Chapter Text
The creaking door was the only noise in the dark room as Y’shtola entered, the only smell that of burnt flesh and hair. The window let in very little light from this angle, and quickly scanning the room, she easily noticed the bulky form of Harkas huddled in the corner beside the large wooden wardrobe, but first made for the bedside table, taking the brass candle holder that stood upon it. Holding her fingers to the wick, a spark jumped forth, bringing a warm light to life. It served the archon little, but helped her illusion of sight as she re-searched the room. Strewn across the bed Harkas used was her ruined coat, charred leather still reeking and damp with blood. Not far from that was what was once a plain white shirt, now burned black and stained crimson, and leaning against the foot of the bed, standing a lonely vigil as if guarding the room, was her axe. Finally, in the corner, knees to her chest and face buried between them, was the warrior. Now stripped of upper clothing, her wounds were all the clearer. Where her coat had fused to her skin there was now shredded flesh, Harkas having simply torn it away without care, seeping scarlet drops. Large patches of blood red flesh were visable where the outer layers had melted away all along her arm and flank, and the remaining skin around it was warped and blistered. Even her face was marred with seared flesh, patches of scalp now exposed where hair had smouldered away. How she kept going with wounds like these was beyond the archon, but already the bleeding had mostly stopped, save for the fresh tears where leather and skin were once fused. This was her gift, an extrodinary resilience and recovery, but natural regeneration could only do so much. Curiously, the warriors right knuckle was scuffed, fragments of stone embedded within, a finger bent out of line, thin red streaks leading down the back of her hand. And this was her own blood, not that of F’Rhigi, as far as she could tell. The cracked stone on the wall above her gave her source of the new wound, and the earlier thud, though she wished it hadn’t been on the wall of their room.
Cautiously, Y’shtola knelt besides the hunched warrior, bringing her fingers within ilms of the warriors wounds. From here she could hear the Roegadyns hushed breathing, a relieving sign that she was still alive.
“Harkas…” the Archon whispered. “Are you awake?”. There was a painful moment of silence where it almost seemed the warrior was unresponsive, until slowly her head turned, revealing a truly despondent face.
“I thought I said I wanted to be alone?” Harkas tried to sound threatening, but her voice trembled.
“And if that is truly what you wish, then I shall oblige.” Unlike the warrior, Y’shtola’s voice was calm and stern, almost demanding. “But not before these wounds are treated. I trust you’ll co-operate. Or will I have to restrain you?” She maintained eye contact as she gave her command, and for a moment she feared she’d have to follow through on the threat, until Harkas once again hid her face in her knees. Taking this as permission, Y’shtola began her work, closing her eyes as her fingers weaved a soft, pale light that then danced through the air between them. As it melted into the warriors skin, it began to spread over her whole body.
The light soothed Harkas’ agony, and she could feel her body shifting as the magicks re-knitted and regrew skin. Where there were previously tears and bloodied craters, now fresh, smooth skin rose, warped skin twisted and reshaped itself, blisters faded away and the misaligned finger cracked back into place. Like watching time flow backwards, the injuries sealed themselves, new skin weaving itself together, rising from her afflictions until there was not a trace remaining. Even her hair had regrown, strands of light sprouting from her head and trailing for a fulm, before disappating revealing new locks of azure. Within seconds, it was impossible to tell just what had befallen Harkas minutes ago, the warrior looking as smooth as ever, with the exception of a number of scars that adorned her body as they had for years, each with a tale Harkas enjoyed telling, though she was in no mood to do so now. Opening her eyes, Y’shtola admired her handiwork, ensuring that she’d not missed anything.
“And here you feared me becoming a target should our relationship become known.” Y’shtola smirked, trying to cheer up the warrior.
“Because this is so much better.” Came the muffled response. Gradually, Harkas turned her head once more to stare back at the archon. “because if this is what an Ally will do to get rid of me, then I can only imagine what an inter-dimensional dark sorcerer will do.” The Archon placed a hand on Harkas’ shoulder, matching eye level as her gaze intensified.
“And when that time comes, I know our foes will find themselves seeking mercy on the underside of your boot.”
“And if they have you?” Harkas posed the question
“Then they only invoke your fullest wrath.”
Harkas fluttered for a moment, a brief flicker of hope that was gone as soon as it appeared.
