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Chapter Text

She stared at herself in the mirror for a long while, emerald eyes locked within emerald eyes, as if she could intimidate the nervousness from her.  But the longer she glared at her reflection, the more she felt that cold steel in her gaze sputter out and fade.  Kaida sighed, looking down at the surface of the ornate Ala Mhigan bureau.  Her items were scattered about still—the last bits she had yet to pack before departing for the Alliance camp.  She could not put words to her hesitation to depart.  Not without feeling like a silly little girl. 

Come on.  Focus.  It can’t be that bad, can it?  He says he’s on our side now.  And you’re a damn Warrior of Light.  He should be scared of you.

Kaida Asagiri lifted her chin and looked back at that reflection, hoping it would grant her some infallible wisdom.  Instead, it gave her a blank expression and she resigned herself to her fate.  She tossed the remaining items still left out of her bag into it.  The bag was slung over her shoulder and she drew in a deep breath.  One last look at the mirror.

Am I really about to go to a cordial meeting with Gaius Baelsar?  I feel like this is an elaborate joke the kami have played on me.

She turned and went to the door, hand brushing against it for a moment.

Then again, he did help Alphinaud.  Maybe he is turning over a new leaf…

Yet just as that thought passed through her mind, she thought of all the tales from before, when she had been younger.  Tales from the traders that visited their town brought news of the larger-than-life Black Wolf and his cruel misdeeds.  He had been akin to a monster under her bed for a time, the lines of myth and reality blurred all around him.  And then she had met him.  And then she had fought him.  And while she clearly saw he was not impervious, there was still a hefty rock of intimidation that weighed heavily in her gut.  Even donned in her ebony armor and armed with her claymore, she felt vulnerable somehow.  And Kaida hated that.

But she left for the meeting anyways, slipping from her room in the Ala Mhigan palace and departing for the stables nearby. Though an escort had been offered for her, she had opted to take Enji, her crimson-plumed chocobo, instead.  A rush of wind against her face and the freedom of flight would do more to set her nerves at ease than sitting in the presence of some poor Ala Mhigan soldier who had the unfortunate duty of taking her to the Alliance encampment.  Better to let the soldiers perform more meaningful tasks than functioning as an escort, she thought.  And it was not as though she were unfamiliar with the camp’s location.  It had not been that long since Ghimlyt and the battle against the not-Zenos. 

Enji was, of course, happy to spread his wings.  Since Norvrandt, she had gotten to see him less and less.  And that had turned her feathery companion quite sour.  He had stomped his grey feet upon her arrival, squawking and ‘kwehing’ angrily.  Chest thumping against the gate of his stall, he all but barreled her over when she opened the latch for him.  His nuzzles against her face made up for it, the softness of his sanguine feathers tickling her cheeks.  She laughed despite the dread in her stomach and the soreness of her tail, having landed on it.  Deftly, her fingers ran over the bird’s head, finding those sweet spots he loved having rubbed.  He gave a pleasant chirp as he settled down and she picked herself up. 

“I apologize,” she said to him as she placed his saddle upon his back with a hefty heave.  “It’s been too long.”

He nipped at her playfully and she shooed him with a grin, pushing his jaw away.

“You still do not get to bite, however,” she giggled at him, fastening the straps around his underbelly and readying his bridle.

Enji stilled at her touch, obedient or perhaps just eager to get flying.  She finished putting the bridle on him and climbed aboard.  Sitting atop the back of a chocobo felt perhaps the most nostalgic to her, harkening her back to her earliest days as an adventurer.  Enji had been a gift in those days, granted to her by the Order of the Twin Adder after she had done work for them as a freelance medic.  Kaida spent a moment taking in the feeling of being atop his back before clicking at him to proceed forward from the stables.  He took to the sky not long after and Kaida felt that rush of wind against her skin that she had been anticipating.

The flight to the camp, however, was not a long one.  Enji was still spritely and gleeful by the time the violet banners came into sight, the wooden fort structure upon the horizon.  Kaida sucked in a breath and recalled well the reason that she had been summoned here.  She had let some of the others handle the business on the First, knowing that in order to conquer, they had to divide their attention.  Evil was ever wont to be a thorn in the side of good.  And just as things had started to calm in one place, problems began arising in others.  She was used to this lifestyle in a bitter way, locked in a perpetual game of whack-a-moogle with the Ascians.  Only now they were down to one and she was hoping that meant their troubles would soon go away… mostly, at the least.  A vacation to Costa del Sol was sounding more and more appealing as was the idea of chucking her constantly chiming linkpearl into the ocean.

Enji landed and Kaida began assessing the situation at once.  Garlond Ironworks had already established a presence in the base and she was glad for that—if anyone could analyze the best way to defeat these Weapon prototypes, it was Cid and his group. 

A bleak gray sky hung overhead, the wind bringing the scent of gunpowder, smoke, and fire.  Everything about this affair was grim, Kaida knew, but the stench of it somehow made it more real.  She swung her leg over and hopped down from Enji’s back, greeted by a soldier who offered to escort her bird to the stables.  Kaida let them, dragging her gaze over to where the banners of the city-states were lined up. 

Gaius stood in front of them, his back to her but she could imagine what was going through his mind at that moment.  Staring at the sigils of the countries he had sought to conquer, in the belly of a base that belonged to his former enemies.  She wondered how many people in this fort wanted him dead. 

He turned upon her approach, the amber of his eyes dulled in the darkness of smoke that permeated the skies above them.  But there was a sharpness about him still and staring at his face, Kaida struggled to mentally place him in the mantle of the Black Wolf.  He looked… perhaps too human like this for her to fall back on demonizing him.  And that left a complicated tangle of emotions in her chest.  She was used to being afraid of him.  She was used to hating him.  But without the armor, he felt different.  And his pressing gaze made her feel smaller than she was.

“Baelsar.”

A cold greeting.

“Lady Asagiri.”

A less cold greeting.  She tried to ignore that. 

“I am here to stop this Weapon you told us about.”

She realized that was obvious.  Of course she was here for that.  She was a goddamn Warrior of Light.  Maintaining that frost in her tone, she crossed her arms over her chest.  Trying to look disinterested.  Trying to keep up a barrier so he was reminded who he was dealing with.  It was a defense tactic—posturing.  Apart from their quick meeting in the Burn, they had barely said a word to each other.  She told herself she wanted to keep it that way.  To keep that distance so he was intimidated.  So he was reminded that she had put a stop to him before and she would again.

“The other Warriors of Light will be along shortly.  There’s still quite a bit of business to deal with back in Ala Mhigo,” Kaida continued.

“Very well.  I can apprise you of the situation now, if you wish,” Gaius said.  The deep tones of his voice felt so different, a purr upon her horns.  For the thousandth time, she wondered how this man could be Gaius van Baelsar.  The Black Wolf.  But then she looked in his eyes and she saw bits of the truth.  And for some reason, that did not scare her.  Instead, she felt a poignant melancholy.

“I would hate to make you repeat yourself.  But I suppose it’s better to spend the time being productive,” she replied.  

“Agreed,” Gaius said, turning and beginning towards one of the nearby tents set up over a long table.

