Chapter Text
My name is Adehn of Ul'dah.
And I am a failure.
He had expected his daggers to sink into soft flesh, to feel the give of blood into bone as he had many times before. Instead they lay scattered across the street where her body should be, the woman meant to die standing above him with her arms crossed, much like a mother scolding a child. Strange that she would be so motherly when it was she who had disarmed him. One moment she had been minding her business walking down the street in the midst of the night the next he had descended upon her from a nearby roof, and received a swift kick to the face in thanks for his efforts.
“Speak.”
A distinctly masculine voice. There is a knee at his back and he can taste iron on his lips. No doubt he was bleeding, the kick to his chin having made him, quite literally, bite his tongue. He couldn’t speak, even if he wanted to.
“Thancred, don’t hurt him,” The knee on his back relinquishes and he is suddenly free to breath how he pleases. With a gasp he takes in the dank night air of Ul'dah, the stone beneath him is still warm with the day’s sun though it is well past the moon’s rising. Though it stings the back of his throat, he welcomes each pull of much needed oxygen into his lungs.
The woman kneels, looking Adehn in the eye.
Minfilia Warde. The woman he was sent to murder on the streets of a city he had once called home.
Blue eyes peer back at amber for but a fraction of a second before Minfilia flenches, grasping at her skull. The man that was, ostensibly, standing behind him finally comes into view. The “Thancred” that she had spoken to before hovering over her in worry. Adehn attempts to stand, but finds his hands bound behind his back. He grunts, wishing to break them with sheer force of will alone. Minfilia looks up once more and Adehn knows that his time for escape has passed.
She stands, shaken, her knees weak and face pale. “We must take him away from here. To the Waking Sands.”
“Minfilia he tried to kill you-”
“Please Thancred, trust in me.”
Thancred sighs, head falling. They’ve had this sort of conversation before. They’re close. His attention falls to the Viera that lay before them. “Well, he’s not coming conscious, that’s for sure.”
“Wait! Thancred!”
But there is no arguing this. Adehn opens his mouth, perhaps to yell, perhaps to bite, but it is all for naught. Instead he finds that fire erupts behind his eyes and he is cast into sleep with a swift strike of the man’s fist.
The sleep is dreamless, as it always is. The few times Adehn can remember what he dreams of it has always cut him as a knife would. He prefers it like this even if waking is a stir of confusion and pain as it is in this moment.
He had assumed that they would lock him in a cell or perhaps shackle him to a wall. Instead, it is more as if he’s locked up in a broom closet. It is bare, with no windows and only one door. He finds that he can only sit up and stretch his legs out, if he were to attempt to lay down fully he could not achieve it without bending some part of him.
Adehn huffs audibly, especially when upon further inspection both his ankles and wrists are shackled as well. The chains make an annoying racket whenever he moves and to his large ears it’s impossible to ignore. All this because he had underestimated that woman. If he had been smart he would have taken her out with an arrow from malms away, but he had wanted the job to be quick so that he might move forwards faster. Ever towards his goal. Ever forward.
Until someday he could finally rest.
There is a knocking at the door and Adehn’s head shoots up from where it had gone to rest lazilly against his shoulder. After a moment of tense silence a broad chested young man slowly opens the door. His hair is a sandy blond, paint stripes his face, and he smiles down at Adehn as if he weren’t imprisoned in this room and they were two friends coming together again.
“They said you would be hungry.” Adehn’s eyes trace down to the young man’s hands, a steaming plate of food is on offer, a mix of greens and red meats grilled to perfection. “They” had been wrong. Adehn wasn’t hungry. He was never hungry.
His stomach growls in clear defiance.
The man laughs, slowly sitting the plate down and pushing it towards Adehn as if he were a startled animal. “I thought as much, a big man like you needs plenty of food.” A big man? He wasn’t even that tall, not compared to a Viera female, at least. Then again, a hyur as young as he had most likely never seen a Viera in his relatively short life span.
Adehn slowly grasps the plate’s edge, pulling it towards him in a slow and halting pace across the floor. He expects the boy to leave and close the door behind him. Instead he steps inside the room, shutting the door tight before he slides down, crossing his legs. Adehn has to do the same if he wants to keep a semblance of personal space. The food sits in his lap, their knees almost touching, the air is so stagnant in the small room that Adehn begins to consider if they have enough to breath.
“You know, you don’t talk very much.”
Adehn only responds with a deadpan expression, ears wilting slightly. He begins to pick at his food with his fingers bringing a leaf to his nose to sniff it.
“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
It wasn’t. What he worried for was something else entirely. The meal was well prepared, surely by someone who knew what they were doing with ingredients this fine. This young man was friendly, almost kind, and certainly did not mean any harm. His quarters were small and cramped, his legs and arms shackled, but it was clean. These people, whomever they were, did not mean to treat him poorly, no.
And that scared him.