“Unless I lose control again…Then I’m no better than a rabid dog.” Y’shtola shifted her hand just a little, curling her fingers round the back of the warriors neck.
“You maintained more control than you believe, Harkas.” Her words were soft and encouraging, her stern face softening to a smile, but Harkas scowled and turned away.
“You saw me. He baited me right into his trap. Proved me the savage I am.” She grumbled.
“And you wanted him dead?”
“You heard what he said about Rei. I wanted to tear him limb from limb. Literally.” The warrior gave a deep sigh. “But I knew that would be what he wanted. And you can’t just kill one of the heroes of the realm without consequence. Even if you helped him.” Again, Harkas hid her head in her knees. The archon gave a cheery sneer, lifting her hand and running her dainty fingers through the warriors newly regrown hair, gently stroking her head.
“You’re aware he yet draws breath, aren’t you?”
It took a moment for Harkas to react, lifting her head a few ilms.
“I didn’t kill him? But…everything he said…I lost myself to the beast…” she was mumbling, though Y’shtola picked up every word.
“And even in that unruly state you still restrained yourself. That doesn’t sound like the actions of some vagabond savage, if you ask me. He may have spent years pursuing arcane knowledge, modelling himself a scholar, and yet it all came to nothing.” The Archons words cut through Harkas’ thoughts like a knife. “He may have sought to prove you a beast, but all he achieved was to show your control, even when your worst was brought to bare.”
Y’shtola shuffled herself round, now kneeling in front of the Roegadyn, and even sat straight she still dipped below level with the hunched warrior, who found herself unable to tear herself away from the miqo’te. Her situation wasn’t helped as she felt the dainty fingers brush over her cheeks, gently pressing down, encouraging her to keep staring into the gem-like eyes of her partner.
“But surely you’d be better off with someone better versed in history. Someone…well, smarter.” Harkas still put up some resistance, still sounding unsure of herself. Despite the week together, she still doubted her worthiness. One final smile dismissed her worries.
“I’m better off with whomever I choose to be with.” Slowly, the Archon drew closer, leaning in until their faces were ilms apart, before her voice dropped to a whisper.
“And I have made my choice. I made my choice many moons past.” And with that, she pressed her lips against Harkas’, savouring the feeling as someone who could withstand myriad magicks and blades crumbled at her touch. Both of their eyes drifted shut. She felt the giant hands wrap around her back, trembling, holding her close, and she felt safe. No doubt she’d hear endless teasing from Lyse the next day, but if that was the price she had to pay, she did so willingly.
Moments passed as they were locked together, but eventually, the archon pulled back. More time passed in silence before their eyes began to flutter open, both still desiring the others lips.
“Many moons ago?” Harkas was the one to break the silence, though it took a second for the archon to discern her meaning, tilting her head.
“Ah, you mean my decision?” she sought clarification, and Harkas gave a nod. “Well it wasn’t made with you specifically in mind, if that is what you were inquiring about. Just that when the time came, I would offer my affections to the one I felt right. Does that sate your curiosity?” She had just a hint of a taunt in her voice.
“I guess so. I guess I was hoping that maybe you’d decided on me from the get-go, but I knew that wasn’t the case.” Harkas wore a wry smile. It was clear the events still weighed on her mind, but Y’shtola could tell that she’d alleviated much.
“When I decided is of no concern, only that I did, and that I will stand by you.” The archon made clear that this was the final word, and Harkas relented, her smile easing just a little.
“Thank you, Y’shtola. For all this.” Harkas’ was quiet, and if it wasn’t for the already looming silence, it would’ve been easily drowned out.
“You’ve no need to thank me. I couldn’t leave you in such a state.” Y’shtolas hands slipped down, curling behind the warriors neck and interlinking, heads still only ilms apart. Harkas’ head dipped, breaking the eye contact.
“I mean, not just for the healing. For being here. I’m meant to be some grand hero, some unflinching warrior, but-”
“But you’re still a person.” Harkas couldn’t even finish her sentence before the archon jumped in. “Just remain strong. You have allies to support you, and even should they fail, I shall be there beside you, to catch you should you fall.” Her voice was a gentle singing in Harkas’ ears, and her lips curled into a broader smile. “And regarding your fellow Warriors of Light, two of them have at least given us their approval.” Harkas’ rose up somewhat, leaning back against the wall. No longer hunched over she towered almost two fulms over the kneeling miqo’te, and sighed.