A limp in his gait caught her attention at once.  She hesitated, wondering if she ought to say something to him.  Was it appropriate to?  Would it be inappropriate not to?  The debate in her froze her in real-time, emerald eyes scanning her former enemy up and down as the pressure of social norms waged war against each other. 

“After coordinating heavily with the Alliance forces, we have ascertained the likely trajectory of any Weapons launched…” his voice trailed off, glancing at her over his shoulder.  His brows arched in confusion.  “… Is something amiss?”

“I…” Kaida fumbled, a rush of heat coursing over her cheeks.  “I… I should be asking that.  You’re limping, in case you were not aware.”

“I am.  And the chirurgeons as well.”

“And you’re not in a medical tent being tended to?”

“Your concern is appreciated.  However, they have cleared me to walk the camp and no more.”

“I am not concerned,” Kaida said abruptly, an outraged surge in her chest.  Her cheeks burned, colored the scarlet of her chocobo’s plumage. “I just… cannot have you fainting on me mid-explanation, is all.” 

“I will endeavor not to.”

The way his eyes glinted in the faint light of nearby torches betrayed the slightest hints of amusement.  That ruffled her further, face the color of the nearby Limsa Lominsan banner.  She cleared her throat, chin slightly lifted.

“Good.  Well, let us be about it.”

Her words made her sound as though she were in charge of that moment.  But her tone spoke otherwise.  And that was what mattered.  But if Gaius had seen through her posturing, he made no mention of it.  Curious, Kaida thought.  Perhaps he really was making an attempt to play nice.  Her eyes followed him to the tent, chewing on her own contemplations of who the man named Gaius Baelsar really was and how their paths had continued to collide over the years.  A curious jest from fate and no more, she decided dismissively as she joined him at the table.

Chapter Text

Preparing for the assault on the Ruby Weapon left Kaida somewhere between antsy and excited.  She sat amid a series of crates under a violet-hued tent, sharpening Deathbringer.  Each stroke of the sharpening stone let out an awful, high-pitched screech.  Once, she had grimaced at the sound but over time, she had gotten used to it.  Fray had made her clean and sharpen her blade during her Dark Knight training and Sidurgu had been equally strict as a mentor.  ‘Your blade is a part of you.  And it requires good hygiene, just like the rest of you.’  Something to that effect, at the least.  Kaida had a habit of sharpening just before a fight.  It helped ease her anxious hands.

“Can’t you do that someplace else?” came a voice from nearby.

Kaida’s green eyes moved to its origin—a Raen with a blue ponytail and a rather cross expression.  Listelle was her name—one of the younger members of the Warriors of Light.  She had been pacing since their tactical meeting with the Alliance troops.  To and fro, to and fro.  Kaida pressed hard into the sharpening stone the next time she did so, mouth slightly upturned as Listelle’s heterochromic eyes narrowed at her.

“Look,” Kaida began with a devious grin.  “Maybe to you, this is a terrible noise.  But honestly?  I find it beautiful.” Screech!  “And soothing.  Like a lullaby, really.”  Screeeeeeeech!  “Hey, Listelle, want me to sharpen your cane too while I’m at it?” Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech!

“Hey!” Listelle yelled and the next thing Kaida knew, a cane’s head was soaring at her face.

“Whoa!” Kaida exclaimed, ducking backwards and summarily falling off the crate.  She landed on her back with a thud, calves still slung over the top.  Once the initial shock had worn off, she dissolved into a hearty laugh, laying back with her teal hair streaming into the dirt.

“You two…” came a sigh.  “Kaida, I assume the laughter means you’re not concussed?  We can hardly afford to have any injuries going into the fight.”

“I’m all right, Aurelia.  I’m about to be dealing with much worse when we fight the Ruby Weapon,” Kaida replied, sitting upright to look at the other Raen hanging about the tent.  She tied her black hair back into a ponytail and was leaning against one of the heavy poles keeping the overhead tarp held upright.

“Exactly.  I saw Gaius was limping,” Aurelia observed.  “If the Weapon outmatched even him, then we have a hard fight ahead of us.”

“Speaking of which…” Listelle began.  “Well, don’t look now, Kaida but I think he may have noticed your tumble.”

“W-what!?” Kaida sputtered, head swiveling over to see what Listelle was looking at.

Sure enough, there stood Gaius Baelsar.  Clad in his rugged overcoat, a pensive gleam in his amber eyes as he stared at the collection of Warriors of Light.  An expression remained on his face, one that Kaida could not parse.  Could not hope to, especially with her flustered nerves.  A meek gasp tore from the Dark Knight’s lips—a strangely girlish noise that was much higher in pitch than her normal speaking voice. 

“I said not to look now!” Listelle whispered urgently.

“Kami, did he really see that?” Kaida hissed, looking away abruptly.

So much for intimidating him.  Or making him feel like I’m there to put him down if he puts one toe out of line.  Kami… I’m such a fool…

“Either that or he’s just lost in thought,” Listelle remarked.  “Wait a minute… Are you… blushing?”

Kaida wished it were not true but she could feel it creeping up her nape.  Thankfully, she was saved by the approach of two of their colleagues – a greying Keeper of the Moon and a blonde Garlean.  Sahja Dakwhil and Aurelia Laskaris —two more Warriors of Light that Kaida had known since before Operation Archon and two of their designated healers for upcoming mission.  The Raen gave a wordless prayer of thanks to the kami.  As soon as the healer duo walked over, it seemed her tumble was quickly forgotten.  Kaida dusted herself off hastily.

“Preparations have been made to depart.  As soon as everyone is ready, we should make our move,” Aurelia announced.  “We simply need to wait on Astor, Rhela, and Cassandra to arrive.”

“Let us hope Cassandra and Gaius are able to get along,” Sahja, the Keeper, sighed as she rubbed her chin.  “I would hate to have a repeat of Praetorium.”

“That was a different time then.  If Cid can manage it, I am sure Cassandra can as well,” Aurelia said.  “This may be an awkward situation for all but it is important that we are all here.”

“The sooner we’re done, the better.  Unless you suppose there are other Weapons?” Kaida remarked.  Gaius had wandered off at this point, summoned by that sharp-eyed Duskwight he had taken to traveling with.  Her neck still burned from her ungraceful fall but she did her best to recover her composure.

“I have little doubt that there’s more.  Knowing the Empire, that is,” Aurelia commented and Kaida gave a weary sigh. 

“You’re probably right and I hate it,” came Kaida’s miserable retort.

“Well, I suppose we are free to do as we wish until the other three arrive by airship.  Just do not wander too far,” Sahja said and they soon dispersed.

Kaida found herself on the ramparts, feet drumming softly against the wooden walkways.  Alliance scouts kept an eye towards Ghimlyt, across the barren soil where they had been engaging the Empire for months.  It was a bitter place; devoid of life it seemed and filled with the corpses of downed machina.  Ceruleum and fire had scarred the land and Kaida wondered how long it would take for it to recover.  War was always such an awful thing but necessary, she told herself.  All of this was necessary.  Even if it was difficult.

She found Cid not far, with a dull pensive look and a scowl burned onto his face.  He ran his fingers through the silver of his beard.  Bitter and tired and the fight had not even begun yet.

“You know,” Kaida began.  “If you keep frowning, your face will get stuck like that.”

