I know how you despise prying eyes,” he said to her.

“And a man in your position does not?” she replied wryly to his jest.

“True, my job would be far easier without their meddling in my private life. But now that Irenia is sniffing about, ripe for gossip as she is, who is to say what will happen?” 

“I was of the same mind,” Willow sighed, “It may be pointless even if we wish it otherwise,” she crossed her arms, “Wishful thinking to believe this would not grow even more complicated.”

“Don’t fret my sweet girl,” he said and his hands finally found her face, held it and tipped it up to meet him, “It only means we must cherish these few moments we have together. Unbothered by society’s rabble.”

She stared into his eyes. Fathomless, filled with an unreachable feeling. Oh to be smothered by it. He pulled her closer and leaned into her reach, pushing his mouth into hers. He was warm and tasted like wine. The way his hands moved down to her back and enveloped her small body in his made her shiver in anticipation. 

Willow wrapped her arms around the back of shoulders, hands grasping the fur trimmed cape at his neck. It was she who pushed for more this time and she felt a low laugh in his throat. Pleased at her eagerness it would seem. 

He was hers. She felt it in the way her heart raced, the warm feeling in her chest. She trembled each time she looked at him. The echo in her soul, the knowledge that she wanted to, needed to be with him. And it was a relief to finally accept it. To let her body be overwhelmed by the feeling, to let him take control of her with no remorse.

And take control he did, pushed against her, hands moving as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted them. Until at last he grasped her hair and tightened. The pressure was good with the sharpness of his mouth and she wanted to scramble into him just to get more. Just to feel him dig his claws into her back as if he could never get enough. He seemed to know it, to feel it, and he was all too eager to tear her in half.

Just how difficult had it been for him to hold himself back that night? When she was afraid of what they might do together? She felt Solus pause and pull his mouth from her.

Willow looked at him in desperation, “I want you,” she said and the words set him alight.

“Oh the feeling is so very mutual,” he spoke low against her, a growl in his tone, a promise. And then he did his best to collect himself. Leaned back and drowned out the longing in his eyes, “But, not here. I owe you my full attention, and I fear some of it still remains with my deplorable guests. Tonight, in my study.

“Not like you to hold yourself back.”

“Aha, too true. But I do have some unshakeable obligations I am afraid. You might say they are hard to deny,” then his lip tipped up just slightly in an unsettling smile, “You are dismissed however. I am sure Irenia will not miss you at her celebration.”

He pulled back from her and made his way easily from the gardens, giving her an easy wave as he left. Willow stood and watched him, listened to the doors shut and sat in the still buzzing feeling of his lips on hers.

“Well,” spoke a voice from the shadows. “That was something I could have done without.”

Willow’s entire body went rigid, her breath caught in her chest. In alarm she whirled around to see the flicker of Thancred in a darkened corner, “Thancred,” she huffed breathlessly.

“The Emperor might be courting you indeed,” he said flatly, “Either you are a far greater charlatan than even I, or you have fallen for him. I would wage all my money on the latter.”

“What-” she began, shame burning on her face, “What are you doing here? It is dangerous.”

“Of course it is,” he spat back, “I came for you, to warn you. We all feared something terrible had happened. Now I half wonder if you did not orchestrate it yourself.”

“I did no such thing,” she said quickly, “You must leave here at once,” the panic grew in her tone at the thought of what Solus may do to one or both of them. Such a keen drop from euphoric feelings moments earlier. Such a grim reminder of what she had become.

“The only way I am leaving is with you in tow,” he replied flatly. “We did you a disservice keeping you here as long as we did. You're godsdamned one of them, and you are coming home right now.”

She stared at Thancred in pathetic misery, feeling the bile rise in her throat at the words. She was becoming someone else, and how much she was enjoying it. Eorzea was her home, her people. The Emperor cared little for them. Only her. And had she been alright with that? She felt dizzy when she thought about it.

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just come with me,” and now he was pleading, his brow furrowed at her in the shadows.

There was a beat of silence before she said, “No.”

“No?” he sputtered in disbelief.

Willow took a deep breath, “I have to right this.”

“Right it at our side,” he continued, eyes constantly flickering over her shoulder, “The contingent aims to make a move within only several days time. You will be caught in the crossfire if we do not leave now.”

“It won’t work,” she muttered, “He will see it coming, he will know.”

“I doubt that, you’re still alive aren’t you?” he returned.

“Yes but that is different,” she said, looking to the side in shame once again as she remembered all Thancred had seen. Then she realized the reality of her situation. The only way free of the chains of guilt that hung around her neck well deserved. “Let me do it.”

“Do what?”

“Make the killing blow,” she replied, trying not to let the shiver in her words show, “He trusts me. He won’t see it coming.”

He finally took a chance with stepping from the darkness only briefly to flash her a look of anger, “Are you mad?”

“You saw how he treats me, you know it will work.”

“I will not burden you with such a decision,” he continued, alarmed.

Willow swallowed, feeling tears prick at her vision, “You are right. About everything, I fell for him and I forgot my purpose and my people. I have been away from home too long.”

He stared at her a moment before something at the doorway grabbed his attention, “Know that I disagree with this, but there is no point in arguing with you once you’ve set your mind about something.”

He took her by the wrist, squeezing and looking hard at her, “Stay safe, remember what I taught you. And good luck,” disappearing into the shadows once again, “You will need it.”

Chapter Text

She was in the Emperor’s study. Despite any decision she had come to, any resolution of what must be done for her people, she had somehow ended up here anyway. The better part of her wondered if she could sway him somehow. His affection for her grew each time she sought his knowledge, drove for an answer to the strangeness between them. If only she could use that to her advantage.

The cold, dark night of Garlemald extended through the large window behind his desk on which she sat. Doing nothing but staring in front of her, ruminating on that which must be done. The room itself was a representation of him, filled with foreign knowledge and nameless instruments of sorcery. She stared at the darkness in front of her until at last he entered.

“Well, look at you,” he crooned, “Waiting with bated breath I presume?”

She did not answer, did not move. Wanted to make him come to her. He did not. Instead standing and pulling the long cape from his shoulders, letting out a quiet sound of relief at the absence of its weight. He laid it across the back of the long sitting lounge and then took to unbuttoning the length of his dress coat. His brow raised in her direction.

“Might you like to help me with this?” he asked.

Making her come to him then. She hesitated a moment and he paused to watch her, before at last she slid off the desk to cross the distance between them. He smiled that sharp smile, pleased at her obedience. Her smaller hands fit lightly over his, beginning to unbutton where he had stopped and he dropped his hands to allow it. Watching her soft, deliberate movements. Studying her as if she were some great object of fascination. She focused on her task until the last gold button was undone, revealing only an undershirt clinging to his frame, collared at the throat.

He was taunting her, allowing her to be so close and have her hands at his body. But doing nothing about it. In the quiet her head tipped up to look at him, hooded yellow eyes and long lashes, half his mouth pulled up in some sardonic smile.

“Well?” he said flatly. “Continue.”

She furrowed her brow at first but did as told. Taking the initiative to slip her hands under the coat at his shoulders and slide it off. Tempted to keep them at his back. He shrugged out of it easily but it put him in a position of leering over her. Her head tipped up and he cut the distance between them, pressing his forehead to hers, staring at her as if his gaze was enough to swallow her.

Then he took her hands, held them a moment before placing them at the hilt of his belt. She was unsure of when she had begun shivering, the anticipation of the moment, the feeling of it all drowning her senses. It was perfectly quiet in the room with the exception of her breathing which was much faster than she would have liked.

The belt unfastened with a clink and she hooked her thumbs underneath and pulled down. The edge of her fingers barely catching his waistband and it made her swallow hard. Above her Solus pressed harder down in her space.

It was in the air, this heaviness between them. This unspoken connection which transcended soul. Setting her body alight, not unlike the feeling of static in the air before a storm. A strange sensation made only stranger by her company.

Not knowing where else to place her hands she set them on his hips, he seemed to shift to her touch unconsciously but as she began to pull the last of what remained from the his person he grabbed her wrists gently.

“Ladies first,” he said, raising himself back to his full height.

He was content to pull his warmth from her and lounge on the sofa behind them, as if he intended for her to continue her good work. Willow was quiet a moment as she considered how best to broach the subject that spun uncomfortably in her mind.

“I have been thinking about what we spoke of earlier,” she said.

To her surprise he rolled his eyes, likely upset that she was ruining the moment, “Have you?” he asked dryly.

“I was wondering how you knew? That our souls were bound? You picked me from a crowd the moment we met. How?”

He sighed in resignation before smiling mischievously, “I am more than willing to divulge the secrets of the soul as a reward for good behavior. Now. Go on.”

Willow eyed him suspiciously but did as he asked nonetheless. Pulling off her thick wool shirt and then the button on her trousers. Slowly she slipped it off until she was in nothing but undergarments. Solus had his chin couched in his hand watching her, and waved with his other hand as if he expected her to continue.

“Answer my question first,” she demanded and crossed her arms, partly because the chill was much more apparent without any clothes.

He sighed as if put upon by the whole ordeal, “ Fine. You ask how I know? I would answer your question with another. How did you?”

She narrowed her eyes and shook her head at his dodging of the question, “I did not at first. I had to spend time with you before I began to feel it.”