“And how are we going to proceed? Did you ask them to keep it a secret? Or are we playing with our cards on the table, so to speak?” Her question meant it was Y’shtolas turn to look away, looking vaguely embarrassed.
“Had Lyse not been there, then I would have, But I doubt she would remain quiet even if asked, so I felt it a moot point. No doubt she’s already spreading the word.” There was a hint of annoyance in her tone, but it appeared that she had accepted the eventuality, and Harkas sighed once more.
“I suppose I should prepare myself for the inevitable questions, huh?”. She already sounded tired of the inquiries, despite none having arisen, and Y’shtola chuckled in response.
“You ought also to prepare some new garments.” She glanced over at the tattered remains of Harkas’ coat and shirt, and Harkas quickly became aware of her half-nude state, her face turning a vivid red, her hands quickly pulling away from the archon and attempting to cover herself.
“That’s probably a good idea.” She stammered, quickly lifting herself to her feet and moving to the wardrobe. Y’shtola could only smile as she watched Harkas try to hide herself behind the door, her form far too big to properly conceal as she rummaged through, pulling out a plain white tunic and throwing it on.
“I suppose I’ll have to talk to Daseaux tomorrow. See where he gets his armour from.” The wardrobe door groaned closed, and Harkas looked more like a simple villager than a warrior. “Because if this is going to become the standard, I’m going to need more protection. Maybe I can get something more intimidating, too. Make people think twice before attacking.” She mused. She sounded solemn, though she lacked the near hopeless tone she had previously, which was at least some reassurance to Y’shtola.
“I’m glad to see you’re feeling a bit more yourself.”
“Well, it’s hard to stay down too long. He may have said some really rough things, but in the end, he’s the one in jail with a busted face.” She did her best to appear proud and cheery, but it was obvious that she was merely putting on a brave face. “But I’d be lying if I said you weren’t the biggest reason. Chances are I’d have been down and out for days. And the scars I’d have…We’re going to have to find another companion, too. It goes without saying that I’m never going to work with him again. Because if I even have to talk to him ever again, I’d much rather just end him there and then.” a bit more of the heroic bravado arose, but the moment was ruined as Harkas’ stomach growled. Her stoic mood ruined, she rubbed her abdomen. “I suppose I haven’t eaten in a while, either. That whole ordeal may only have lasted a few minutes, but it really takes it out of you.” Y’shtola could only offer a chuckle as she rose to her feet.
“Well then, shall we locate the others and adjourn to the dining halls?”
“You took the words right out of my mouth, then made them sound more eloquent.” Harkas said with a grin, and headed for the door. Y’shtola soon followed suit, finding the door held open by the warrior.
Back out in the hallway, it was still mostly shrouded in shadow. A handful of Ala Mhigan guardsmen still watched the area, a few torches now lit in their sconces on the wall, but for the most part, the warriors main light source was the candle carried by the archon. The scene had been tidied, F’Rhigi had been moved, presumably to the gaol, and no other Scions nor Warriors of Light could be seen. As the door groaned shut the guardsmen looked their way, but upon realising their identities, only offered a salute before returning to their conversation. Together, the pair made their way through the palace. Neither said a word, both had already voiced their prominent concerns earlier, but Harkas felt a hand creep over her own as the archon slipped into her palm, giving the Roegadyns much larger hand a reassuring squeeze, which was quickly returned, Y’shtolas’ hand completely enveloped within the warriors.
The mess hall was simply one of the palaces dining halls, nearest the kitchens, that the resistance had converted, having filled it with extra tables. It still held the decorations and heraldy of Ala Mhigan kings past, paintings and tapestries hanging on the walls, but the floor was littered with small groups of off-duty soldiers taking their meals. The scions had claimed one of the vacant tables, some distance from the other soldiers, hoping for some quiet. Alongside Y’shtola and Harkas were Lyse and Alphinaud. Thankfully, while Lyse would constantly beam at the couple whenever she looked at them and chime in with not-quite-so subtle couple jokes, prompting a number of confused looks from the young elezen, she said nothing about the relationship, leaving him out of the know, at least for the time being.