His brows quirked at her and he gave her a half-smile.  The Raen lowered her gaze.

“Sorry.  My mother used to tell me things like that.  She always wanted us to smile, even when no one was looking,” Kaida said.  “It was stupid.”

Cid gave a laugh at that, sounding at least somewhat humored.  “It’s all right.  There’s just a lot on my mind.”

“Is it him that’s got you upset?” Kaida asked.

“As much as I hate to admit it, yes,” Cid replied sourly.  “I’m more or less mad at myself.  One look and it’s like naught happened.  Like we could just start talking again, as if nothing had ever changed and as though time hadn’t passed.”

“I don’t know what that feels like.  But if you need someone to talk to…” Kaida began.

“You should be focusing on the fight ahead,” Cid pointed out.

“All I do is swing a big sword, Cid,” Kaida laughed.  “Occasionally toss out some defensive magic.  And, well, try to dodge the large attacks being flung at my face.  Besides, it’s just a Weapon.  Nothing we haven’t faced before.”

“I wish I shared your optimism.”

“Maybe I could lend you some.  Just so you stop frowning so much.”

Cid’s brow quirked at her again, a smirk on his lips.  “I frown that often, do I?”

“More than you’d think.”

“Mmm.  Something to note, then.  Stay safe out there.”

“I will make sure we all come back hale and whole.”

“I am sure you will.  Provided you aren’t tripping over yourself.”

Kaida’s eyes snapped wide as Cid passed her by, clapping her thin shoulder with a palm.  She could hear his chuckle as he descended the steps.  Gawking, the Raen watched him go, face alight with a blush once more.  One of her gauntlet-clad hands moved to her nose and she massaged the bridge of it with an exasperated sigh.

Chapter Text

She had seen many things in her time as a Warrior of Light but all things paled in comparison to the sight of the sloshing white mess that spilled from the Ruby Weapon.  After the confrontation with Gaius’s wards, Kaida had quickly dismissed herself back to the campsite.  A desperation clawed in her heart when she had realized the truth behind the Ruby Weapon, filling her with such horror that her stomach threatened to unfill itself of that morning’s contents.  She made it to camp before it happened, finding a secluded spot to retch and vomit before eventually picking herself back up from the crusty, dry earth.  A few quivers racked her body and her arms hugged herself, trying desperately to not think about what had happened to that poor girl.  Trying to think of anything else—the softness of Enji’s feathers, the cold of Deathbringer in her hand, the sight of a sunrise…

It did not help.  And with tears trickling unbidden down her cheeks, she tucked herself behind some crates and gave herself a moment of privacy to breathe and collect her thoughts.  She told herself another would not be made to suffer that kind of agony again.  It was a promise she was not sure she could keep. 

The debriefing happened as soon as she found the strength enough to face everyone again.  Her face was still damp with tears; eyes still faintly crimson.  But her voice did not crack as she spoke with Cid, Gaius, or the other Warriors of Light.  And that was what mattered – that posturing, that strong front.  She dismissed herself again when all was said and done.  Though a helpful soldier tried to offer her lunch, her stomach protested the notion angrily.  The Alliance soldiers thought the victory against the Ruby Weapon enough to bust out a keg for and as they merrily drank, Kaida slipped out the gate, feeling the concerned eyes of her colleagues on her.  She did not have the energy to talk about her feelings to them.

The Dark Knight found herself outside of the campsite, the scent of war still lingering in the air.  The clouds had not parted since her arrival but the gloom of the day felt incredibly fitting.  Kaida sat upon a hill overlooking everything, her mind pulled in a thousand directions.  Flashes of the face of Nael deus Darnus would occasionally interrupt her attempts to think about everything but the day’s events.  Her fingers dug crevices into the dry dirt, making patterns that made no sense until she had let her feelings swell and drain.  When she was convinced she would not lose herself to the horror again, she made her way back to camp.  No food was eaten still.  She could not stomach it.

Gaius had said he would go with Valdeaulin to track the Ruby Weapon’s point of origin but she saw him in the campsite still, lingering on a walkway built into the side of wall.  Had this been any other circumstance or any other person, she might have playfully chided them if they were ignoring their duties.  But there was a vacancy in his eyes that threatened to upheave her efforts to calm herself.  She felt her stomach twist into knots, thinking about how just that morning, she had been all too concerned about not looking like a fool in front of him.  Maybe even about avoiding him as well.  But now it felt like gravity was pulling her towards him, stronger than she could suppress or fight.  She climbed the stairs, held in a quiet solemnness and despair that felt darker and deeper than anything she had felt before. 

His gaze stared out at where the Garlond Ironworks were towing the Ruby Weapon towards the campsite with the intentions of cracking it open further.  A single look at the warmachina made Kaida feel ill once more but she stomached it enough to step up next to him.

“Are you hungry?” She asked him then winced.  A stupid question.  How could anyone want to eat after seeing what they had seen and knowing what they knew. 

He did not reply.

Kaida’s eyes fell to the ground.

“I’m not good with words.  But what happened today…” she began then swallowed.  “If I’d known who was inside, maybe I could have—”

Am I… am I making excuses?  To Gaius Baelsar?  Is that how deep my anxiety runs these days?  Am I afraid of disappointing my former enemies too?

“You did not.  And that is all that matters,” he said to her, looking over his shoulder at her.  “I do not fault you for it.”

“But still…” Kaida replied.  “I’m sorry about it.”

“You need not apologize.  I sowed these seeds.  I will reap them.”

A few soldiers cheered nearby.  Kaida glanced over her shoulder to see another keg being brought out.  Gaius glanced their way as well before leaning against the railing, still staring at the Ruby Weapon with an indiscernible expression.

“I can probably get them to quiet down,” she offered.

“It is not necessary.  Though I appreciate your concern…” A pause and then he remarked.  “… which seems unwarranted.  I cannot help but wonder if Praetorium has faded from your mind.”

“It hasn’t,” Kaida said.  “I just...”

I look at you and I see a man in mourning.  And it’s hard for me to put that man inside the armor of the Black Wolf.  Besides, how could one make light of this situation?  We may have beaten the Garleans back but… this is war.  There’s no winners here.  Not really.  And I’m not so barbaric as to treat my former enemies as though they’re not people.

A rush of thoughts but what fell from her lips was something far different. “… You helped Alphinaud.  And I… I appreciate that.”

A small grunt and a smile—tiny, almost unnoticeable.  He looked to her for a moment before casting a long look towards the Weapon once more.

“He fares well?”

“As… well as one might, given his circumstance.  I hope he’s able to come back soon,” Kaida said.  Him and the others…

“I suspect he will.  It would seem the Scions and their Warriors of Light scarcely know how to give in.  A trait that has likely saved this star,” Gaius remarked.

“I think I remember a few times I wanted to give in,” Kaida began.

“An astonishingly normal confession from one who seems quite extraordinary.”

She opened her mouth to reply but found her face strangely hot.  It was the armor, she told herself.  The blasted armor in the midst of the Gyr Abanian heat.  Kaida crossed her arms at her chest, digging up those bits of her that she could throw in front to shield herself from those piercing amber eyes.  More posturing, more stances.  She prayed he did not see through them.

“I should leave you to your grieving.”

