Chapter Text
“Valerian!” Aymeric looks up from his desk, and smiles warmly. “What can I do for you, my friend? If it’s to do with the search for the crystal’s being smuggled, then I’m afraid neither I nor Thancred have made much headway.”
Aymeric had looked forward to spending some time with the mysterious Scion who Valerian loves so dearly. Sadly, it had been less informative than he’d hoped, with the man still so clearly grappling with re-entering this world into such changed circumstances.
Valerian nods, causing twining urges of guilt, fondness and.. To churn and curl in Aymeric’s stomach.
“I have no doubt you will succeed,” he says, flat and casual.
Haurchefaunt had once said that speaking to the warrior of light was like speaking to a force of nature, if a force of nature had beautiful amethyst eyes, a carved chest, and long, delicate fingers.
“I came about something else,” Valerian continues. “As you may know, I am a trained white mage.” Aymeric hadn’t known that until Valerian had showed up at Estinien’s bedside with a conjurer’s cane. “Despite that, I’m afraid my aptitude for destruction far outstrips what amount of healing I can manage. Thus, it is not the discipline I tend to turn to. However, the qualification for a white mage is not healing aptitude, but the ability to hear and channel the will of the elementals.”
Aymeric waits for Valerian to reach his winding conclusion.
“The last time I was in Azys Lla, I was aiding some fellow Scions in defeating the eikons that had been imprisoned there. The Garleans kept weakening the prison during their investigations. After I finished with that, I.. heard the call of the elementals who call Azys Lla home. Though much less powerful than the consciousness of the Twelveswood, they never the less communicated their desires quite clearly: There is something wrong with the lifestream within the chamber where I killed your father and his knights. I am to fix this.”
Each word hits Aymeric like a blow.
“After doing more investigating, I came to the conclusion that some of the men whom I killed did not fully become subsumed in the Lifestream, and are instead lingering on as Thancred and Y’shtola did. Due to the way I killed Thordan, I have no doubt he is not among the ones who linger. So, I came to ask you. Do you want me to try?”
Aymeric opens his mouth, then closes it again, resting his face in his hands. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Valerian speak so much at once, and it feels wrong to wish that he would never hear so much again.
“Valerian,” he says, quietly. “I do not think my morals any better than the warrior of light. Less, in fact, for it is I who ordered my own father’s death. You should do what you think is right.”
“Before coming to you, I did research. I only met so many of them before I fought them, and from what I found I suspect that Thordan only sent the truly unpleasant ones to speak to me. Many of them seemed to be earnest and sincere in their duty.” Valerian’s inflections never change, it’s comforting. “I’ve killed men like that for much less reason than that they were tempered to bring forth a primal.”
“Tempered?” Aymeric asks, hoarsely, trying to distract himself from the rest of what Valerian had said.
“Merely being around a primal will corrupt people, let alone hosting one in their flesh. I can’t say for sure, however. Thordan likely had begun his primal plans before I ever arrived in Ishgard. I don’t know if any of his knights changed....” Valerian trails off, then continues, “I don’t ask this off you lightly, Aymeric. Even if they come back, I’d still need to check for tempering, and I might end up killing them all over again. It’s likely that extended exposure to aether will have lasting consequences for them, though I don’t know how it will manifest. I just..”
Valerian closes his eyes, and sighs.
“As the one who killed them, I didn’t think it appropriate for me to be the sole arbiter of this choice.”
“It was me who ordered them dead, Valerian,” Aymeric says, eyes weary. “My hands, too, are soaked in blood.”
He can see Valerian disbelieves him, just as he himself considers Valerian guiltless.
“Then we shall do this together,” Aymeric says softly. “Bring them back, my beloved friend. And we will see the Fury’s mercy.”
Valerian reaches out to him, clasping his own hand onto Aymeric’s shoulder.
“Thank you, Aymeric,” he says, quietly.
He leaves without another word.