Chapter Text
It had been some time since Harkas had last drank like this and though it was nowhere near the amounts she used to consume, she was still beginning to feel its effects. The rewards from little challenges she had been taking from the celebrating citizens had shifted from trinkets and other interesting items to a simple drink and being the Warrior of Darkness, she often found herself more than a match for any physical competitions. Surprisingly, she was even managing hold her own in the mental ones, despite her simple upbringing. Apparently the wisdom of the Scions had been rubbing off on her all this time, something which caught even her off guard. While she couldn’t explain the interactions between merging currents of aether, she’d experienced enough to know what the end result would be.
What she knew for certain was that she’d have to pace herself now that she had a small collection of drinks awaiting her and she was already starting to feel light headed. Thankfully, the crowds had begun to thin as the night wore on. Some retiring for the night, some moving on to other areas of the party. Truthfully, Harkas was beginning to feel weary as well, the events of the day catching up to her. From waking after falling unconscious for some considerable time, to exploring the tempests and Amaurot while fearing the corruption of the light taking hold, to Hades and the unexpected swim back to Kholusia’s shore. It had been a long, strenuous and blessedly victorious day. In fact, this may have been the first real chance any of the Scions had had to simply relax since they were dragged to the first. There was a brief hit of disappointment as she thought of her companions, her fellow Warriors of Light she had left behind in the source. It was the first time since joining the Scions of the Seventh Dawn that they weren’t around to share in the cheer and the sensation felt oddly alien, but as quick as it had hit her, it was gone as another tankard was slid into the line awaiting her as Glynard gave her a nod, still grinning from ear to ear. These folk may not have been her longtime companions, but they had accepted her as one of their own, and had just as much reason to celebrate.
“I pray you’re not reverting to your old ways.” Through the murmur of the remaining crowd, Harkas heard a welcome voice cutting clear through the ambience, spinning on her stool toward the source. Whether the gaggle of people had parted purposefully at her words, or if it was merely coincidence, Y’shtola strode through the Wandering Stair with her usual grace, a small congregation of the Nights Blessed trailing behind her in various degrees of sobriety. “I’ve no desire to drag you back to your quarters and nor, do I imagine, do our companions.” If the cheery tone of her voice didn’t give her away, the smile that crept into the corner of her lips just might have, sidling up to the Warrior and planting herself on the stool beside her and inclining her head towards the collection of. Smirking, Harkas took a hearty swig from one of the tankards, returning it to the counter with exaggerated force.
“And if I am?” Harkas replied, gesturing out towards the Crystarium with a broad sweep of her arm. “Am I not allowed a night of indulgence after my triumph? Am I not allowed to try and wash away memories of grotesque monsters that haunt my dreams?” Keeping a straight face was proving difficult as her arm swung back, pointing at the Archon, who sat unflinching. “Try and stop me, by all means. Not that you could, mind you.” She finished, lifting the tankard back to her lips, using it to hide a smug look rather than drink, but she did her best to pretend. The Archons smile only grew, clearly not fooled by the Warriors act, but before she could retort one of the Nights Blessed, an elf, stepped forward, looking a little more unsteady than the others.
“You might be the Warrior of Darkness, but that doesn’t mean you can talk to her like that!” He snapped, the nearby folk falling quiet as he threw an arm between the two. “And weren’t you meant to be friends? How can you just refuse her when she’s trying to help?!” There was a brief silence as Archon and Warrior sat stunned, until Harkas was unable to maintain the façade any longer, bursting into laughter as Y’shtola shook her head, an amused look upon her face.
“I guess you win.” The Roegadyn spoke, peering around the elf arm at the Miqo’te, calming herself down. “Didn’t think I’d actually fool anyone though.” Taking one of the several drinks, she pushed the handle into the elfs outstretched hand, who stared at her dumbfounded. As he accepted the drink, he gave an embarrassed, but appreciative nod before slinking back to re-join his fellows. Turning back to Y’shtola, Harkas took another sip. “Take one if you want. I don’t think I’m going to drink much more after this one.”
“Then why procure them?” The archon asked as she leant forward, taking one of the wine glasses and lifting it to her face, giving it a sampling sniff.
“People just started giving me them when I won, is all.” The warrior shrugged.
“Ah yes. I heard rumour that you had been accepting any and all who would challenge you.”
“Don’t tell me you’re here to challenge me too.” The was a brief look of worry on the warriors face as she tried to examine the Miqo’te. “You already know what I can and can’t do. I don’t think I’d ever be able to defeat you if it was you that challenged me. Maybe if I chose the competition, sure, but even then…” She trailed off, presumably trying to devise some challenge which she could overcome the archon.
“Worry not.” The achon said with a chuckle. “T’was not my intention to challenge you, though the rumours were what lead me here. It would appear, however, that I am too late.” As she took another drink, Harkas shrugged with her free arm.