“My grief is better spent working on a solution to the problem we face.  Yet the medics have not yet cleared me for travel.”

“I never thought you the type to take orders.”

A wry smirk wound on his thin lips.  “Far be it for me to shirk the advice of experts.  It is for the better, I should think.  I… wish to be available should Cid’s engineers uncover more.”

“Is that why you’re watching them?” Kaida asked, studying him for a moment.  It seemed like torture, what he was doing to himself.  And it took her a few moments to realize that was intentional.  Something about that revelation made her feel ill in a different way, deep in the roots of her heart, not her stomach.  And for a long moment, she stared at Gaius Baelsar, pitying him.  A person that always seemed a tad beyond mortality, bathed in mythos and legend.

“… You should get something to eat.  There’s… no sense in going hungry.”

“I do not need your pity, champion.  Only the knowledge that you will see this through to whatever end may come.”

“You have my word.”

He looked to her for a moment, their eyes meeting in a way that felt different from before.  Different in a way that Kaida Asagiri could not describe but it felt revealing.  Vulnerable.  She could not maintain eye contact for long—she had always been bad at that.  The Warrior of Light cleared her throat.

“Let me know when there’s news, Baelsar.”

“I shall.”

She did not flee the scene but it felt akin to it regardless.  As her feet drummed down the stairs in a steady rhythm, it was his eyes she thought of.  Pale as clear waters with a touch of gold.  Piercing as knives, keen as a hawk’s.  It was in his eyes that she could see the vestiges of the Black Wolf.  But today the howling beast was quelled and its call only sounded mournful. 

Chapter Text

The fringe of the Ghimlyt Dark was a liminal space, where years past and the present collided.  Constant skirmishes with the Empire left the burning stench of ceruleum ever wafting about the air.  It was a nostalgic feeling, walking beneath the wooden barricades.  The sight of the violet banner of Ala Mhigo waved overhead and he studied it passively, lips pursed and mind in a thousand different places at once.  He mused over the ground he walked upon, musing over how he had once owned it.  Or believed he had, in his folly.  Did a puppet really own anything?

The Ruby Weapon sat just beyond their base of operations.  Far enough so that most of the details were obscured yet close enough that he could see its hulking crimson form.  Technicians had resumed picking it to pieces.  He could scarcely stomach it.  Each time they split the Ruby Weapon open further, more white liquid flowed out and he dared not ask what it was.  He feared he knew the answer.

Milisandia was on his mind.  Wondering if she had recognized him when he had tried to stop the Weapon’s approach and had fired her shots anyway.  If she had cried as she did it.  Or if she had felt anything at all.  He hoped for the latter.  That she had been numb to everything.  The emotional pain.  The physical pain.  As he watched the technicians peel back more of the Ruby Weapon’s sanguine body, he felt himself start to numb too.  But maybe numbness was better than the alternative. 

Kaida’s retreating footsteps faded and Gaius was left alone upon the ramparts to stare out at the mess that he had created.  Those seeds had had planted years ago, when he had been younger and blind to reality.  He gave himself more time to be tortured by the sight of the Ruby Weapon.  And then he made his eventual descent from the stairs, feeling nothing and everything.  His shoes hit the parched dirt and his peripherals caught a glimpse of someone watching him.  A slight turn of his head and Gaius identified the person at once.  Cid stood with his arms crossed, silver-blue eyes upon him.  Too far for normal conversation.  But too close to be a coincidence. 

“Cid,” Gaius said to break that insufferable silence between them.  He did not look at him, eyes focused forward.  “You look well.”

A sentiment that was not mutual, Gaius was certain.  But it was the start of waving the olive branch.  The start of a peaceful gesture.  All Cid would have to do was take it, if he felt inclined to.

Silence.  He knew Cid had heard him.  The way he shuffled told him so.  Cid had never been a hard one to read.  But he had never been an easy one to deal with either.  In his face, Gaius could see traces of Midas from years past.  Before Bozja.  Before Bahamut sank its claws into him.  A pragmatic sort, young and full of ideas.  But soft, in a way.  Soft and unlike the harshness of Garlemald.  It hurt, seeing traces of Midas in Cid.  It reminded Gaius of things long passed. 

“How did you survive?” Cid asked at last, eyes drawing to Gaius slowly, accusingly. 

“A stroke of luck and naught more,” Gaius said simply.  And that was all he could say about that.  The explosions in Praetorium had missed him somehow.  And Valdeaulin had thought to stay his hand for just a while longer. 

“Luck,” Cid laughed humorlessly.  “That you of all people…”

The words should have sounded harsh but they did not.  They weakened, fading into something less bitter.  Something far sadder.  Cid’s eyes swept to the ground and he kept them there for a long while.  Did he lament the cruelty of the world?  That a man who had played the part of the Emperor’s attack dog lived while so many died.  So many who had deserved more.  Gaius thought of Milisandia again and her smile.  A poor, misguided girl who had joined the military to appease him.  And whose hand had led her down that path?  He could blame no one but himself.

“A cruel irony,” Gaius agreed with Cid after a moment, finally mustering the strength to face him.  “And one I hope you come to accept.  I know not what the Warriors of Light have said to you but rest assured I am here only to put an end to what foolishness I began years ago.”

“They’ve said little to me, though I must confess I’ve only spoken to a few of them,” Cid replied. “But the blue-haired lass told me you saved her life.”

Blue-haired lass?  Ah.  Severa.  Gaius nodded slightly.  He would claim no glory in saving young maidens.  He only did what was right.  And he had paid the price for it.  His sword arm was damaged still, recovering under a myriad of bandages, and his leg fared no better.  She had thought to try to hamper the Ruby Weapon’s approach with explosives but the Weapon had been too powerful for them to even make a dent.  When the Weapon had turned on her, Gaius had gotten her out of the way before the gunfire hit.  A stray bullet hit his arm and the medics had told him to stay out of the next fight out of fear the wound would worsen.  His leg had suffered a gash in the retreat.

“She seems fond of you.  Far more than the Duskwight is,” Cid remarked. 

There was much Gaius could say on that but spouting what cruelties Valdeaulin had endured at the hands of the Empire was something he recognized was not his place to speak of.  He nodded slightly and left it at that.

“I want to believe that you’re here to put an end to the Weapon Project,” Cid said at last.  “I want to believe you’re the man I thought you were when I was growing up.  But I recall Praetorium well.  And everything before it.”

“I am not here to ask for your forgiveness,” Gaius replied.  “Consider me an asset to dismantling the Weapon Project.  A tool for the Alliance’s disposal.  I care not.”

“You’re bloody useful, aye, I’ll grant you that,” Cid retorted.  “But I have my grievances.  Ones that I never thought I would get to settle.  And now that I’m given a chance to…”

“You are free to settle whatever you must with me,” Gaius said.

“Were it that simple,” Cid remarked stiffly.  “I still haven’t forgotten how you took me in.  And I won’t lie; I’m still grateful for that.  My father was a man long gone by then.  We just didn’t realize how far gone at the time.”

His hand touched his stomach and Gaius mused over the gesture with growing dread in his chest.

Do not talk of Midas to me, boy.  There are old ghosts that ought to stay in the past on days like today.

“I recall Bozja now.”