“ Feel ,” he repeated. “Powerful a feeling is it not?”

“So is that your answer.”

“Among other things.”

She scoffed, clearly getting nowhere. He was distracted, unwilling to speak of knowledge while his body demanded something else. And she too would like to fulfill her own needs. Easy to forget the way they were at odds when alone in a room with him. Easy to forget who he was.

He stared at her in anticipation and she stripped the rest of her small clothes off slowly in the darkness. Naked like this in front of him she felt strange. Out of her armor, vulnerable, tail more obvious than ever. It was what he watched twitch behind her with lidded eyes and then he found her face again. 

“Here I am,” she said as if to please him.

“Here you are,” he repeated, smiling.

He stood to his full height, coming back to her again and fitting her hands at the hem of his shirt, “A reward. For such a good show. Perhaps not what you wanted, but I promise you will enjoy it.”

She helped it off him, the full view of his body, pale in the moonlight. An almost ethereal beauty to his visage that did not match the acts she knew he were capable of. He pushed to meet her, took her lips in his own and kissed as though his last. His hands cupped around hers again, helping her to derobe the last of him. And now in the darkness they had nothing but one another. The truth and honesty of a body unhidden.

It was easy for him to pull her small form to his, and when he kissed, when he pressed for more, it was not careful. He did not treat her as some small fragile thing. Rough and desperate. He dragged out their act of undressing, the tension between them, if only because he knew he would not be able to stop himself once it began.

True that she felt it as well, this subtle call to mania when in his presence. This burning needing feeling within her chest. But for whatever she were suffering he seemed to be suffering much worse. Struggling to leash it, desperate to quiet it. 

There were no words between them in this moment. Any thoughts she may have had, pleas she may have given him fell away as he began to kiss her. Frantic down her jawline, into her neck. Reverent, pleading, his hands tied into her hair as her head pulled back. As his teeth grazed her neck. Kissed her chest, her ribs and soon she were lying back on something. How it had happened, when, she did not know. Only his touch, only his hands and mouth.

“Please,” left her lips before she could stop it and Solus pulled from between her hips to meet her mouth again.

“Oh, my dear, my love, how I have longed to hear your plea. How I have dreamed of it,” he spoke hushed between their kiss. “And you are doing so well,” breathless in his tone, “You must come back, you must.”

How fervent the words, how lost to something else he was in moments between them. And how much she wanted to comfort him. Such overflowing, boundless sadness. It poured from him in their kiss, in his fingers grasping at her back with maddened desire. To whom was his desperate call? To her? To a foreign soul days long past? He was sick with it, and perhaps it gave some insight to the man he was in life. Memory had gripped him somehow and was unwilling to let go.

“I am here,” she said, and gripped him tightly. As if the touch might solidify her words. This time it was no simple comment. It had meaning, truth.

“Oh you are, you are,” he murmured again and again. 

And as she opened her heart, let him pour his soul with hers, she felt it heavy in her chest. A blooming ecstasy, an unknowable want. Solus upon her moaned. Perhaps were he in his right mind he would bite back the sound but he was long gone. Drowning in the bond between them as much as she. 

The way his hands shook as he held her closer, pulled her in until she could feel the heaviness of his body. Pushed for more again, and again. She felt right, she felt whole. Something she had never known to be missing but now how could she live without it. She understood his obsession with her, his desire to keep her safe. All so that he may covet this feeling forever. Love her in his own frightening, desperate way.

He took her as no one had taken her before, as no one would take her after. With soul and mind and shivering skin. Heat and teeth, a fevered incantation as she lost her train of thought and he above her. A vision of what might have been or what might be just beyond her reach. A city burning, a people suffering, a heavy and unshakeable duty. But to whom did such thoughts belong. Had she seen her own future? One of Garlemald and its unavoidable consequences. In her delirium she could decipher no more, blind with the pleasure he had given her.

His body slowed above her, struggling to keep train of thought as much as she. Doubled in half, arms resting on either side of her. Short hair brushing against her chest as his head dropped, that same distant and weary expression in the shadow of his face as before. Weakly she put her hands around his face, tucked the hair behind his ear. Pet him gently. He closed his eyes and there was a softness to the moment. An innocence she was unfamiliar with in his presence.

“It is just beyond your reach,” he said with his head still bowed, “But I can feel it. When I am with you.”

Finally he raised his face from her hands, looking half the man she had seen parading around the party that evening.

“As though tearing an old wound anew. But I would not forsake such pain. Not if I may have your company for its price.

“Tell me what hurts, Solus,” she said and at his name there is a nearly imperceptible change in his features. As though that same pain drove through his heart at the words, “I want to help. I want to chase what lies between us as surely as you do. Allow me your honesty.”

“I fear I cannot,” he said and smiled in an almost genuine way, “To force it would be unwise. You must come to your own conclusions.”

She shook her head as he finally pulled himself back from her. Slowly he made his way about the room, redressing and gathering his mind as he did so. She watched the strings which pulled him back into place, which drained the honesty and sorrow from his features. She heard the soft breath released from his lungs as he looked back at her again.

“I do not want to lose you,” fell from her mouth before she could stop it.

HIs head turned in curiosity, “And why would you?”

There is a bareness to her face that may have said everything but Solus stayed quiet as she considered her words, “You live a dangerous life,” she said which was still the truth, “Wage war with any who may oppose you. I would beg peace if I knew it would get me anywhere.”

A gentle laugh, “Sweet of you to worry, my dear. But my life is in no danger. For I have you by my side,” a wicked smile, “Or have you forgotten your charge already?”

She bowed her head sadly, “I have not.”

“Then, given your performance so far I have nothing to fear. You will protect me won’t you,” phrased as a statement. A knowing demand.

“Yes,” she said and nothing else.

Chapter Text

“Is that wise, your Radiance? We stand on the cusp of war. It would hardly do to have you away from home at a time like this,” one of his entourage spoke the words she had been thinking herself since her arrival.

Not short of waking had she received the missive. To accompany the Emperor to a southern Ceruleum outpost with apparently no forewarning to his scientists or cabinet otherwise given. Solus himself looked perfectly pleased with the decision, standing languidly outside his personal airship. 

“‘Tis precisely the reason for it,” he replied, “Though your concern is noted and promptly disregarded, any other points of concern or may I be on my way?”

“No your grace,” a bit quieter than before.

“Splendid,” the Emperor replied dryly before climbing into the back.

Willow paused a moment to watch the forlorn man before following suit and feeling the rumble of the airship as its engine came to life. Solus smiled at her smoothly as he leaned himself into a more comfortable position.

“The date is set then?” she asked once they were suitably in the air.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked as if he truly did not know.

“Your invasion upon Eorzea,” she answered.

“You sound troubled,” a smug smile, “Need we go over it again? In a world such as yours there is no hope for order without first shedding blood. I try to rule with an even hand, I do, I want all my people to prosper. But to ask that they go quietly? Simply out of the question.”

“I believe you when you say you desire peace.”

“As you should.”

“But I disagree with your methods.”

“Perhaps that naive stubbornness would serve you elsewhere but not here. Not with me.”

A sigh through her nose as she turned to stare at the clouds passing by.

“You and I want the same thing,” he said after a beat of silence. “A world that knows nothing but peace and contentment. A world where we may each share in the equality of one another.”

“And upon achieving this world you would step down as Emperor?”

“Of course,” he replied smoothly. “You and I would be party to a wondrous change, a setting of the world to its natural state,” and then he reached out, dragged a finger down her jaw, “Think on it.”

A plea for her understanding, as he had ever plead before. Disagree they may but he wanted her at his side as much as she did. Though neither of them were willing to concede.

The two of them lapsed back into silence and Willow considered how little time she had to change his mind. Stubborn bull of a man that he was he may well never be changed. She stared at the woods below them and watched the landscape of Garlemald change with the swirling snow. 

The hum and rocking of the flight had nearly put her to sleep before she was shocked awake by the pilot crying out in alarm. 

A flare through the sky, a ball of flame, magic cast and sent through the air to smack dead onto the side of their airship. It lit up, cracked through the windows. Solus grabbed her, pressed her hard onto the ground and she could smell nothing but acrid smoke, burning singed skin. Hear shattering glass and the blaring alarms of their warmachina.

He pulled off of her and ducked into the pilots seat with no hesitation. With a thunk what was left of the pilot fell beside her and she felt the bile rise in her throat.

“With me,” he commanded and stretched his hand behind to her.

She took it because she was lost. Reeling from the thought of war and the side on which she stood. He pulled her roughly, set her in the co-pilot seat and the shattered front window appeared to be patched with a temporary shield. A blessing and a curse that the Empire was so forward thinking. 

“They acted far sooner than I anticipated,” he stated. He was out of breath but not frightened, merely acting to solve the problem.

“You anticipated them?” she nearly sputtered.

“‘Tis poor form to ever assume you have the upper hand,” he replied without turning to her, fingers flipping the levers and then yellow eyes finally darting to the side.

An airship much larger in size and almost hidden by Garlemald’s cloudy skies cruised behind them. Another fireball hurled their way without hesitation but Solus dropped before it could meet its mark.

“Strap in my dear, we either outpace them or we burn together. I still have not decided which it will be.”