Time passed quickly, the group discussing plans for Doma, the future of Ala Mhigo, the attack earlier that night, much to Harkas’ chagrin, and just what to do with the now traitorous Warrior of Light. The only conclusion reached was that they’d have to start searching for another Echo-blessed to replace him. Eventually, time came for Alphinaud to return to his duties, and with him went Lyse and Y’shtola, who bade the warrior a goodnight and a subtle “see you tonight” much to the monks delight, leaving Harkas alone. She kept the calm, somewhat cheerful demeanour up right up until the trio vanished from sight, where immediately her face dropped, showing her exhaustion as she turned back to the empty table, wrapping her hands around a steaming mug of tea as she stared into its shimmering surface.
She was soon drifting into daydreams, pictures of her late sister, their last moments together as she held Reisui in her arms, desperately trying to keep her in place as she faded, tiny lights floating away as her aether disappated until there was nothing left to hold. Even her soul crystal was taken by her fairies as they too vanished, leaving Harkas crumpled in the center of the Steps of Faith, a howling mess of a woman. The dreadwyrm Nidhogg was vanquished, his eyes pulled from Estinien, but she felt no joy at the victory. Harkas wondered if her sister would approve her and Y’shtola, of the risk she was taking. No doubt she’d want the warrior to find happiness, and there was no doubt the archon provided just that, but within a week someone had tried to kill her simply because of that. It was possible that if Reisui were still here then the warrior wouldn’t have confessed when she had. But this was pointless posturing. What was done was done, for better or worse. At least she had the archon.
Her daydreams were interrupted suddenly, however, as a tankard thudded down onto the table beside her. Jerking back to reality, her head snapped round and her vision was filled with shining silver plate.
“Y’shtola’s really worked some magic on you, hasn’t she?” came the confidant voice of Daseaux, as he rounded the table and lowered himself onto a bench opposite the warrior. “Not a trace of damage left on you.”. Harkas only responded with an acknowledging grunt as she watched him. He didn’t have his helmet with him, his blonde hair looking almost amber in the torchlight and his chiselled features were accentuated by shadow, and in his hands he held another tankard. “I figured you could use something a bit stronger than tea after this evening. It may not be wine, but this ale isn’t the worst.” He emphasized his point with a swig, his armour lightly clanking. The warrior gave an appreciative smile, one hand leaving her ceramic mug and moving to grasp the handle.
“Thanks. I could really use something to help ease my thoughts.” Her smile turned a little awkward, though she tried her best to mask it.
“I’m not surprised, after all that. How’re you holding up?”
“I could be worse, all things considered.” Harkas tried to sound optimistic, but it was clearly strained. “Y’shtola patched me up pretty good. Both physically and emotionally.” Her answer made the Elezen smirk as he watched her.
“Good to hear she’s treating you well, then. I’d really hope she was, considering tonight’s revelation. That whole…being a couple affair.” Even hearing it caused the warrior to turn a deep red, and she tried to hide her embarrassment behind a gulp of ale. “So, how long have the two of you been together?”
The warriors response was uncharacteristically timid. She kept the tankard in front of her mouth, trying her best to hide her blush.
“It’s been…just over seven moons now. I think tonight’s the eighth since I accidentally confessed.”. Daseaux cocked an eyebrow as he drank, pulling the tankard away briefly.
“Accidentally?” he pried a bit further, and Harkas closed her eyes, frustrated that she kept digging herself deeper.
“Yeah…She was asking me about something, talking about knowing my secret. So when I admitted that I thought I’d fallen in love with her, it turned out she had no idea I felt that strongly about her. She just thought I was smitten.” She paused briefly, gulping down another mouthful of ale to steady herself. “It took her a day to figure out her own thoughts, but…well, you already know the result.” Daseuax chuckled, watching the warrior drown her embarrassment, but quickly his face turned dour.
“I’d be surprised if you saw all this coming, though.” He still looked troubled by the events of the evening.
“Can’t say I ever did. I expected to have to protect her from say, the Garleans. Or the Ascians. Not have someone try to kill me because of her.” Harkas let out a resigned sigh as she lowered her tankard, matching Daseauxs’ stern look. “Least of all another Warrior of Light.”
“I’ve known that Rhigi had his own feelings for Y’shtola, but…Well I didn’t know it’d push him that far.” The warrior tilted her head, curious.