Don’t, begged Gaius silently, jaw clenched.  He did not want to discuss this.  Not now, fresh from losing Milisandia.  But he knew not how to stop Cid from continuing.  And so the Black Wolf stood, silently enduring another pain.

“He shot me when I tried to interfere with Project Meteor.  Did you… know about that?” Cid asked.

He was out of his mind then.  There was naught any of us could do…

His heart ached with words he wished he could say to Cid but now was not the time for that.  There did not need to be any more complication.  Midas was… gone.  That was a reality Gaius had accepted long ago but that area of grief still felt raw some days.  Sometimes, time simply did not heal wounds as they should.

“No.  But I did suspect as much,” Gaius said.

Cid tore his gaze away from him, gritting his teeth.  A painful memory for him, Gaius was certain.  But there was no doubt in his mind that Midas had loved Cid.  It had been the primal who had razed his mind.  The primal who had fired off the bullet.  A fortunate turn of events for the lad at the time.  That had been what saved him in the end, getting him away from ground zero of the Incident.

In the end, he did what was best for you.  Even if he was unaware of it.  And he entrusted the rest to me.  A bitter burden but I love him enough to bear it.  Even if you rightfully loathe me.

“He loved you.  That was not him.  A truth that I need not tell you, I am sure.”

“I know,” Cid said and a pensive, solemn quiet passed over the two.

Gaius let the silence rule over the moment, taking in a deep breath.  There was much he wanted to say to Cid.  His mind tripped over itself for the words but nothing seemed right in that moment.  There was too much hurt and he would not impose any more upon him.  He did not have the right to.  The Black Wolf made to leave, a dismissive tone in his voice, “Anything you wish to know about the Weapon Project, you need only ask.  I would see it destroyed before more lives are lost.

“That pilot was a ward of yours,” Cid said and Gaius felt his blood turn to ice.  He was glad to have turned away, to shield Cid from the hurt in his tired amber eyes.

“Yes.”  A soft reply, unnaturally tender and mournful from a battle-hardened warrior.

“I’m sorry.  No one deserves a fate like that.”

Gaius agreed quietly and took his leave.

Chapter Text

“Are you certain that you don’t want to return to Ala Mhigo with us?” asked Listelle as they readied to board the airship back to the capital.

Kaida stood at the wayside of the ship’s hull, looking up the ramp and where the other Warriors of Light were boarding.  In all actuality, she was not sure what she wanted to do.  But with their number, they were enough to spread across several stations.  She did not want to leave the Ghimlyt Dark just yet; it still felt as though the situation there merited some amount of monitoring.  What if the next Weapon arrived faster than they anticipated?  What if they were caught up on more business on the First when it happened?  No, Kaida insisted on staying… even if it was hard to.

“Someone should keep an eye on things here,” Kaida said in return.

“Are you sure you’re all right?  You were awfully pale after the fight with the Ruby Weapon,” Listelle’s hands went to her hips.

“Keep an eye on the Wolf,” Cassandra grunted as she climbed the wooden ramp.  Not a glance spared back towards the Alliance camp—eyes set forward.  Kaida’s emerald eyes followed her, musing over the simple request (or… was it an order?).  She said nothing, however, looking back to Listelle.

“I’m all right.  Just make sure everything else isn’t about to explode, do you hear me?  I’ll only be a call away,” Kaida said and they soon finished up boarding.

When the airship took to the skies, she watched them go with a sigh.  It did feel wrong to stay, at least somewhat.  But leaving also felt equally wrong… Gah.  She hated the conflict that tugged at her heart.  There were so many days where she wished she could split herself into two and handle everything.  In the depths of her heart, she felt Fray stir.  “Fray” was what they liked to call themselves—that manifestation she had met when she had begun down the road of the Dark Knight.  They were dormant mostly, yet occasionally did she feel them churn within her, flitting emotions to the front of her mind.  Wordlessly did Fray communicate to her that she was overworking herself—or at least considering overworking herself.  Kaida grumbled and responded with mentally batting the shade away like an unwelcome gnat. 

The Raen wandered back to the stables where Enji was being held and gave him some extra strips of lettuce.  He chirped happily and she rubbed over his crimson feathers pensively.  The sound of him crunching into the leaves was loud in the stilled silence of the Ghimlyt Dark.  It made her skin dance with a weird feeling.  Outside sounded like the calm before a storm.  She was not sure she could weather something like the Ruby Weapon again.  Not so soon after, at the least. 

When she wandered away from the stables, she caught sight of him.  He was standing before one of the dummies that the Alliance had set up, gunblade in hand.  Its make was similar to others she had seen, but there was a distinctiveness about its hilt, as though it had been modified.  The way he wielded the lengthy blade was like a dance, each stroke carving into the dummy with swift expertise.  It was as though the metal was an extension of him; he moved as though he were a weapon and soon enough, his quarry bore the marks of it.  The dummies had been reinforced with magic, enough to prevent denting and scratches for the most part.  But Kaida noted that it seemed a bit more battered than it had the day before.  She gave a small nod in thought as Gaius turned away from the practice target.  A sway was in his step.  Her brows furrowed.

The tip of his gunblade sank into the parched ground and he leaned against his sword.  Pain was wrought across his face, deepening his scowl.  She found herself approaching him before she could think twice.  Arms crossed at her chest.

“You’re still injured, you know.”      

As if the pain did not serve as a reminder.

“I had not noticed.”

It was spoken with a certain levity that felt unlike him.  A tad scathing.  A tad vexed.  Kaida looked at him as he regained his composure, noting how he favored one leg.  He tightened the bandage around one of his arms, not meeting her eye.  That was a rarity—she felt like he often stared holes through her.  Those amber eyes of his were like needles normally… but on that day, they were dulled.  She wondered if the reality of the Ruby Weapon had sunken in yet.  It had been two days since the battle.

“You’re going to prolong your recovery if you keep this up.  And judging from the dummy…” Kaida said, eyes momentarily flitting to the wooden structure and then back to Gaius.  “… I think it would appreciate a reprieve from the onslaught.”

That gave him a small smile.  Brief and gone quickly, like a candle in the wind.

“There is no news yet, if that is what you are here to inquire about,” he said to her as he passed her by, sheathing his sword in its holster at his back.

“No.  I was only watching,” she replied.

“A nostalgic thing for you, I am certain.”

“You’re stronger than you were back then.”

Gaius Baelsar faltered for a moment.  “That remains to be seen.  Cassandra has departed?”

“She told me to keep an eye on you.”

A wry smirk wound its way to the edges of his mouth.  “It would seem you are doing a fine job at that.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve long decided that you are not here to stab us all in the back.  Literally and figuratively,” Kaida replied.

“I am honored.”

“Is that… sarcasm?  From you?”

No reply.  He continued walking and she turned to watch him, contemplative of his bizarre mood.  She pondered if this was him testing his limits post-injury.  There was only one reason he would be doing that—to lay assault upon the VIIth legion and recover his children.  Kaida feared it would not be so simple; his children had made their positions known.  If he were to recover them, it would be with them kicking and screaming the whole way back.  And that was assuming he was even well enough to do that.  If he left now, she was not sure he would even make it to the legion’s base alive.  He was too injured still.