A hiss as the airship took off with speed and Willow found herself clinging to the side. Never had she been inside a warmachine in battle. A terrifying experience, trapped within the hurtling confines of its metal. And she helpless to do anything. For a blessing Solus seemed to know what he was doing but he was perhaps enjoying it a little too much. A sharp smile as another fireball came careening off the back end of the ship.

His hands worked deftly at the controls. The sky no more than a blur, further height and speed. Farther and farther away from her home, her people. She knew the cost of staying, of putting herself in the line of fire. But it was as she had expected. They would never catch the Emperor unawares. He was nearly out of their sight already and now he was on his guard. He was too quick, too smart. Only someone closest to him could slide a blade through his ribs.

The thought lingered as the Eorzean Alliance faded further into the distance. Alarums blaring in her ears and smoke searing her lungs. Hazily she looked down to find a piece of glass stuck in the soft mesh of her armor. She pulled it out and watched the warm blood rush to the wound. Solus was not watching her, focused only on piloting them to safety.

Maybe in another life…

Another ball of flame tore off their backend before Solus could react and sent them spinning. The Emperor tried desperately to right it, sending them spinning in opposite ends before they dropped in altitude. Willow clung to the side, feeling the the strap dig into her chest as the ship pointed its nose to the ground.

So she would die here then. They both would. 

She had tried hard to push the thought from her mind, back when she had taken up the life of an adventurer. Of a scion. The possibility that her life would end like this. But if it was for purpose, for her people. It would be enough.

Maybe in another life…

A hand wrapped around her waist, held her close and she could not parse what happened next. The screeching of metal, rolling, burning. A horrendous thud that should have killed her and yet somehow she was still alive, tossed out of the open door by Solus and landing facefirst in the snow.

Behind her he was laughing.

She turned her head, watching the bloody imprint she left in the white. Solus hung against what was left of the doorframe, cackling. 

“How did you fare in the chaos?” he asked as if it had been bracing. Just some adventure like hunting monsters in the woods. “I believe I may have broken a rib,” and another laugh as if such a thing were unheard of though it ended in a pained oof .

She heard his footsteps in the snow behind her. He would take her by the chin, look her over, appraise that she was alright. And then he would take her back to Garlemald and prepare for war. And he would see the airship and her people that still traveled through enemy skies destroyed.

If the Emperor lived they were all as good as dead. And how many more? And with an agony in her chest she realized Solus was right. There could be no peace without bloodshed.

She could feel him behind her and she turned. Her rapier shimmed from the aether and she stuck it. Without fanfare. Between his ribs.

The absolute horrified surprise in his eyes broke something in her. Made her throat burn, her chest tight. He struggled to contain it at first, looking at her with an unflinching stare and terrified hurt in his eyes. And then it turned to mania, eyes still wide with the same strength of emotion.

“Damn,” he said as if it meant nothing, “And here I was thinking we finally understood each other.”

As if to punctuate the statement and quell the feeling in her chest she yanked the sword back through his ribs, earning a quick choke from him in return as fresh blood poured from the wound.

“I am sorry,” she said, feeling the tears gathering on her lashes.

His head turned as he quickly grew pale, “Are you?”

“For what it’s worth I did care about you,” she looked down and then back quickly to his burning yellow eyes, “But my people must come first.”

His lips turned upwards to a wicked smile, tipped scarlet with his blood, “We are of the same mind on that I am afraid,” he said, “And for what it’s worth, I do believe you.”

She opened and closed her mouth as if some explanation may take back her sin, but nothing came out. She only stared. His hand pulled the tear from her cheek, smiled strangely at her.

The knot in her throat was making it hard to speak, “Perhaps,” she said, “In another life. If our souls are as you say,” a moment to collect herself, “Perhaps another life where fate is kinder to us.”

A furrow in his brow, “There is no life for us where fate is kind, darling,” lithe fingers through her hair, “But oh how I wish that were true.”

He pulled her lips against his and she could taste nothing but the blood in his throat. Hear nothing but his struggling breath as he refused to let go. She let him, she took her penance for his life, allowed him this one last moment before he returned to the lifestream. He was leaning heavy on her and when he finally pulled back he was too weak to stand. Her hand reached for his in futility as he collapsed to the ground.

“Well,” he rasped out, “Run while you can.”

Chapter Text

And so she did run. Ran until her lungs burned her feet ached. Ran until she could think of nothing but the blood pouring from his mouth. Her knees hit the ground, a cry from her throat and she pressed her hand against her lips to try and stifle it.

She had left him in the snow. Nothing but a corpse and she the killer. And though she felt she may never be the same she knew she would do it again. If it meant that Thancred and Alphinaud and Alisaie and all the rest would be safe. That her people would be free. She would do it again.

The cold of the night was setting in and she had no choice but to push on. Roughly wipe the tears from her eyes and make for civilization. She had a vague plan and an even vaguer sense of direction but she knew Garlemald was littered with towns. Though they may not be so eager to support one of her kind, the armor of a legionnaire may be enough to convince them. And knowing Thancred he would be looking for her as much as she were looking for him. As she had played her part so too would they play theirs.

The chill was beginning to numb her fingers and the blood on her armor had long dried out, a haphazard healing done not long ago when the pain had become too much. It was difficult to focus on anything but putting one foot in front of the other.

In the haze of her tired mind she spotted twinkling lights ahead, glowing spots through the trees. And as she reached the edge of the forest a city came into view. The very same city where her and Solus had attended the theatre not several weeks ago, now her only chance at freedom.

It was a relief to be shielded from the wind once inside its walls though the looks she received by passersby were decidedly less relieving. She had hoped to lay low without questions, or at least avoid a significant confrontation. But as a guard began to approach her she realized she may be left with no choice.

“Excuse me ma’am,” he said and Willow tried to force her posture to ease, the look of someone very much not a fugitive, “Are you perhaps an Imperial bodyguard?”

Her head turned just slightly in acknowledgment but she gave no answer.

“The Emperor has been looking for you.”

“The Emperor,” she repeated the words without understanding them.

“He seemed quite concerned about you. He said you both got separated in a nasty attempt on his life,” the guard continued, explaining as if she were afflicted with some form of amnesia.

“I am aware,” she answered and she considered running. “Is he well?”

“Well enough given the circumstances,” the guard pursed his lips, “He seemed quite concerned about you. He is staying at the local inn, shall I escort you?”

That man had lost far too much blood to be any form of well which left only several possible explanations. All of which terrifying.

The capital already knew of her treachery and had set a trap for her. Or the Emperor was well and truly alive, reincarnated by magic not of this world. Of course she knew such dark magicks existed but she had scarcely seen them herself. Only heard of their perpetrators in passing. The scions spoke of the Ascians with hushed tones, as one would the folktales of her kin. But they would not say such things without reason, which meant it was entirely possible she had tried to kill the unkillable.

“Miss?” the guard prompted again, likely more convinced by her silence that she had some horrendous head injury.

“Take me to him,” she said, and drew her aether to her palm.

It was a small inn, not nearly ostentatious enough to fit its current clientele. Though the room she was lead to was in a floor all its own. Before the guard could rapt his hand against the door Willow spoke.

“Leave us, if you would,” she said.

He looked at her curiously but then decided better to speak against anyone the Emperor was so fond of. He only bowed his head and turned to leave before she turned the door with a click.

There he sat, with one leg crossed over the other at the edge of the bed. Staring at her languidly like some sly cat, not an ounce of concern in the way he carried himself.

“Come in won’t you?” he asked and she knew at once there was no way out.

She shut the door behind her and stood without speaking.

“Naughty girl,” he stated simply, “And after all I have done for you. All the love I have shown, this is how you would repay me?” A heavy sigh, “I should not be surprised, it is in your nature. And yet I always am,” a pitiful smile in her direction, “I had thought you were different and so the fault is very much mine to bear.”

“Speak plain with me,” she growled.

And that elicited a laugh of mania from him, “Oh how exciting, will we finally show our true faces to one another? Well, Willow Yen, warrior of light,” he stood and bowed, “I am Emet-Selch. Ascian by nature and Emperor by trade. Though the occupation has grown rather dull. I daresay you nearly did me a favor.”

It was hard to contain the revelation, the way the fear and anger overcame her. To have been so blind to the truth all this time. To say she was playing the game poorly was an understatement. She had never been on the board, he had cast her aside the moment he’d met her.

“You must think me a proper fool,” she said, “It must have pleased you greatly to have me in your bed and at your whim.”

“Indeed, but not for the reasons you think. You see were it not for my protection you’d have been branded a traitor and cast aside with nary a chance to defend yourself. But I made sure that never happened, you were safe with me. I did you a kindness.”

She recalled all the times he had held her roughly, forced her hand, snarled with teeth and did not think that any of it equated to kindness. But he looked at her with such genuine belief there was no arguing to be done.

“Why,” she asked flatly.

“Because your soul is precious to me. I have never lied to you, not once about anything. We are bound, you and I. And we alone may see the world reborn to its former beauty. You must know it to be true. Together there would cease to be a pair more powerful.”

“I do not want to rule, I do not want to hurt,” she spoke with heated breath, “How I have begged you to consider otherwise and yet you cast me aside. If I am precious to you as you say, why will you not listen?”