“How long has he sought her?” she asked, and the Elezen pondered for a moment.
“Well, I don’t know when it started, but I know he tried to court her back when we first went to combat Titan. She made her disinterest plain as day, but it didn’t discourage him much. In fact it made him more resolute, if anything. He had this whole plan where he’d return to his tribe after all this was over, with Y’shtola by his side, and claim the title of Nunh. Not much of a chance of that happening now, huh.”
“Well isn’t that too bad for him.” Harkas’ response was dripping sarcasm, prompting an awkward silence between the two, both opting to fill it with a long drink.
It was Daseaux who eventually broke the quiet after looking Harkas up and down.
“I have to say, it’s odd seeing you in garb that…rustic. It doesn’t really suit you, if you ask me.” He sounded a bit more cheerful compared to just prior, enjoying the peasant-dressed Roegadyn.
“Well, the fire kind of ruined my shirt. And my coat, which is annoying, to say the least. I loved that coat.” The warrior sounded a bit glum, lamenting the death of her outfit.
“It was a fine coat, yes. Not a style I’d expect from an axe toting warrior, but it worked.” The elezen nodded in agreement.
“That does remind me, though.” Harkas took advantage of the pause in conversation. “I think it might be time to finally invest in some proper armour.”
“Not a terrible idea, even if you still had your coat.”
“Mm. But I don’t really just want any old suit of armour. Who made yours?” Harkas spent a moment admiring the near-pristine silver plate that adorned the Dark Knight as he spoke.
“Ah, this? I had it commissioned shortly after we defeated the Archbishop, from one of the best smiths in the Temple Knights, if not Ishgard entirely.” He lifted an arm, showing off the gauntlet with a touch of admiration. “Crafted especially for me. And I must say, it’s an astounding piece of work.” The warrior nodded, appreciating the quality, the detailed metal plates covering even the fingers as they bent and curled.
“Do you think he’d be willing to create something for me?” she asked, with a hint of hope.
“I don’t see why not. After all, you’re one of the saviours of Ishgard. I’m sure he’d be delighted to have another Hero of Eorzea bearing his works.” The good news allowed Harkas to relax a little, smiling softly.
“That’s good then, Though I think I’d better get this done sooner, so I’ll head to Ishgard in the morning. Where can I find him?” the warrior asked, picturing the layout of the Holy City in her head. The Elezen hesitated briefly, bringing a finger to his chin.
“How about I just show you tomorrow? I’ve been wanting to return home sometime, see how the reform is going, check in on family.” Harkas nodded
“That would work too. Might help having you with me if he’s not entirely enthusiastic.”. Both took another drink, Daseaux draining the last of his ale and eyeing the now visable metal base.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll see you tomorrow.” he grunted as he rose back to his feet, sliding out from the bench. “I’ve some tasks I must attend to before the day is done, but let us meet tomorrow at say, ten bells at the palace entrance?”
“Works for me.” The Warrior answered, and the Elezen gave an affirming nod, followed by a quick warriors salute, banging a plated fist against his breastplate before winding his way through the crowd of soldiers, and leaving the warrior alone once more, though this time she seemed less gloomy as she drank the last of her ale.
Gradually, F’Rhigi awoke in a dark, damp stone room, groaning loudly. His face was in considerable pain and as he brought his hand up to it, felt the unmistakeable texture of dried blood that had drained from almost all his features. His nose, his mouth, even one of his eyes seemed to have a bloodtrail, not to mention the swelling he could feel all over. Next he realised he had been stripped of all clothing beyond a ragged shirt and trousers, not did he have any of his magical foci. There was one entry into this room, a thick wooden door reinforced with bands of iron, a small rectangular hole filled with wrought iron bars stood just above his head level, and as he rose, grumbling in discomfort, he heard movement outside. Soon, a face mostly covered with the Ala Mhigan resistances facemask peered through the viewport.
“Finally awake, are you?” came a gruff voice before it disappeared behind the door again, and F’Rhigi could hear him speaking to someone else. “He’s awoken. Send a missive to the commander, she wanted to talk to him at the earliest opportunity.” Followed by “Yes sir!” in a softer voice as footsteps echoed down the hall, growing more distant.