“I know you’re hurting, Baelsar,” Kaida said, her words chasing him and rooting him where he stood.  A slight head tilt indicated he was looking at her from his peripherals.  She took a step forward.  “Stressing your wounds will not serve to make the situation better.”

“Tell me then what you would do, Little Dragon of Eorzea,” Gaius replied, his snide tone fading, replaced with a callousness.  “Would you not be driven to take action if you were in my position?  Or would you remain so tempered in your approach?”

He had her there; Kaida knew that the entirety of the Scions could not have kept her from trying to save her family.  She had the benefit of distance from the enemy; Gaius did not.  But the Raen would not admit defeat.  Her eyes went downcast for a moment and then, with revitalized resolve, went to him. 

“You called the Warriors of Light here for a reason and that is because you trust in our judgment,” Kaida pointed out.  “And I vow that I will make sure that what happened with the Ruby Weapon never happens again.”

“A bold claim.”

“It may be.  And it may be a vow that I will fail in upholding.  But I will try, Baelsar.”

“I never claimed to doubt you.”

“Is that why you’re testing your sword arm, then?  Because that reeks with trust.”

When her sardonic words faded into the air, he turned to face her.  The way his eyes glittered in the dreary light made them look like pieces of gold.  His stance oozed with confidence, his injured leg masked.  The way he looked at her made her feel a bit less like one of Eorzea’s greatest champions.  Instead, she felt a bit small—inside and out.

“There are things within a man’s power and there are things yet beyond it.  Even Hydaelyn’s chosen has limitations.  For all the prattling of the man I once was, I am yet humbled by what might cannot fix,” Gaius said to her.

It was a far cry from his speech at Praetorium.

“You do not think they will change their minds,” Kaida observed.

“I know they will not.  Not for all the strength that I can muster.  Not for all the strength you can muster.  The die was cast long ago and now the scales will measure the outcome,” Gaius replied.  “It is a bitter truth and yet I will test my blade against it before more lives are needlessly lost.  I must, even if it should be futile.”

“You’ll test your blade against nothing if you push yourself,” Kaida said.

“As their Father, it is my duty,” Gaius said somberly.  “And if my blade should not suffice, then I will beg them, if I must.  This bloodshed is inane.  I will see it end.”

“If you step out right now and try to fight the VIIth Legion, you’ll only die,” Kaida replied.  “And I cannot think of anything inaner than that.”

He hesitated.

“Allow me to be your blade,” Kaida continued.  “I don’t care to watch you throw yourself to the wolves out of a fatherly duty.”

“Your concern is ill-placed, Kaida Asagiri—”

“I believe I will be the judge of that.”

“These are my sins to bear—”

“Dying will solve nothing.  There is no one here who knows the Weapon Project like you do.  Not even Cid.  You’re needed.  I implore you to let me handle this.”

  He looked contemplative but gave a small nod before long.  “Very well.  I acquiesce.  But you must fulfill your duty to your realm first and foremost.  Should the worst happen, you will strike without mercy.  I could ask no more of you.”

“I will do all I can to save them.  For you, Baelsar.  And for them, too,” Kaida said carefully. 

He nodded once more.  “I count myself most fortunate that a woman of your caliber has offered aid in this endeavor.  I… can scarcely say I can think of a better person to act as my sword upon the field.  You’ve my gratitude.”

Her expression softened, the compliment washing over her like a warm wave.  The way his voice softened when he spoke was… uncharacteristic of what she imagined of the Black Wolf.  But it was a pleasant sound to listen to.  Remembering herself, Kaida shoved those thoughts down as quickly as she could.  “You may pay me back by living, Baelsar, and undoing what you’ve done.”

Gaius smiled for a moment—a strange sight.  It was melancholy and thoughtful, a wistfulness about his golden gaze.  And then he gave a slight nod, voice soft.

“As you wish, champion.”

Chapter Text

It was not lightly that she chose to leave the Alliance camp days later, when it had been confirmed that the Imperials had ceased their attacks and were regrouping.  Kaida was once more torn between staying and going to settle other business afield.  She grumbled about it as she packed her bags, tying them to Enji’s saddle as she made ready to depart back to Ala Mhigo.  Soon enough, she would make the lengthy trip back to Norvrandt.  It seemed as though things were escalating there.  The tension was rife and with the world still balancing so precariously on a knife’s edge, she could not afford to wait around for a battle that could very well not even happen.  The other Warriors of Light would need her help.

“We’ll miss seeing your face around here,” Cid said to her as she fastened the straps around the chocobo’s saddle, ensuring they were correctly tightened before she put more of a load onto his back.  “It’s about the only one that can still manage a smile.”

Kaida gave a small chuckle at that, looking over at him.  “It’s forced, for what it’s worth.”  On a normal day, she would not have admitted that but her filter was dying as the days wore on.  Cid laughed at her bluntness and the Raen continued. “It’s not your fault.  It just seems like every time we patch one problem up, another one arises.  Like trying to repair a boat at sea that’s slowly leaking.”

“Well, let us hope that this boat never sinks,” Cid replied, toying with his facial hair.  “It seems Gaius plans to stay as well… his injuries are worse than he’s letting on, I think.  It’s not like the Black Wolf to kennel himself so readily.”

She thought back to her conversation with Gaius just a few days prior, not meeting Cid’s eye as she did.  Kaida’s head bobbed in a nod. 

“I can’t believe he lives still,” Cid admitted after a moment, his typical venom when referring to the ex-legatus dropping ever so slightly.  “Sometimes, looking at him makes me feel as though I’m looking at a ghost.”

“He’s strong,” Kaida said.  “But I do not blame you for feeling that way.”

“I don’t like staying angry about something.  But this… being around him, even after speaking with him privately…” Cid’s voice trailed off.  “I do not know if I can do it.”

“You do not have to forgive him.”

“I know that.”

“I know you know that.  But sometimes, it helps to hear someone else say it.”

“Tch.  Since when did you get so wise?”

Kaida flashed him a grin.  “‘Wise’ when referring to me is usually followed by the word ‘ass’.  But no.  I would be lying if I said I had not heard someone else say that.”

“And who was that?” Cid asked.

Haurchefant.

“It does not matter,” she shook her head.  Some things were raw, even years later.  “I think he knows what he did was wrong, for what it’s worth.  I think he would understand if you wanted to keep your distance.  Not that… you should take his feelings into consideration, I mean.  He did wrong you after all.”

“He and my father were close.  I am sure I have mentioned that to you before,” Cid said quietly.  “Before Bozja, when my father had become enthralled… Gaius took me under his wing.  And I leaned upon him for support, not understanding the madness that had consumed my father.  And then the Incident happened.  And Gaius soon fell to his own desires—a clawing need to appease Emperor Solus.  Not unlike a sort of tempering, I would imagine.”

Hien told me once that the Emperors in Garlemald are revered like gods among men.  Convenient how the gods are banished from their bleak nation yet those in charge have no qualms about putting themselves on pedestals…

She reminded herself who had once sat the throne during Gaius’s life.  Emet-Selch’s burning yellow eyes taunted her from beyond the grave.  Bitter, she scowled at her chocobo’s saddle then let out a sigh.  All of Garlemald was a puppetmaster’s greatest creation.  All of those people, brainwashed from birth.  Pawns in a greater scheme.  It was heart-wrenching.