The words seemed to frustrate him terribly. He closed his eyes and took a tight breath through his nose, “Ah but you see, here lies the problem. As much as I wish it you are not her. And I was too weak to accept the truth despite it being painfully obvious.” He took a step closer and she stood fast, “You are something else, an unholy amalgamation, through which her scattered soul was unfortunate enough to be caught inside,” he shrugged, looking at her wildly, “Just like all the rest.”

The madness, the unfathomable grief which took hold of him in their time together. His words, his actions. It made sense to her now. A man desperate for someone he could never get back.

“I am sorry,” she said, “For your loss. I know not what you have been through but I do know I cannot abide by your actions. I cannot allow you to rule in tyranny any longer,” her brow furrowed, a burning call to action once more in her chest. She had failed her people once and she would not do so again.

“Look at you, playing hero,” he said lightly, “Well go on then, what shall it be this time? Strangulation? Decapitation? Oh what fun.”

The futility of the fight did not escape her. Were she to succeed he would only return and without the Scions aid and knowledge she had no way of knowing how to make such a thing permanent. 

And yet she still drew the aether that had been building from her palm and let it loose in front of her with a crack. But as the holy burst through the air it missed its mark spectacularly for Emet-Selch was nowhere to be found. 

A whiff of dark aether behind her and he did not fight fair. Twisting his hand in her hair and driving her to her knees before using the force of his weight to hold and overpower. Prone on her chest before his knee pressed between her shoulderblades and caused her to cry out. His hand still tight in her hair she summoned aether once again, only for it to be smothered entirely by his darkness.

“You wretched creature,” he growled in her ear, “Small, powerless, unable to touch a fraction of her soul. Were you her this would be nothing and yet I could smote you into dust if I so desired it,” his knee drove further into her spine, “Pitious.”

His aether was overpowering, suffocating. And if it were not for his weight on her back she would still find it hard to breathe. Her hands clawed against the cold floor, tried to press against him and it made him laugh. She ripped at his hand, dug in until she drew blood but it did not deter him.

“Fight all you like it will avail you naught,” he said poignantly, “I gave you far more of a chance than you deserved and you failed miserably, and now we may do this my way.”

As his aether began to cloud her mind a warmth lit inside her, the depth of her soul crying out for her to fight. She let her focus drop until it was the only things she saw and felt all the breath leave the man behind her, his grip on her loosened enough for her to flip her body out from under him. Scrambling backwards she cast a haphazard flare that scorched the side of his shoulder. And though he had not cried out the first time she’d taken his life, he cried out this time. The smell of singed skin and crackling aether in the air.

He was wild, unfocused as he reached for her again and she dodged out of the way. Taking aim with her rapier and dancing just beyond his movements. 

“Enough of this,” he snarled, and though the light of Hydaelyn’s blessing must surely be weakening him he pulled to the darkness once more, a hard breath of effort as his hands gripped around her body. And before she could cast a flare and risk both their lives in the process he wrenched her arm behind her with a sickening snap. She made a horrid sound of pain and he pulled them both through the void.

As they appeared at their destination he tossed her to the ground, caring little for which way she fell and the burst of pain within her arm dimmed her vision. His heels clicked against the hard floor as he walked towards her again, leaning down and grabbing her hand.

“Heal yourself,” he demanded and when she stared at him he wrenched her other arm and placed a palm against her broken one, “Heal yourself,” he barked, “I will not have this mortal form broken for when she returns.”

She stared at him angrily, breathing hard through her nose in wrath and pain but managed to conjure what aether she could to the wound. It seemed to calm him instantly and his grip on her arm loosened.

“Good,” he murmured before pulling the same hand to his shoulder, “Now you will heal me.”

“You cannot heal yourself,” she said as if it were an insult.

A low, tired laugh, “Not unless I discard of this body and take another. Though I think you will agree that is quite tedious.”

She placed her hand atop the burn just to feel him flinch, he narrowed his eyes at her but said nothing as the mottled skin began to grow healthy again. His grip slipped from her wrist and he stood, turning his back to her. She tried to follow but her legs could not find the strength. 

“Do not bother,” he said, without turning. “We are in His domain. You and your aether of light are quite useless,” he then turned his head slightly to fix her with a wry smile, “I had never expected you would be one of them. Her vaunted warriors. Funny thing.”

Willow tried again to press herself to stand but her body struggled to listen. That she had been able to heal moments earlier was only because he had allowed it. She was at his whim now and it was clear he was finished showing her kindness. Around her foreign deep violet runes swam about the walls and beneath her a sigil etched in gold upon the speckled black floor.

“What is this place?” she asked and even her voice was beginning to fail her.

“My crowning achievement,” he answered plainly, while focusing his hand against several of the runes, “And your only salvation,” he approached her again and kneeled down to meet her pressed against the ground. “Up, up,” he demanded and when she was slow to respond he took her forcefully by the shoulders and leaned her forward, beginning to unbuckle her armor before she could stop him, “This never suited you,” and it seemed the words were only for himself.

His hand gripped her shoulder firmly to keep her upright while the other pulled her outfit off piece by piece. He was careful and deliberate and when she looked at him his face was pulled tight by the focus. 

“This is an act of madness,” she said quietly, “You think you might sacrifice me in return of another.”

He did not answer, only continuing his work.

“Whoever I was before, that woman is gone.”

A scoff and he pulled off the armor strapped to her legs.

“I am Willow now, and I have purpose, people I love. Does that not matter?”

A yelp as she was forcefully slammed onto her back. His palm pressed against her chest now devoid of armor and he leaned down to hiss in her ear.

“There is only one part of you that has ever mattered,” he spoke, bitter, “If you understood you would pity the thing you have become, as I do. Naivety has given you a false sense of purpose but you have none here. And these people that you love? They are less than you. Your duty? Meaningless,” his speaking grew erratic in tone, “All that matters is the world that came before, do you understand? Your world, your people,” he looked at her manic, “Your love.” And then he stood quickly and walked away from her.

She rolled her head to the side to stare at him, beginning to shiver from the cold and something else. His back was the only thing she could see as he stood and took a calming breath.

“I am sorry I do not understand,” she said.

“As am I,” he replied in the same tone, and then more jovially, “But that is alright. We will rectify what ails you and you will have no more cause to wonder.”

A silence again, feeling the click of his heels against the cold tile as he walked from one place to another, finalizing his creation. At once he approached her again and kneeled down. It pulled her attention back from the haze of sleep she was feeling. His hand gently grabbing hers and dropping something in it. A smooth yellow stone, the same one she had found glowing that night in his study.

“Do you remember this?” he asked.

It was warm in her hand, comforting.

“Yes,” and then she tried to lean up to meet his eyes. Surprisingly he helped her, pressing a hand at her shoulder, “What is it?”

“We Ascians are few and far between. Only several of us truly survived the sundering and the rest, well, poor imitations,” he stared at the wall in front of her, “It is possible for us to bring a soul back to the truth of its form but they are still as susceptible to death as their mortal counterpart. ‘And we do so using what you now hold in your hand. A memory crystal. That particular one is yours.”

“That is what you’re going to do to me?”

“No,” he said shortly, “Far more than that,” gently he took the crystal back from her open palm, “True rebirth. That is what I am going to do to you,” then he stood and smiled, “You should thank me.”

Her heart was hammering in her chest and yet her body was too exhausted to move. The feeling of fear trapped inside her without purpose. She was an object to him and when he was finished it would be as if she never existed. A fate worse than death.

“Will it be painful?”

“Who is to say?”

She swallowed hard and tried to calm herself. Short of convincing him, an impossible task, there was truly no way out.

“It will not make you happy. Not like you think.”

“Ha! Presumptuous for you to speak as such. It is not about my happiness, it has never been. It is about you. It is about what the world has done to you. I owe you that much,” his voice had a particularly uncomfortable gravity to it. A deepness of tone not often heard.

“But this is not what I want,” she said with as much force as she could manage.

A laugh spilled from him, “Oh you misunderstand, you are not the you I speak of,” and then he came to kneel beside her one last time.

His hands moving her to where he wanted, thumb brushing up her arm in concentration and how she wished he would pick her up and carry her from this place. That night after their hunt when he had offered to spirit her away and never look back. Had he been happy with her then? With Willow?

“Was it ever I you cared about?”

He tipped her head back by her chin, “Do not ask stupid questions,” which was as much an answer as anything.

She stared hard at him, tried to will him to stare back.

“I cared about you,” she said.

It stopped him. His eyes closed and he took a slow, deliberate breath.

“None of that matters now,” and then he stood and walked away.

She stared at the ceiling in the position he had placed her before closing her eyes and feeling the magic light up the room around them.

Chapter Text

Fleeting moments of consciousness. That was what she was left with. The magic burned her from the inside out, reached into her chest and pulled out everything that made her. A fathomless void where her heart may once have been. A subtle flickering flame at the edge of a long, dark tunnel.

You have erred gravely in your judgement.

                                                                                                                                           And who better to decide than the arbiter himself?

                                                                                                                                            Made a decision on how best to

                                                                                                                                            punish me have you?

This mortal is nothing but an idle fancy, distracting you

from duty. Entertain yourself if you must but do not forget to

whom you belong.