The young man sits there silently as Adehn nibbles on the greenery provided to him. He avoids the meat, not because he is one to avoid it but because he wants to see how much the boy takes notice, how much he reports back to those above him.
“My name is Arenvald by the way,” the silence apparently forcing Arenvald into speaking, “Minfilia mentioned your name was Adehn-”
Adehn sits up straight, ears standing on end. He had not mentioned his name, had not even spoken to these people. So how could they know?
“-A’aba says it’s a Seeker name but Aulie says it could be Hyur. They keep arguing about it,” a distinctly nervous chuckle leaves his throat, one that Adehn catches even amidst the confusion that rings like a bell through his being, “Do you know? Where it comes from, that is, I expect you do, since it’s your name an’ all.”
He sits there blankly for a few moments of tense, almost awkward silence before, finally, he allows himself to respond. He would regret this. He knew it. Arenvald was sent here to do just this. To get him to talk. Perhaps even build a report with him until, finally, he shared who or what his master was.
His voice cracks as he speaks, his throat dry and, at first, it hurts but he gets the hang of it again enough to say, “It’s a Seeker name…”
Arenvald seems as if he’s seen a ghost, or, perhaps, witnessed a miracle. For all Adehn knows it could be both. How long has it been since he spoke of his own free will? Longer still has it been more than just a singular word, he’s sure.
“How did you come by it, then? You’re certainly not a Seeker.”
Adehn’s mouth curves into a frown, more than it already has. “I am well aware that I’m not a Seeker.”
Arenvald’s hands raise in mock defense. The gesture is an attempt to appease Adehn, but the Viera is not so much amused as he is offended. Surely the boy had to know of Viera tradition? Did he not know how they took different names upon leaving the forest?
“You have me wondering why. I mean-- I know you’re not a Seeker. But how can a Viera come to have a--”
“--It’s personal. Private. How do you even know my name?”
“I told you. Minfilia gave it to me she--”
“--I never mentioned it to her.”
They lapse into tense silence. Arenvald looks down, staring at his hands through messy blond hair. Adehn has to admit, whomever thought of sending the youth to crack him had thought this through. Arenvald was just brave enough to talk to an attempted murderer and stupid enough to be kind to him. Had he simply not been informed of his crime? Surely it was obvious if he was locked up like this.
“Minfilia is a good woman,” Arenvald finally says, hands clenching into fists, “I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s quick to forgive, but just as quick to fight for what she wants. If she sees good in you then I know she’s right.”
“So it is her who sent you.”
“No.” Adehn has a hard time believing him, but the look in Arenvald’s eyes when he finally meets him face to face again almost convinces him. “She didn’t. I swear. Someone needed to feed you and I thought that I might-”
“--What, change my mind?”
“See who it was she was so set on forgiving.”
That makes Adehn look away, suddenly becoming quite interested in studying the wall. It has notches and holes it in from where furniture or perhaps tools had rammed into the side without care.
“There is nothing to forgive. Arenvald.”
The young lad stands abruptly. It is as if he takes up the entire room and Adehn has to crane his head to look up at him. His hands are balled into fists at his side, chin sunken into himself. For all the world it looks as if he’s about to cry or, perhaps, throw some sort of tantrum but instead he turns hard on his heel, opening the door with a slam that threatens to shake the foundations.
“We’ll see Adehn.” And with that he pushes through the doorway and into whatever lies beyond. He shuts the door too fast for Adehn to catch it.
He lets a sigh escape from his lips, setting the plate aside he stretches out his legs fully, head falling to rest on the wall.
Perhaps kindness was something he was no longer used to.
He sits there for what seems like days, but was probably only a number of hours. The food goes cold and the leaves left on the plate wither. Adehn is left to wonder if he will be left to rot much like the steak when the door finally opens once more.
It is not Arenvald, but the same white haired man from the streets of Ul’dah, Thancred. His arms are folded across his chest as he looks down upon Adehn. This one would not show him kindness, not after what he had witnessed, and Adehn almost preferred it that way. There was no wondering about his motives, only the outward hate he portrayed.
Thancred steps into the room and Adehn has enough since to stand. Wordlessly he takes up the chain of his handcuffs, pulling out of the room and into the light of the hallway just outside of it. He is unsurprised to see two armed guards stationed outside of what he is still reasonably sure is a broom closet. The move passed silently and further down the hall and around a corner until they stand before a set of doors that Thancred knocks upon.
“Enter.”
The doors open wide before them and Thancred tugs Adehn along like a dog on a leash. Minfilia stands behind an oak desk. She is dressed as she was when he had first spotted her. Perhaps it had only been a matter or hours then, and not days stuck in that cramped room. The stone of the walls and the work of the furniture is specific to Thanalan with it’s hard cuts and orange-brown coloring so they must still be near Ul’dah.