“You never know.” She spoke as she lowered her tankard “Might still be a couple of brave souls willing to give it a shot, you never know.” There was a brief silence as both Scions glanced at the remaining patrons, followed by the Nights Blessed that had trailed Y’shtola. Each of her retinue either took a step back or raised their hands in an early surrender, to the disappointment of both, before an unfamiliar voice was heard.
“And you’d be right, oh mighty Warrior of Darkness.”
Those within earshot turned to the source, as a muscular, coeurl patterned Hrothgar pushed past a small gathering several feet away.
“Since none o’ these cowardly excuses will take you on, guess that just leaves me, eh?” Directing a dismissive gesture towards the Archons retinue, he placed himself between them and the Scions with a throaty chuckle.
“You’re one to talk.” Harkas grunted as she sized him up. He held himself with no small amount of confidence, with musculature built from years of physical labor. “Dozens of people have already given it a shot, and you show up now that everyone’s done so you can boast about your bravery?” The Hrothgar sneered, rolling his whole head.
“Tactics. Let you tire yourself on the small fry, then make my move. If I’m gonna beat you, I’ve gotta take precautions. That’s how I win.” He sounded almost smug as he explained his plan, glancing at Y’shtola as if seeking her approval.
“If you say so. Plenty of people have already beaten me tonight though, and they didn’t need any of these petty tricks.” The Warrior sighed.
“Say what you will, but you won’t be acting so tough when it’s over.” He snarled, Harkas’ words having some small effect on him.
“Sure, sure. Let’s get this over with. What’s the challenge?” With each word the Roegadyn sounded wearier, watching the Hrothgar stride to a nearby empty table and seat himself on the far side. As she lifted herself to her feet with a grunt, he placed his right elbow upon the surface, hand open. “Arm wrestling? That’s your master plan?” Harkas almost sounded amused as she joined him, sitting herself opposite.
“Aye. Part of it. See, there’s more to this than just raw strength. There’s technique to it. That’s where I have you.” The smugness crept back into his voice as he sized the Warrior up.
“Fine, let’s just get this over with.” Harkas gumbled, mirroring his arm position, only for him to shift at the last second.
“Ah, just one second. You don’t know what I want if I win.” The corner of his mouth curled into a sly grin as Harkas cocked an eyebrow.
“I’ve not been doing requests, you know.”
“Well there’s a first time for everything.” Again, the Hrothgar glanced at Y’shtola who still remained seated several feet back, observing intently.
“Fine. What’ll it be?” Every action served to annoy the Warrior slightly more. She just wanted this over and done with.
“Well at first, I was just going to get myself something shiny. I hear you pick up all sorts of valuable things an’ me tools are starting to blunt.” He stopped briefly to chuckle as Harkas rolled her eyes. “But then I saw you with that Beautiful lady over there and I knew what I wanted more.” He gestured to the archon behind her and immediately Harkas snapped to attention, her weary expression quickly shifting to one of disdain, Y’shtola herself maintaining her composure, simply furrowing her brow. “Nothing vulgar, don’t you worry. All I want is a little kiss from the little lady.”
Each of the Nights Blessed recoiled, some taking steps to place themselves in front of the silent Archon as Harkas quickly pulled her arm from the table, shooting the Hrothgar a glare.
“Not happening.” She snarled.
“So quick to reject it. Almost as if you’re scared of losing.” It was a clear provocation, though Harkas wasn’t taking the bait.
“I’m not going to gamble my…friends lips.” Anger was creeping into her voice now, her hands balling into tightly clenched fists.
“Surely it’s only gambling if you think there’s a chance of losing.” The Hrothgar taunted, leaning in closer.
“I know what you’re doing and trust me, you don’t want to keep annoying me.” She shot him another scowl and began to rise from her seat. “Now if you’re done wasting my time-”. Her words were cut off as a hand gently grasped her shoulder, guiding her back down onto the stool. She was expecting some lackey attempting to “encourage” her, but as she turned, ready to confront them, she was greeted by the slender fingers of Y’shtola, who stared sternly at the challenger.
“You’re certain of your victory?” Her tone matched her expression, her gaze unwavering.
“I reckon I got a good chance-” The Hrothgar began to answer, before he was cut off.
“I was not addressing you.” Her brow furrowed slightly more before she glanced sidelong at the Roegadyn.
“It’d honestly be more of a challenge to not break his arm doing so.” Her reply was blunt, side-eyeing the man. “But I’m still not going to-”
“Then I accept on her behalf.” The archon turned her focus back to the Hrothgar, eyes narrowing slightly. Both sides looked surprised, but the challenger quickly returned to his smug look.
“What’re you doing? I wasn’t-” Harkas tried to object, only to be silenced as the grip on her shoulder tightened.