                                                                                                                                            Do you think I could forget such a thing? Seared into

                                                                                                                                               my very being.

You make a mockery of our Holy vocation.

                                                                                                                                            Elidibus, my darling, if ever there were a word for 

                                                                                                                                               the work we do Holy it would not be.

A very long silence.

You are tired. I understand.

A scoff.

When your time has been served in this life, perhaps he may 

grant you reprieve.

                                                                                                                                      Ha! I require no such reprieve, for I am on the cusp of

                                                                                                                                        our salvation. This mortal is more important than your failing 

                                                                                                                                        mind could ever comprehend. For she was once the best of us.

I do not remember.

                                                                                                                                       I know.

Her body swung to the air suddenly. Hands reaching under her, holding her as though she were a frail thing. And she was. She felt as though she were nothing, easily blown away by the slightest breeze. 

Then I will trust in you, Emet-Selch. Do not fail us.

A rush of warm aether as the other voice in the room suddenly disappeared.

                                                                                                                                 As if I’d any choice.

Time passed then, with no events to mark it. Drifting in and out but it was not sleep, not really. Some half way of being. Caught between who she was and who she had been. Memories of another time fluttered in and out of her mind like the tide and she could no longer remember to where she belonged.

The golden flame that flickered in the void grew larger at times, and if she concentrated she could will it to swell. Reach out her hand and feel the heat of the fire. And this was her existence for moments, hours, days. Until all at once she returned to the living.

It was to a room she did not recognize. Similar in size to the one that had belonged to her in the palace though decidedly more comfortable. She tried her best to lean forward, test her strength now that she was free of his suffocating aether. But as she did so her body seemed to drop beneath her. Bed spinning in a kind of vertigo she had never experienced before. She forced herself to her back just to quell it and grit her teeth in frustration.

No less trapped than she had been before and still just as weak. The smell of burning aether lingering in the air or was it her? She felt as if every part of her aetherial system had been seared to oblivion and yet she could not give in. With a sound of pain she forced herself forward again, pushing past the vertigo to stand on shaking legs. 

A step and then another, pushing to the door in the distance. And as she opened it someone snatched her wrist, feeble balance disrupted and an arm around her waist before she could fall to her knees. 

“Boundless will and endless ignorance,” said Emet-Selch as she tried limply to pull away, “That is what you are,” and then he hoisted her back into her arms.

She dug her claws into his shoulder, “Release me.”

A heavy sigh as he placed her back into the bed, “I am surprised you can speak. But I am certain it will not last.” 

It was a struggle to right herself again but still she did, “You will not break me.”

“You misunderstand. This is not about breaking, it is about fixing what is broken,” he stood staring down his nose at her as he often did. Arms crossed but not quite as leisurely as he had been before. A thrumming tension in his body language. “You would do well to give in.”

“No,” she growled.

“Have it your way,” he shrugged and reached down to place a warm hand against her forehead.

She had little time to pull away before the sleep spell took effect and she was thrown into the pit of her mind once again.

The endless dark expanse lay in front of her. She struggled to hold on to what made her. Her friends, her family. Her hopes and dreams. The darkness snapped its jaws at her, a terror from which there was no escape. Save for the golden flame that flickered in her heart, offering comfort, offering reprieve.

But still the darkness poured inside; cracking, breaking. Until she awoke once again. This time with a scream.

She struggled against the weight that held her down, the feeling as though everything was shattering inside her. All she could see was the darkness, an ebb and flow like an unholy tide. But through its writhing mass she saw a man, deep lines of concentration in his face. Eyes bright and frightening.

In futility she tried to force her body to move, a sluggish realization that it was he who held her down. He who’s body straddled her smaller one in an effort to keep her there. He made a sharp tsking sound and it grounded her further to reality, “If you do not allow me to work you will die.”

It stilled her, it made her stare at him wide eyed as his palm pressed flat against her ribs. 

“Why,” she croaked.

“In all your fruitless fighting you have unwittingly torn apart your soul. Were you to simply give in,” then a short sigh, “Ah but I waste my breath. Now, stay still.”

She did so, feeling the warmth of his aether in her chest. As though a practiced surgeon stitching up all the frayed parts of his soul. Perhaps it was her delirium but the act was comforting, she felt better than she had these past few days. 

It was quiet in the room. Nothing but a gentle humming of aether. His hand was a light pressure against her chest, taking great care not to harm a body that was not hers. She studied his face, mouth pulled back in an almost snarl, brow heavy, eyes tired. A look of deep concentration as he saw not her but every part inside.

He hit a snag, a knot in her unruly aether and she cried out again.

He shushed her and she could not discern if it was an act of comfort or a demand.

“Where are we?” she asked when the pain subsided.

“I do not see why it should matter,” he replied without looking away from his work. There was another long silence before he decided to answer, “A place of my own making. Privacy is so rarely afforded to those in power.”

“What was your plan? If you succeeded?” the words were difficult to force from her mind into her mouth. Slow as the rest of her.

“There is no uncertainty in this equation though you may wish otherwise. When you return you will serve by my side as an equal. And together we will bring this world to rights,” he spoke it as a simple matter and then finally pulled back from her soul.

As his aether untangled from hers she suddenly felt colder for it, despite whatever potent darkness he was made of it had been a great comfort. He took a deep breath atop her, unwinding from the feeling and effort, though he hesitated to move from where his body held down her own.

“She was the best of us,” he bowed his head, suddenly lost to memory, “We may have had our disagreements. But I am certain that she will see the sense in our solution,” his sharp eyes opened to match hers, “It is a mercy we do. You suffer, all of you. Disease, famine, war; such things would never be known when the world was whole.”

Finally he pulled himself from her waist, stood and dropped his shoulders as though a weight compounded onto his person.

“I will return tonight,” he stated without looking back, “Do try not to disappoint me.”

He looked at her with dark across his face and a heavy brow, studying her soul intently before finally turning to leave.

A feeling of cold loneliness overwhelmed her and wait, stay came to her mouth but she bit her tongue. She forced them back down her throat because they were not her own. She was terrified of him. A creature of darkness who knew only pain, who knew only how to suffuse such pain onto others. He would show her no mercy because he did not know it by its definition. To kill was to be merciful, to end the world would be its greatest act. There were no more words that could convince him.

And yet she was helpless to the feeling. She had cared for him once. Cared for him many times. Could she not do so again?

She did not dream this time. She did nothing but forget. Slipping through her like sand in an hourglass, names and faces. All the times the scions made her laugh. Her time among the conjurer’s guild. The death of her father.

Breathe.

That is it, yes.

Her eyes opened to the man whom she loved. He was looking at her with scrutiny, kneeled beside her bed. Soulsight, that is what he had. It always lit up his eyes in that way.

She had missed him.

Her hand cupped his cheek, leaned to press her lips to his and the way his entire body tightened to a sharp point surprised her. She thought he may pull away at first before he relaxed into her mouth and gave back. His own hand entwined in her fingers on his cheek and breath left his lungs slow. As if some flood of relief.

He was the one to pull back, to search her face and his eyes were bright again. He was so much older than she remembered, but then again she could not recall where she’d seen him before.

“How fares your memory?” he asked, “Let us start with the simplest of questions. Can you recall a name? Yours? Or mine?”

She labored to pull herself to a sitting position. A heaviness to her body that made everything difficult. He watched, offering a hand neither to help nor hinder her. Settled forward she felt much better but still offered him a pitying smile.

“I am afraid I cannot recall much of anything. Though I feel you are very important to me,” her voice light and airy.

“Yes,” he muttered, “I suppose our bond would remain no matter the circumstances,” then he stood, the full height of his person more intimidating than a man kneeled to meet her.

“Will you tell me?” she asked, turning her head up to him.

“I am afraid I cannot,” a smile meant to placate her, “But I am certain it will return in time.”

“Something terrible has happened,” she said, staring at the clothes on her body, the room she resided in. An ominous feeling at the back of her mind that she could not explain.

“Do not linger on such thoughts. You must only focus on your recovery. I will do my best to aid you in whatever way I can.”

“Thank you. That is kind,” she said of the offer.

He made a snorting sound, a kind of subtle disagreement. Disgusted at the words as though she had insulted him and then waved her off to leave.

It was a short time before he returned, urging her to eat and drink. That it would heal her mind and body. Though as she did he was strange company, refusing any food himself and watching her as though he expected something.

“How are you feeling?” he asked when his observations seemed sufficient. “I had not intended for the process to be quite so invasive,” there is a flicker of his gaze as he does so, a hesitation to look her in the eyes.

“You’ve done something to me?”

“Only with the best of intentions,” again a deep timbre which said he was insulted. She did not know what she was doing wrong.

He sighed and she could see he was trying to force the feeling away, he was trying to be kind to her, “I will stay the night, if you wish.”

She thought about it, about how lonely the room had felt when he’d left, “Yes, I’d like that.”

Then she offered him a smile and for the first time since she had awoken he did smile back. A small thing, difficult to coerce from such a sharp expression. Though she felt it was genuine.

His hand reached out to clasp hers gently, “Good.”

But sleep proved only a boon to her. Darkness allowing her to reach for the flickering flame once more. Allowing to recall her stolen memories. 