F’Rhigi’s demands to know where he was were met with silence from the guard at his door, as were his requests for his gear. Eventually, his questioning garnered a response from the Hyur outside.
“You’re in the gods damn gaol, you fool. Now shut up.”
“The gaol? Why in the hells would I be-” he tried to protest, but clutched his head in pain. Memories began to return. Of his failed attack, of the confrontation with Lyse, Y’shtola, Daseaux and Tufufu, and of the raging beasts fists coming at him. The recollection angered him into silence, but even that didn’t last as he realised that an enraged beast would be of little appeal to the archon. That had been his plan with the goading. To expose her as the uncontrollable savage she was, though he wished he hadn’t done such a good job, his face twitching as he pictured the oncoming blows.
He didn’t know how much time passed in the silence. The lack of windows, or any natural light made it tough to determine the time of day. Eventually, he heard footsteps approaching. Three sets, as he made it, followed by hushed chatter outside. Soon after, he heard the two voices from before utter a “Ma’am.” And their diminishing footfall. Clearly someone had come to question him, and he awaited their appearance in the viewport. To his surprise, there was a clatter as wood hit stone, and a blonde haired woman appeared behind the bars.
“Ah, Commander Hext. To what do I owe the pleasure?” his words contained a shot of venom for good measure. He cared little for what Lyse had come for, after all, she already knew all he was willing to tell her.
“I’ve just come to appraise you of your situation.” She sounded unusually stern, cold.
“Well you have my attention. Not like I can do anything to stop you in here, anyways.” He gave a dismissing shrug.
“No doubt you’ve noticed your injuries persist. None of our conjurers nor medicants felt inclined to aid you beyond Tufufu repairing your eye, an act of mercy we granted you only because of your service to Eorzea. The Scions have discussed the matter of the attack on Harkas last night, and we have reached a decision.” There was a pause as Lyse looked off to the side, to someone just out of sight, before she gave them a resolute nod. “F’Rhigi Tia. For the attempted murder of Harkas Rallur, you are dismissed from the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.” She didn’t sound entirely comfortable making such an announcement, but she powered through, and the news came as another hammer blow to the imprisoned Miqo’te.
“And who gave you the authority to give such orders?” he growled.
“The united decision of all acting leaders.” Came a voice from out of sight, though he could immediately recognise it as belonging to Y’shtola. Lyse again glanced to the side, presumably at the archon before turning back.
“And you are to remain incarcerated until such a time as we deem fit to release you.” The monk added. “That is all.” And pulled herself away from the viewport, the sound of boots on wood noticeable as she disappeared, more down than sideways. “Anything you want to say?” she could be heard just on the otherside, and then two footsteps were heard as Y’shtolas’ snow coloured ears poked into view, soon followed by the rest of her face as she looked disdainfully into the cell.
“This was brought about by your own doing, F’Rhigi. You’re a blight upon the Warrior of Light title, and I feel no remorse in telling you that I regret not your dismissal, and that in every aspect I would choose Harkas over you.” An uncommon act of spite from the Archon that bit deep into F’Rhigi, his face twisting how it could into a disfigured snarl. “And should you ever be free of this confinement, should you ever lay even a finger upon her, that you shall find yourself festering from the inside out.” A final threat from the archon signified the end of her statement as she vanished from sight. Fading footsteps followed as the two scions left, leaving F’Rhigi in the creeping darkness, wanting to fire barbs back at the scions that had befouled him so, but unable to force any words past his clenched jaw, even as it physically pained him.
Soon after, he heard the guards returning, one taking up their post outside in the corridor, the other moving off, presumably on patrol, and the Thaumaturge was eerily calm. After all, this gaol would be unable to hold him forever, and when he was free, he’d be able to correct this cruel mistake. Nobody was invincible, everyone had a weakness, and finding Harkas’ wouldn’t prove a major challenge. Nor would Y’shtolas’ condemnation. She would come to realise he was the only right choice. After all, minds can be changed, voluntarily or by force. There were no doubt ample concoctions and incantations that could see to that. He just needed to locate them, then all would be as it should. Giving a sneering chuckle, he sat himself back down on the wooden board that was his bed. He would endure the gaol for the time being. No doubt some business would draw mighty Warriors of Light and Scion alike back to Doma. He merely needed to wait for his opportunity.