“It’s too late now, I’m afraid. If you back out now, then he’s the victor by technicality.” The Miqo’te interjected. “And you won’t allow that, will you?”
Harkas stared at the Scion for a moment, before giving a defeated sigh.
“Don’t have a choice now, do I?” she grumbled, turning back to the game at hand, readying herself for the contest. By now, the crowd that had dispersed was beginning to reform, drawn in by another competition of strength. This seemingly only served to embolden the Hrothgar, who chuckled as he matched the Warrior and as their hands met, their fingers tightened.
“What say you count us down?” He spoke, glancing at the archon, who simply shrugged.
“If you so insist.” Sliding her hand from the Warriors shoulder, she moved to the side of the table. “If both are prepared, I shall begin the count.” Taking a moment, she looked at both contenders, who each gave a nod. “Well then, on my mark.” She held a hand out, ready to drop it, and both sides focussed on their opponent, Harkas still glaring, The Hrothgar still with his confidant smirk. A second later, Y’shtola withdrew her hand. “Begin!”
As the crowd roared, The Hrothgar quickly made his move, attempting to shift his hand upwards towards the warriors fingers, while also trying to tilt her hand backwards. Instead, he found his hand immobile, unable to manipulate the Roegadyns grip. The smugness faded from his face as he made another attempt, only to find the same result. Harkas, on the other hand, sat stony-faced.
“See, thing is…” she spoke as though she was under very little strain. “Those techniques should give you an edge, but you still have to outdo me just to start them.” Slowly, Harkas began putting more effort in, the Hrothgars arm gradually tilting back. “Doesn’t really help that I know them too. At least I picked something up during those nights in the Drowning wench.” By now, the Hrothgar was visibly exerting himself, his arm trembling as he pushed all he could, to no avail. The crowd watched eagerly, many cheering for the Warrior of Darkness as she crept, deliberately slowly towards victory, until she was seemingly done toying with him. With a thud, the match was over. Another roar erupted from the audience as the Hrothgar sat at an awkward angle, his arm pinned by the Warrior who still stared at him coldly.
“Alright, you’ve won.” The confidence was stripped from his voice and he watched the Roegadyn with nervous eyes. “You can let me go now.” He was almost pleading at this point, but still he was trapped.
“Apologise.” Harkas growled.
“I-I’m sorry.” He stammered a response, not breaking eye contact. The crowd had quietened somewhat as those closest watched events unfold.
“Not me.” She snapped, gesturing towards the Archon with her head. It took a moment for the Hrothgar to shift his gaze, but he tore himself from the Warrior, turning to the Sorceress.
“I-I’m sorry ma’am. I didn’t mean any offense, p-please forgive me.” Y’shtola eyed him warily before placing a hand on Harkas’ shoulder. In response, the Warrior released her grip and the Hrothgar quickly withdrew his hand, rubbing his forearm.
“Mayhaps now you’ll refrain from disrespecting others.” She spoke curtly as he staggered to his feet, watching him slink back into the crowds.
“Y-yes ma’am. I will.” He sputtered a response before vanishing into the throngs of people who thankfully parted to allow him past, closing the gap behind him.
With the contest now over, Harkas let out a weary sigh.
“You got me to do that just to teach him a lesson?” She gave Y’shtola a tired smile, leaning back in on her seat.
“Amongst other reasons, aye.” The archon returned the smile, her face warming considerably.
“Ever the vigilant mentor, hm?” Harkas chuckled. “So what were these “other” reasons?”. The corner of Y’shtolas’ smile curled more as she closed the distance between them.
“Well, there was promise of a prize to the victor, was there not?” Her voice took on a more sultry tone as she waited for Harkas’ response. Whether it was exhaustion or her oblivious nature, Harkas spent a moment eyeing the Sorceress curiously, before colour rushed to her cheeks.
“Here?” Harkas spoke quietly. “Y’sh-” she started another point before quickly glancing at the nights blessed a few paces away. “Master Matoya, there’s…a lot of people here. You’re alright with them knowing?” There was a chuckle from the Archon as she drew back somewhat.
“There’s no need to call me that now. All present are privy to the truth of my identity.” She gestured to her followers who talked amongst themselves. “There’s no need to keep secrets tonight, and I believe we’ve earned some indulgences, if you’ll forgive my being so forward.” There was a pause as Harkas pondered her words, before her arm curled around the Miqo’tes’ waist, pulling her in close.
“Only if you’ll forgive mine.”
“I’m sure I can find a way.” Y’shtola whispered, wrapping her arms around the Warriors neck, feeling Harkas’ other hand press against the back of her head. As the pair embraced, lost in the throes of passion, one final cheer came from the crowd. No doubt word would spread to the other scions, but right now, Harkas couldn’t care less.