Willow awoke to a solid body beside her. His hands gently rested atop his chest, looking as though sleep brought him no comfort. She felt much stronger than before, unwittingly improved by his food and drink, though escaping would still prove challenging.

The thought of earlier brought with it an uncomfortable fear. The memories were hazy still but the words had been her own, spoken from her mouth. And yet it felt nothing like her. She needed to be free or she risked losing herself entirely.

Softly she sat up while staring at him all the while. And then ever so slowly she set her feet upon the ground. The man who had been beside her didn’t stir and she wondered if he’d slept at all since that day. When at last she reached the door she opened it slowly to reveal Solus’ once private office. She had been here many times before and never had there been a door to another room. Were the Ascians truly capable of creating something from nothing? So large a feat, so potent a magic.

She barely heard a sound behind her before his arms wrenched around her body. It set her heart racing in her throat, a pathetic sound in her mouth.

“Damn woman,” he said with blazing eyes, reading her soul for who and what it was, “Must I tie you down?”

“My name is Willow Yen,” she shouted of his question earlier, struggling against the strength of his grip.

“Spiteful,” he hissed, “Do you truly fight so hard for one pathetic life when you may save so many more?”

“It is my pathetic life,” she spat in return.

“And it means nothing ,” with her squirming he struggled to pull her back and she regretted that she was still too weak to fight properly.

He hefted her onto the bed, using weight against her as he so liked to do. If only she could reach her aether, cast a spell to defend herself. Years worth of rage sat restless in her chest and she wished only to be free.

“Kill me then, because I will never give you what you want,” the words fell from her mouth in wrath as his hands gripped harshly around her wrists. “I almost wish that you would. Just so that I may be free of this terror. You torture me Emet-Selch and you care nothing for my pain.”

His hand then clamped around her jaw, bruising roughly as he forced his own face close enough that she felt hot frantic breathing.

“Would that I could exchange your miserable life for hers. How much easier it would be,” he spat, his teeth too close to hers and she tried in vain to turn her head. 

She was desperate to hold onto the anger and rage and bite back the tears in her eyes at so much misery, so much fear.

“Pitiful thing, as if your tears could move me,” he said as he watched them gather at her lashes, “I have spent twelve long eons watching your miserable kind. You will coerce no sympathy from me with your mortal mewling.”

She gave no response, closing her eyes and averting her gaze, “You will not have me Emet-Selch. You must know this.”

“We will see.”

And the world went dark.

Chapter Text

There was love in him. She had seen it. She had felt it in his mouth and in his hands. It burned him up, set him on fire until he was only a man made of ashes. A ghost ever working towards annihilation. But this too. He did for love.

And though she knew his soul inside her, the other half of her own, coerced sympathy. She knew too that she would feel it despite the fact. If she were Willow if he were Emet-Selch. If they had never met in another life. She would still feel sorry for him.

She thought about this, barefoot in the cold Garlean hallways. Pushing herself from Solus’ dimly lit private office, a secret they once shared. She thought about how that fire burned her too. How he couldn’t help it to be so. He had lived a life apart from her an eon and an eon and an eon and now beside her again he had no other way to be. But a man on fire.

The halls were quiet, eerily so. Not even a maidservant hurrying to ready the rooms for tomorrows waking. It must truly be the dead of night then.

When she had awoken she’d no sense of time, no sense of how long she had been gone for. Gone from her own body with no memory of what came before. But it was hers once again, and she would not squander what time she had been given.

Emet-Selch was conspicuously missing from either the office or her bedroom. She could only assume he still had duties to attend to, an image to keep if only for as long as it took for her to be his again. And then, would he burn all of this too? His nation built from nothing? His people made to serve?

“Willow?” a voice like a hushed whisper and she turned to see Julia. She looked sleepless, blonde hair in a wayward braid, tired eyes, “I’d thought you dead.”

Willow’s brow pinched in concern, a thought of what Emet-Selch would do to her if he found them here.

“You need to leave,” she said, “It isn’t safe here, the Emperor is not who you think he is.”

“Did he hurt you?” she said, all concern.

“Julia,” she said and she took the girl’s hands in hers, “I am an Eorzean spy. The Emperor is not Garlean, nor is he one of us. He is not of this world.”

“A spy? Not of this world? Whatever do you mean?” she asked, terrified.

“No one is safe here, not even the Garleans. Please, I know you have no reason to believe me but you must take your family and run.”

She shook her head, “I cannot simply leave, my whole life is here and he- he would never allow it. Willow,” she said again, “What did he do to you?”

Willow closed her eyes and took a breath. At risk of recounting everything that had happened, at risk of breaking, of her legs giving way beneath her, she simply said, “I do not know.”

Julia squeezed her hands, “Come away with us then. You cannot stay here.”

“No. I cannot come with you, you will never be safe,” Willow replied, “I will be alright, please,you must go. Warn whomever you can, it is no longer safe in Garlemald.”

“What are you ladies gossiping about?” chimed a voice. He seemed to appear from nowhere, and given what Willow knew about him now he may well have.

She stood in front of Julia instinctually. The elezen growing tense in his presence.

“Oh please , that heroic front will gain you nothing here. Were I to wish her dead she simply would be. I have only come to bargain. You’d like that wouldn’t you? A good middle ground in which peace is found for some? Not all, but then that doesn’t matter to you does it,” he took a step towards them. Languid, dramatic. “I will spare your girl, and her family. They may even have my aid in escaping this wretched country should you come with me.”

“No,” Julia said, and the force with which it came out seemed to surprise her, “I won’t let you hurt her.”

Willow turned to look at her pleadingly, willing her to be quiet but Emet-Selch only pouted. 

“I would be moved by the companionship which you’ve found yourself but you did always have a knack for attracting the mild mannered,” he did not stop, step upon step until at last he reached them. He leered over Willow to address her companion better, “Beg that she agrees, little thing, or I will crush you under heel with the rest of your ilk,” and then to Willow herself, “I am being egregiously kind you know. I am more than capable of picking you up right now, carrying you back over my shoulder like the naughty creature you are.”

“Why?” she growled.

“Call me a fool but I’d hoped it might inspire a willingness to serve. If I spare those you love than you will have no choice but to give what I love back to me,” then he smiled, manic in the dim lighting and far too close. “Well?”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Willow,” Julia protested behind her.

“My word is my oath, my dear. It has always been so. Ultimatums and violence are such dirty things, I would rather it not come to that.”

She had never expected she would escape without his knowledge, but if Julia and the other innocents caught in the crossfire could be spared, then perhaps some good had come from it after all.

Emet-Selch held out a gloved hand and she took it. Her face turned to meet Julia’s pleading eyes.

“Stay safe,” she said, “And don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright.”

He did not let go of her hand, but it was not about affection. He wanted to be certain she would not run again.

“Did you think she would harbor you to safety? Did you imagine she would hide you away from the great and terrible Emperor? Her handmaidens do like to view me as such,” he began.

Willow almost scoffed, as if such views were inherently false. She didn’t respond which seemed just as agreeable to him, happy enough to just hear himself talk.

“Had I known your penchant for self sacrifice yet persisted in this form I may have used it to my advantage sooner,” he spoke with his hand firmly around hers, “Perhaps you will be more agreeable if you believe your suffering to be for the betterment of others. “

She continued to follow in silence. And he did not press her for more. Down the halls and up the stairs. Through the doorways and into her prison once more. 

“Where were you?” she finally asked and he let go of her hand. Turned to address her fully.

The sardonic smile he met her with did not portray pleasure at the question, “I am still a married man you know, and a political leader besides, I cannot spend every waking moment by your side much as you may wish it.”

Willow snorted indignantly, “Your wife still lives then.”

His smile turned frown, “You think me a killer?”

“Is that not your plan?”

“I do not slaughter for the thrill of it. Death of a personal nature, only out of absolute necessity. It is grim business,” his entire face was frowning now, shadows cast in the exaggeration of it

“And yet you would condemn the death of a star’s worth of mortal lives? That is not grim business in your mind,” she replied, anger thrumming under her skin. 

“Presumptious and ignorant,” he snarled, “I will entertain you no more.”

“So you would turn me away? Silence me rather than help me understand?” she begged, her pleading eyes met with disdain.

Emet-Selch gave a single mirthless laugh, “And how would I do so? How could you who has lived but one fragile life ever hope to understand? It is a waste of energy,” he spat, and then he gripped her wrist, forcing her to the bed, “I am through with begging fate, I will no longer plead on my knees to see reason. To live among you. To know you. I will be the arbiter if fate will proffer me no solution. I will be the arbiter of our will, of our love,” he looked away at this. Some sudden feeling overtaking him. Some rush of emotion too much to bare. Nails dug into his palm, a trembling under his skin, “You need only give in. And then I promise,” he looked to her, “You will understand.”

Something. Something just below his words. Begging still, on his knees, for some solution. There was a part of him that wondered, she realized, if this was eternity. And he fought it with a weary heart, fought to continue for the sake of his god. Of his people. 

He was a tower over her and she stood if only to cut the distance slightly. Her hands reached up to cup his face, feel the tension in his trembling jaw. His eyes closed, long lashes brushing pale skin. As if he could pretend for just a moment. And then she closed the gap between, lifted herself so that her lips may touch his. And when he kissed it hurt. It ached between her ribs though he himself was gentle. 