Why were they taking such risks? He was an assassin, someone who was paid to eliminate the very woman he is brought to stand before. Is it because they plan to execute him for his crimes? Or do they have something else entirely planned? To lull him into security so that he might divest his secrets?
“Adehn,” Minfilia says his name as if he is an old friend and not in chains before her. Thancred stands just to the side of him but Minfilia gives him a look that would make even Adehn wish to scurry off and hide. The rogue, however, simply rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders, slipping away and out the doors with but a word. Was this woman truly stupid enough to be in a room alone with him? “There, now the two of us can speak in private.” She sits in a large oak hewn chair, crossing her hands politely in front of her on the desk. “Please, have a seat.”
Adehn eyes the red stool by his side before looking back up to Mifillia. “No.”
A frown does not cross her features, but there is a catch in her blue eyes that Adehn cannot put his finger on.
“I understand, this is certainly confusing for you. I’m sure you were expecting to be hauled to jail, or worse, sent directly to the hang man’s noose.” Her smile persists, Adehn looks down at the chain between his wrists, wondering idly if he could use them to strangle her here and now. “But that wouldn’t work, would it?” His eyes snap to her again, “Your abilities don’t allow you to die, do they? Ever since the Battle of Carteneau-”
“Who told you of this? Of me.”
“You did.” Her voice raises only a fraction to speak over him, “As soon as our eyes met on that street my Echo granted me a vision of your past, the very same Echo that you have!”
“That’s absurd--”
“--You know it to be true!”
Adehn’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click. He hadn’t had visions in a long time, since he left the forest he had once called home and traveled across the sea to Eorzea. Ever since they had remained closed to him. He had thought that, without the boughs and burrows of his homeland, that they had simply stopped, that it was simply some sort of punishment for leaving his people behind.
“I no longer have this Echo you speak of. It was lost to me long ago…”
“It has been with you all this time. How do you think you heal so quickly?”
“I do no such thing--”
“--Your busted lip is gone.”
Adehn nearly reaches up to check. The skin that had broken when Minfilia had graced him with such a hard kick to the face was indeed healed. It no longer hurt or bled. But that had always been his lot. His mother had always told him he had healed fast. Bruises and scraped knees had never bothered him as a child and he had simply thought himself impervious to such minor things. Could this Echo that Minfilia speaks of--
“I do not know--”
“Damn it Adehn!” Minfilia stands, impassioned, as her fist slams into the desk, “I saw you! I saw you hold your dying friends on that battlefield! Do not tell me I know not what I speak of!”
“Who are you to tell me! For all I know you are simply warping my thoughts because of what I’ve done!” He would never admit it, but his hair was standing on end and he had taken a step back from the desk as if he were a startled starling and not a man twice her age.
Minfilia seems to calm, standing straight now she lets out a long breath. “Let me show you.”
Adehn’s jaw tenses. “What sort of proof can you provide? To even think of claiming this is outrageous…”
“I have more than enough proof. If I am wrong. If you are not convinced by the end of it, then I will allow you to kill me.”
Adehn’s brow furrows for but a moment. She was sure then. If she was so convinced that she would allow her own death…
Minfilia was either stupid or crazy.
The room remains silent. Adehn does not speak. Minfilia does not speak.
Finally, she caves with a sigh. “Do you not wish to kill those who caused the Battle of Carteneau?”
Adehn’s eyes snap to her, “The Garleans? I’ve already killed a few.”
“Twas not the Garleans who caused the battle,” And there it is, the gleam in her eyes, she knows that she has caught the rabbit in her snare, “It is the very masters you work for, the dark robed figures whom beseech you to kill.”
“You knew who my master was this whole time?” Somehow, the very notion makes his skin crawl.
Minfilia visibly relaxes, shoulders slowly relieving themselves of their tension as she sits back down in her chair. “No. I did not. But they are the ones who have wished for my death for years. It is of no surprise that they would send their best assassin. I will admit, however, that I would turn their knife back on them. Once you know the truth.”
Adehn’s head swirls but he stamps it down. “And what truth is that?”
“The Garleans played a major role in the Battle of Carteneau, yes, but it was the cloaked figures, you masters, who orchestrated the entire affair to bring about a calamity the likes of which this world has never seen.”
“That is a bold claim, how could you prove this?”
“I can prove it by providing evidence that they seek to manufacture another calamity. You need only gaze upon it yourself to know that I am right.”
“And if you are wrong will you allow me to kill you?”
“Yes. Without hesitation.”
Adehn’s stomach turns. She would not make such a claim without consequence. He knew it. A shiver of anxiety runs down his spine. In his work to reach his goal had he, unknowingly, aided those who had bestowed this undying curse upon him? Was he such a fool, so blind to the world around him, that he was to help cause yet another calamity? Was the blood on his hands not that of dozens, but of tens of thousands? Millions?
“Show me.”
“Let’s get started, then.”