“Cid.  I’m glad you fled Garlemald when you did,” Kaida said quietly.  She did not want to think of the alternative.

“Aye.  So am I,” he replied.

He left not long after and Kaida readied herself to mount up Enji and take to the skies.  Yet before she did, she caught a glance of movement from her peripherals.  She sighed and turned to face the Black Wolf as he stalked his way into the stables.  A wrinkle of his nose indicated the scent of chocobo had hit him.  His amber eyes fell upon her sharply.

“How much of that did you hear?” Kaida asked in an accusing tone.

“Enough,” Gaius answered.  “Be at ease, girl.  I came to see you off.”

“Such a nice sentiment,” Kaida remarked.  “Don’t think for a moment that I have forgotten my vow to you.  I will be back soon enough, I wager.”

“I did not assume as much,” Gaius retorted.

“Good,” Kaida said, grabbing Enji’s saddle to pull herself onto it.

“Would a parting gift appease you?” Gaius asked.

She froze then looked back at him over her shoulder, completely taken aback by the question.  Would a… a gift?  From the Black Wolf?  A parting…?  Oh by the kami, what was she even supposed to say to that!?  Kaida took a moment to collect her thoughts and composure.  She drove it into her brain that she could not falter in front of him.  He was relying on her and she was insistent upon keeping up the pretense of being a collected, calm warrior. 

“I suppose that depends on the gift,” she said apprehensively.

A smirk crossed his features and she wanted to say that she did not get lost in it.  He reached into his pocket and pulled something small out.  It was a crystal, its small, frail body held carefully in his massive hand.  She had definitely not expected that.  It fell into her palm, shaped perfectly in the form of a slender diamond.  Its contents were a murky cyan-blue, giving off a soft glow in the dim light.  It was gorgeous and it stole her ability to reply adequately.  What was the meaning behind this?  Was it out of thanks for agreeing to help him?  Was he trying to butter her up?  Where had he even gotten it from…?

“T-thank you…” Kaida fumbled out after a moment of shocked silence.  “This is beautiful… and yet… I must ask… why…?”

“I’ve no need for it.  One of the Alliance medics claims it has a small amount of aether stored in it.  I thought it would be useful to someone who has the ability to manipulate magicks.  To me, it is little more than a trinket that weighs down my pocket,” Gaius replied and Kaida nodded.  Oh.  Yes.  That made more sense.  Far more sense than what her mind had initially gone to. 

“I-I’m sure I can find some use for it,” Kaida said, very much aware of the blush taking to her nape.  “Let me know if aught changes.  Farewell, Baelsar.”

She and Enji left shortly after, the chocobo’s feet thudding against the ground until it gained enough speed to take flight.  Kaida kept the crystal tucked into a small, clasped pouch at her waist.  She knew he was watching her as she flew away.  She tried not to think about him.  She tried not to think about the crystal either.  But soon enough, the Alliance camp had vanished from view and Kaida found herself strangely smiling.  It was the lightest her heart had felt in days.    

Chapter Text

It was not often that Kaida Asagiri received gifts and even less often that she found herself so taken by what was given to her.  Upon her return to Ala Mhigo, the Raen had opted to fetch two things for the crystal that Gaius had gifted to her—the first was a clasp to fasten around the device, complete with a small metallic loop.  The second was a silver chain in which she could wear the crystal when she wanted.  It was small enough to fit under her clothes and Kaida did wear it under her armor… but when she was in her casual wear, she wore it proudly at her nape, on display for all to see.  She had, of course, not divulged where she had gotten the crystal from.  Not many had asked, thankfully.  Kaida was not great at lying and she did not want people to suspect that—kami forbid—she had gone soft on Gaius Baelsar.

… Even though she was starting to.

… Okay, perhaps she was already soft for him, in a pitying way.

Kaida held the crystal by its silver chain, letting it spin and dance under the waning sunlight of the Empty.  Thancred and Ryne had insisted upon continuing their efforts with restoring the barren wasteland and Kaida had answered their call for aid.  But they were between fights now and Kaida’s idle hands often toyed with Gaius’s gift to her.  She watched each side of the crystal reflect light, shimmering like a diamond, a passive but warm smile on her lips. 

“You’ve been smiling at that thing an awful lot lately,” said Listelle Viyrel from where she sat next to the campfire. 

“Hm?” Kaida asked her, torn from her thoughts as her emerald eyes flitted from the crystal to her fellow Raen.

“You heard what I said,” Listelle replied with a tiny huff.  “There’s something on your mind, isn’t there?”

“What?  No!” Kaida protested.

“Listelle’s onto something, I think,” Aurelia tutted from nearby. “You have been staring at that for some time now, Kaida.  One would think you obsessed.  Where did you find that anyways…?”

“Ahhhh…” Kaida said, hugging the crystal close to her chest.  “In a pawn shop.”

“A pawn shop,” said Aurelia, her doubt written clearly in her tone.  She had brought with her a small alchemist’s set and was busy preparing a few vials of potions for the next fight—whenever that would be.  But as she worked, Kaida caught the telltale signs of a smirk on the Garlean’s lips. 

“Yes,” came Kaida’s vehement insistence, not meeting any of their gazes.  She was not sure she could look at them without exposing the lie.

“Kaida,” Listelle began, arms crossed at her chest.  “I cannot help but get the feeling you’re not being entirely honest.”

“Oh and do you have proof of that?” Kaida shot back, still clutching the crystal to her chest.

“I’ve known you for years now and I hardly ever recall you acting this way,” Listelle replied. “So where did you find it?  Or did someone…” She leaned in.  “Give it to you?”

“Oh, you all are ridiculous,” Kaida huffed, putting the necklace back on and tucking the crystal under her shirt.  Its cold surface was pinned to her skin by her clothes but she ignored it, looking out across at where the red and green crystal in the middle of the Empty stood.  As she took in its glow, she ruminated upon her next step.

I could tell them… but… gods, that would be nothing short of a social suicide.  Accepting gifts from the Black Wolf.  Aurelia might understand.  But the others?  I don’t want them to question my intentions when I inevitably do get called back to Ala Mhigo…

“If you wish to keep your secrets, then that is fine, Kaida,” Aurelia said, the reassurance most welcome.

“I won’t lie though, I’m preeeetty curious,” Listelle remarked.  “You know, I haven’t seen a grin on your face like that since…”

Aurelia shot her a warning look and Listelle corrected herself, shrugging.  “Look.  If there’s someone out there who makes you happy, Kaida, you should pursue it.”

Face igniting with a blush, Kaida looked to her in shock.  Someone who made her happy?  Gaius Baelsar?  The goddamn Black Wolf?  Perish the thought.  Perish the goddamn thought.  She was dismantled for a moment, faltering and fumbling.  Her hand went to the lump at her chest where the crystal was, eyes downcast.  Kaida could not fathom that thought.  There was not a man who had made her feel any sort of way since…

Haurchefant.

… But that had been a long time ago and that memory was calloused over now.

“I promise you, it’s nothing of the sort,” Kaida said finally.

“If you say so,” Listelle replied and Kaida rose from the ground.  “Where are you going?”