It was brief. He pulled back, raised himself to his full height and regarded her with disdain.

“Rest and we will try again,” he commanded quietly.

“No,” she replied in the same tone.

“No?” he asked, the fire in him ever refusing to die.

“I am not tired.”

“Easily remedied,” and when he reached his arm down she grabbed it, gripped his wrist hard as she had his and the touch was still enough to stop him.

“Allow me to wake just a moment more, I cannot bear to sleep again.”

“And why should I cater to the whims of a ghost? You are already dead as far as I am concerned,” he asked in a droll manner.

“I will not run,” she looked to him steady, knowing he would always be at an advantage, “My word is my oath as well,” and the furrowed brow she met him with seemed to be convincing. He softened and leaned back from her. “I only wish to stretch my legs, to be free of this room. And I wish to hear about her.”

A laugh that came out in a huff of breath, “You think I would allow you the secret of her person? Of her desires, her loves? You do not deserve such precious things.”

Willow frowned, “If you share her love, does it not stand that she lives on in some way.”

“ No ,” he growled bitterly.

She sighed quietly, “At least allow me to stretch my legs then.”

“I have afforded you courtesy enough as it is but let it never be said I am not a giving man,” he looked tired as he spoke. As if any argument would just take energy he did not have, “Come,” he reached his hand for her again and when she took it they were both cloaked in a rush of dark aether, soon transported to the warmth and life of the greenhouse.

His lithe grip released her immediately but he did not allow her to stray. Following her like some grim shadow as she made her way through the labyrinth of plant life. 

“This place is a monument to her,” she spoke low, “It is beautiful.”

“I am not half as talented with flora creation as she, though I try,” he offered, something like conversation.

She turned behind to him, smiled. He did not smile back.

“You hope to warm my heart do you?” he scoffed, “You should know I have lived in the cold of this damned country for far too long. Even were I to desire it, I can no longer feel love for your kind.”

“Did you once?”

He looked to the side and he laughed, laughed . Short like the thought was funny.

“Loneliness drives us to seek solace in others. No matter how frail and fragile they may be. But I have learned my lesson a thousand times over. I need no more reminder in the futility of mortal life.”

“Easier to hurt than to love?”

“You simplify it in a way that mindlessly villainizes my motivations. I do not take this path because it is easy. Nothing I or my brethren have done has been easy.”

She stared at him once before continuing her walk through the brush, “I know.”

She did not know. She did not understand. But perhaps that was the crux of the matter, she could never understand because she had not lived it. And he could never understand because it was all he knew.

Their walk continued in silence. At last at the center of the maze, staring at the great tree blooming as though early spring despite the window’s snowfall. Willow stared at it, imagined what he had said when first he’d showed her. The desperation with which his teeth had found her neck. The touch, the longing. Behind her he was quiet, ceased the trembling under his skin, controlled himself once more. He desired the truth of her now as he always had.

“Had enough?” he asked finally, a tired timbre to his tone.

“No,” she answered, “I do not think I will ever have enough of this world.”

He huffed a sigh, “You will enjoy your home far better I will assure you, and all of this suffering will be lost to you. Is that not preferable to yet more conflict? More misery?”

There was such belief in his words, such fervent pragmatism.

And she smiled again as he came to her, “I think I’ll always miss it. You miss your home don’t you?”

“Do not speak that way,” he whispered and his hand came out to touch her forehead gently, “It will all be over soon,” and then she fell gently into his arms.

Chapter Text

A sensation like drowning. Drawn ever deeper into the depths of her mind, light fading, body heavy. Flooded with memories lost of a time long before her own. 

“There you are my Hades.”

“When we are within the halls of the convocation, I am Emet-Selch to you.”

“Ah, my dear, darling, Hades.”

“Truly insufferable.”

Waves of remembrance lapping at her mind like a warm tide. She was tired of fighting, tired of feeling lost. And here the memories offered truth, offered her a freedom she had begun to ache for. And a name. Many names, long forgotten.

“Adrastea promise me this-”

“Promise I will do nothing foolish? I am the convocations wayward jester, to not do something foolish would be an embarrassment to my station.”

“I rescind my pleas then, and hope you do many foolish things and suffer for them.”

Laughter like chimes. A blossoming feeling of familiarity.

Beneath the tide a shimmering light. A thought that was unmistakable hers though she did not recognize it.

Y o u     I     W e     must   f r e e    him of    his   D a r k n e s s

          This    Z O D I A R K    it   rots his mind     it claims his heart

And another thought. Still her own.

           But what he has done. ‘Twas not all by Zodiark’s hand. 

Yes. He has turned the path of d a r k n e s s. 

         And committed many a sin of his own volition. He is a terrible man, what he had been 

                   would ache for who he has become.

But still.

He is   m i n e    y o u r s     o u r s.

A conversation, wrapped in circles around her mind.

How do we free him?

      The darkness fears the light. W e   need only look inside o u r s e l v e s 

And have F A I T H.

Then the fog cleared and Willow Yen the girl in her age returned to her body. Aware of the bed beneath her and the heaviness of her limbs. Alone and cold she sat forward and felt a burning light within her chest. 

This soul. Her soul. It stayed with her still, willing to help her take the final steps.

It was a rush of warmth that overtook her, as though opening the door to someone dear. She felt the subtleness of aether envelope her person, dim her vision. And she walked with grace through the doorway.

He stood at the window to his office. Snow falling softly outside and he lost to it. Mind easily drawn to the past, exhausted by duty and by time. She stood just a moment before she spoke his name.

“Hades,” she crooned like a warm tide in the freezing cold of the room.

It shattered him. He turned to gaze at her form and his eyes were pleading. Desperate for the moment to be real but terrified as well. Terrified that she would see him, and know at once what he had done.

“Adrastea,” fell from his mouth in a pitious way. Pleading agony and he would not take one step closer to her.

She moved to close the distance. Graceful steps and she saw the fear turn to panic. Without thought his body moved away from her. She outstretched her hand, asking him closer but not demanding.

“Is this not what you desired my love?”

“I-” and he could coax no more words from his tongue, nothing but a quiet manic laugh. Unsure of what he wanted, unsure of what he needed. 

She took advantage, placing her hand on his shoulder and feeling him breath in. Felt every bit of careful control he had gained over so much terror and torment come undone. Felt him try desperately to get lungs to work behind aching ribs. Her hand twisted under his hair and coaxed his head to her and it took no force to see him leaned to her shoulder, to see every bit of weight that he held upon his back crush him entirely.

It must have been the whole of it. Her touch, her visage, the sound of her voice he had long forgotten. Even the smell of her hair like wildflowers. It pulled from him a ragged sound, a man unable to breath for how the feeling drowned him. Grasping at her back as if he would never let her go again. 

“Oh my dear Hades,” she whispered as he shivered in her arms, “Such suffering you have endured,” and she let the words linger, let him languish in her comfort before saying, “But such suffering you have sown in others. I weep for what the world has done to you.”

His nails have dug into her spine, he would sooner tear her apart than let her leave now.

“You know I cannot stay,” she whispered over his back, and even here in this form there was a burning in her throat, a dampness in her eyes.

“I know,” he choked, “I have always known.”

His body untangled itself from hers, finally staring at her fully formed. Eyes tracing every inch of her body, memorizing it so that he may keep it in his heart for however long his arduous path continued, “But to see you again,” came from him like a breath leaving his lungs.

“I love you Hades.”

“I miss you,” he returned, his eyes closed, cheeks still damp with tears, “I miss them all with such fervor I cannot breathe, I cannot think,” the admission poured from him in a ragged breath. Things he had told no one for an eternity, “It has taken all my strength to see every day anew. To do what I must for the sake of us.”

She took both his hands in hers and his fingers twisted between them, squeezed hard.

But it was gone too soon. The body that enveloped the girl that was Willow faded and she was left with a man who ripped from her grasp faster than she could stop him.

“ No! ” he cried vehemently, “She is gone. She is gone again she has left and only I remain, only I,” he took a step back and Willow saw how he was unsteady, his legs gave out and his palms grasped against the front of his desk desperately. Leaning hard if only to keep upright.

She did not make a motion to stop him. Let him panic and flounder like a terrified animal, knew that in this state he was dangerous. But it was disturbing, to watch the man drown, to watch him desperately grasp at something he knew he would never have again. The agony in his expression made her sick, made her want to hold him.

His breath came in short stuttered gasps before finally she came to him, risked her hand on his arm and the touch, even if not who she was before, still grounded him. Forced his eyes to find hers, for him to put a semblance of himself back together.

“It is you,” he spat, “Body too weak to hold a form as full as hers. She will not receive less than a soul rejoined, a world unsundered.”

Her fingers stroked down his arm, “Hades..” she began and he ripped from her wildly.

“Do not speak to me thus, my name is not fit for a tongue such as yours,” he snarled, his body leaned hard behind him against the desk now, “And to think I shared my bed with you and yours. When she was just beyond, when she was within reach. I must try again, I must-”

“Hades,” she said again, a man lost to a fit of mania.

“What did I say of my name,” he was done snarling, it fell from his mouth broken. Though he desperately wished otherwise his name held power. The power of memory, a name unspoken for eons, last said as he pleaded for her to stay.

“Hades.”

Hair fell over his yellow eyes, bright with tears still unfallen. He looked at her and he was quiet.

“Adrastea has left to me a gift. The power to ease your burden, the power to free you.”

His brow pinched together, such a funny look on a man she had once been so terrified of. In this moment he looked small, vulnerable. But despite all of this he was still an Ascian. She could force nothing on him that he did not concede to, and so she held out her hand.

“But I am afraid I must ask you to endure once more.”

He met her with a pitious smile, “What I have endured for you I would endure a thousand times over. What I have done for you I would do again. Bloodied my hands, sharpened my teeth,” his head turned away from her, smile falling, “And what was it for. Every time I am left alone just the same.”

“Not alone,” she said quietly, “I am here. I am here with you Hades.”

A deep and heavy breath, let out slow lest he break once more, “So you are.”

Her hand still open to him but he hesitated in taking it.

“She means to free me from Him, hm?” he asked, “I do not doubt it is within her power,” another pause before he laughed to himself, “A way out. In my darkest moments how I prayed,” then he looked at her resolutely and he took her hand, she wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed, “Do it then. Before I change my mind.”

Despite it all. Despite what he had done, the damage he had caused to her world, to her kind. There was a part of her that yet ached for him. Sympathy. She knew it was not only the girl she shared her soul with that felt this way, for they were one and the same. Staring at a man so full of love it had ruined him. It had caused him to hate and hurt.

And so she said, “I am sorry,” and she kissed him and she drove the dagger of light through his heart.

The sound that wrenched from him was like nothing she had heard him utter before. Not like when she had killed his flesh in the fiery wreckage, not like when she had spilled the blood of a body he did not own. This was true pain, searing every limb with the cleansing fire of light. Ripping out the mark of an ancient and powerful god who had stained his soul with a curse of immortality. And it tore from his throat; a snarling, haunting sound behind his teeth.

In her arms his body seized, every muscle tight with fiery pain. Unable to even breath before his form went slack against her. He was heavy and she struggled to set him safely to the floor. 

She felt the warmth in her chest fade gently, all of its power called upon to rip the darkness from his soul. And again she felt weak, falling gently to her knees, her hand on the back of the man collapsed. She did not know what came next, did not know if to him this was true freedom or simply a means to an end. 

Her vision began to dim, every ounce of gathered strength fading from days before and with a gentle breath, she fell beside him.

Chapter Text

She had no way of knowing how much time had passed. So much of it spent sleeping and waking in a cycle, trapped in a cold and windowless room.

But this time the waking was different. There was a warm familiarity about it and when at last she opened her eyes it was to the smell of the rising stones, a room she had slept in many times out of necessity. Long nights with the scions leading to her collapsing in any bed she could find. She heard a gasp beside her and slowly pulled forward.

“Gods,” Alisaie breathed, “That bastard wasn’t lying.”

As at last her vision cleared and memories of what seemed moments before returned she could only utter, “Where is he?”

Alisaie pursed her lips, seeming somewhat disappointed by the words and more nervous to answer.

“I don’t know,” but there was a shift to her eyes that said there was more to the statement. “He said to convey his gratitude and then he left.”

“He left?” she choked.

“Willow. He didn’t look well. He told me what happened-”

“I removed his tempering,” Willow began, before she could finish, “Why wouldn’t he stay.”

“I think he wanted to,” Alisaie breathed through her nose, clearly fumbling at an explanation. Clearly unable to understand the depth of their relationship, “Willow I think he was dying.”

“What?” she choked, brow furrowed, every muscle in her body seized, “That cannot be, I don’t understand.”

“Wait,” Alisaie argued as she stood, perhaps worrying she would be to weak to do so.

But her worries were unfounded, for she felt stronger than she had in ages. She was through the door and the younger girl quickly behind her.

“Wait,” she urged again, “Not but half a bell’s time before the Emperor shows up at our door, the bloody emperor of Garlemald carrying your body, and I’ve hardly been afforded an explanation for any of it. Now you expect me to let you leave? What happened, what did he do to you?”

“I promise, I’ll explain everything. We’ll explain everything,” she added quickly.

“Willow-” Alisaie began again but the other girl was already out the door. She seemed resigned to allow it only calling out, “He couldn’t have gone far. Looking like that.”

He wanted to die alone. That was Alisaie’s implication. That like a wounded animal he had run from her to die in peace. But when she looked for him she saw that beating thread as she once had within his office. The practical man, Solus, Emet-Selch, wanted to die alone.

Hades wanted her to find him.

Against a cloudless sky the ancient crystal tower fairly gleamed. And he, more ancient than even the spire itself, sat at its feet. His head raised when he saw her and his voice echoed across the walls.

“I had never thought to see this place again,” a thoughtful pause, “I had always found it a mockery of the past, but now.” She grew closer to him and his voice softened, “I suppose I can see its beauty.”

At this distance it was easy to see what Alisaie herself had seen. Hades leaned forward. Pale, labored breathing, a thin sheen of sweat across his brow. All signs that his body was failing him. 

“Hades,” she spoke sadly.

“Ah,” he said loftily, “I never tire of hearing that name.”

She leaned in front of him, brow furrowed in despair, “Does he still call to you?”

“No,” he replied in a tight whisper, “No, my dear. You were quite successful, and I am thoroughly impressed,” he leaned back, making a sound of effort, “Though I should know better than to doubt you.”

“I don’t understand,” she said and her hand went to brush his cheek.

His own hand followed, tying their fingers together. 

“What is to be understood? There is a price to freedom. A debt to be paid,” a dry choking laugh, “A wretch like me has no recourse but to be put down like a dog.”

“I thought she would save you,” she said, knot burning in her throat, tears beginning to gather in her lashes.

“She did,” he affirmed. 

“No,” she replied hushed and tried to choke back a cry.

He shushed her, pulling her hand from his face to better have her focus. Yellow eyes fading but still demanding of her attention, “None of this. Do not cry for me.”

Her head shook slowly before she pushed into him, wrapping arms around his back and forcing him to lean forward. A soft breath left him before he returned the gesture.

“You are an incredible woman,” he said, “You deserve to live your life unburdened by a soul such as mine. I have seen too much, done too much to be worthy of your affection. So you have freed me, so you must free yourself.”

“Do you truly believe that?” she asked, pulling back, “That souls such as ours will ever be free of each other?”

There was a ghost of a smile that crossed his mouth, as much of an answer as anything. For how long had he desperately tried to free himself of the bond between them only to feel it more keenly with each attempt. 

He ceded her point, gave up the front that there may be a world without him, and said instead, “Then I am truly sorry for that which you must bear.”

“Stupid man,” she said of him, of all of it.

He gave a look of amusement, always at any jab she may give him, but it soon devolved into a fit of coughing and she watched him turn his head and spit white bile onto the cold crystal floor. 

His body no longer sustained by Zodiark could not balance the overabundance of light. 

“There’s still a chance,” she began, not done bargaining, “We have many scholars among the scions, healers more talented than myself,” but as she stood, to run for help, to desperately beg, he grabbed her hand.

“No,” he said, a finite and demanding statement, “Stay.”

He knew he did not have long left and there was a tinge of desperation in his own eyes as they watched her. He did not want to die without her by his side.

There was a beat of silence before anger and bargaining and sadness went out of her mind and she said only, “Alright.”

His grip fell loose from her, too much energy to hold it any longer and his head leaned back against the coolness of the tower’s walls. Willow eased herself beside him, setting her hand over his, only a flicker of a gaze in her direction said he appreciated it.

“I wish you could’ve seen it,” he said quietly, “Our city in its splendor.”

“From a time long past?”

“So, so very long,” he agreed with a lightness to his tone and a short laugh that only wracked between his ribs once again. When he caught his breath, he sighed, “Fate. Cruel thing.” Something he had said before, perhaps many times to himself over the eons.

Her thumb traced the top of his hand and he turned it over, lacing his fingers between hers and squeezing. 

“I will see you again,” she said.

His head turned lazily to her, eyes twinkling with amusement, “How is it you seem so certain?”

She narrowed her eyes, “I will make sure of it.”

A wide smile stretched across his pale features, “I believe you,” he looked back up at the sky, “And you will do so with far more grace than myself, that I believe as well.”

There was no birdsong near the tower’s walls, nothing but an echo of wind between its corridors. The silence was so very reminiscent of death, the cold at her back matching the coldness of the man beside her.

“Well,” he began, as though the thought of death troubled him little, “Until we meet anew then,” he leaned into her without trouble, kissing her gently in a way he never had before. All senseless devouring ferality gone from him. Only a tired and true affection.

Then he leaned into her and closed his eyes. Her hand wrapped around his back, tied into his hair. Each breath against her was slower than the last.

“Until we meet anew,” she agreed before at last he fell asleep beside her. Never to wake again.

She pressed herself against his cheek, hot tears running down the bridge of her nose. She held him and wondered who he might have been so long ago. Who the two of them might have been together. So deep was her grief that she barely saw the flicker of light between them, a clink of stone against glass as though an object was drawn from the void itself. 

She sniffed, picking it up and feeling the warmth in her hand.

Make good on your promise, it whispered to her. And she clutched it tightly within her grasp.