“I just need to stretch my legs,” Kaida replied evasively, hoping that a moment of solitude would somehow calm her nerves.

She made her way from the camp, the sounds of their campfire crackling and fading into naught behind her.  The twilight sky lit the horizon aflame, the glow of the Empty’s central crystal even brighter in the arriving darkness.  Stars glittered through the final light of day.  Kaida looked up at it with an indescribable feeling lodged in her chest.  Listelle's words haunted her mind, chasing her as she mentally tried to clear her head.  Someone who made her happy… what a strange thought that was—alien, now.  Kaida had long decided to dedicate her blade and soul to her Warrior of Light tasks.  Even as her peers found love around her, it felt like something never meant for her—a facet of life she could not see herself in.  It was isolating, that feeling but she cemented herself into it.  Her hand touched the crystal once more, eventually bringing it out of her shirt.  It held a soft cyan glow of aether that only seemed all the brighter when nestled in her palms.       

Like a star in a stone…

When she looked at it, she thought of him and a warmth crept up her nape, infecting her scaled cheeks.  It put a smile on her lips, secretive and giddy.  Her hands closed over the gem and she looked out across the Empty.  There were no words she could put to the lightness in her chest but she welcomed it, for it felt akin to a sanctuary in the midst of a storm.

There had been nothing left to bury of Milisandia but that did not mean Gaius had not done his best to give her the proper resting place she deserved.  What was left of her body had been encased in an urn and placed under the soil at the Ghimlyt Dark amid the debris from the skirmishes.  It was not the place he would have wanted to lay her to rest but it was better than nothing.  He went to the site every day, a poor man without even flowers to offer her.  All he could give were his thoughts, darkened with grief.  The unfairness of it all hurt, that fathers had to bury their children, but it was a reality he had grown accustomed to in the time he had spent as a legatus.  How many times had he seen his men suffer the same pain he did?  He had no common ground with them then, other than marching under the same banner for the same “noble” cause.  But now he thought back and he felt their anguish in his chest rise into the depths of his throat. 

Gaius Baelsar did not cry.  He had not spared a tear for Livia nor Rhitahtyn when their deaths became known to him.  He did not cry for Milisandia either.  But the ache in his chest threatened to kill him from the pain and the Black Wolf felt as though it would soon tear from his skin.  It raged against its staunch prison and he could offer it no release.  His hand went to the grave stone they had left for her.  Cid’s men had been the ones to engrave her name upon it.  Carefully did his thumb trace the letters of her name.  An exhale came in the form of a sigh from his nostrils and his head lowered.  Still no tears, only a grief that felt too much for him.

Footfalls from behind alerted him, soft enough to give reverence to the desolate battlefield but loud enough that Gaius knew it was not a would-be assassin.  When he looked back, he saw Valdeaulin.  The duskwight paused then folded his arms over his chest with a sigh. 

“Were you afraid that I had gone after the VIIth?” Gaius asked, the words falling numbly from his lips.  His attention fell back to Milisandia’s grave.

“Cid was,” Valdeaulin said.  “My fears stemmed more from the notion you had gone off to join them.”

A brusque and cruel statement but Gaius let it wash over him.  The Wolf’s next few words were crisp.

“I am curious as to your logic behind that theory.”

“A bid to save your children.  Perhaps by offering your services.  I know full well your talents include the construction of Weapons and piloting them.”

“What the VIIth has done… is unconscionable.  No, I will not throw in my lot with them.  As I have said before, my time as the Black Wolf is—”

“Over?” Valdeaulin asked.  “Do you truly believe you can walk away from that, Gaius?”

Gaius gave no reply and Valdeaulin’s scoff rang out across the empty Ghimlyt Dark.

“I thought not.  And now that you have made yourself known to the Alliance, they are not like to let you forget your misdeeds either.”

Above, the sky was beginning to dim into the first hour of night.  Stars broke through the veil of twilight, glittering far away.  He lifted his gaze to them, hand slipping from Milisandia’s grave.  Nights like these felt sentimental, burdened with emotion.  But such was his lot in life.  It was his cross to bear, these feelings of guilt and sorrow.  What mattered most was stopping the VIIth and saving as many lives as they could.  Solus zos Galvus’s poison could not be suffered to hurt anyone else.

“Let them remember, then.  When all is done, I will accept their judgment.”

As he passed Valdeaulin by, he sensed the elezen had more to say.  It did not come until the Garlean had walked two yalms.

“You learn to endure it.  The loss,” Valdeaulin said to him and Gaius hesitated before taking his next step.

He was no stranger to this feeling.  Livia and Rhitahtyn were still fresh wounds some days.  But the sentiment was appreciated nonetheless.

Gaius did not return immediately to the Alliance camp.  Instead, he found solace on a ridge overlooking the destruction that lay scattered about the Ghimlyt Dark.  As the last traces of day fell into night, he cast his gaze to the stars.  A wind ruffled through his hair.  He thought of Kaida and the crystal he had given her—the light in her eyes.  It was enough to dull the ache in his chest, to put a small, albeit grim smile on his face.  He felt his age in his back lately.  The world was a tad too wearying for his liking…

But that light in her eyes.  Maybe there were still moments yet to cling to.

Chapter Text

She did not want to admit she still dreamed about the Ruby Weapon weeks later, when the final cinders of that fight should have long faded.  But she did.  She still dreamt of the screams of that poor girl as she was consumed by the Weapon’s core.  She still dreamt about the visage of the fallen Nael deus Darnus bursting from the metallic hull like a deranged butterfly coming out of metamorphosis.  When she thought of it, she thought of the crystal Gaius had gotten her.  When memories of that fight returned, she found herself clutching the small trinket, feeling the gentle hum of aether under her fingertips.  It was enough to ground her, soothe her back into the present.

I am never going to let that happen again.

She had vowed it to Gaius.  She had vowed it to herself.  She never wanted to hear the screams of someone die like that again.  She never wanted to fail to save someone like that again.  Kaida was not sure she could bear another failure like that.

Sometimes people die.  And there’s nothing you can do to change it.

Her thoughts played out, its voice morphing, changing.  Soon enough, she stood alone in that Ala Mhigo room with naught but a shadow behind her.  Fray was somewhere between an unwanted roommate and a dear friend.  They lingered in the back of her mind, a cynical side some days and a logical side on others.  Kaida felt them before she turned to look back at where they leaned against the bedroom wall.

“You have learned this lesson once.  With Nanamo.  With Haurchefant.”

Kaida sighed.  That did not make the lesson any easier to bear.

“They called you back here, to Ala Mhigo.  There is another Weapon to fight, I assume,” Fray continued.  “Do not let your vow to the Wolf deter you from anything that must be done.”

“I won’t,” Kaida replied firmly.

“You think of him often as of late.”

She did not like that statement in the slightest.

“I think of the fear he must feel.  About his children,” Kaida’s retort was stiff.

Fray did not buy it.  “You’re like a little girl with that crystal.  Care that you don’t attach sentiments to it that you cannot take back.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Kaida accused.

“You are hopeless—that is what I mean.  But that is enough of that talk.  The Alliance camp awaits and you will no doubt face another creation of the VIIth Legion soon.  What do you plan to do if you find that each of these children are beyond saving?” Fray asked her.

“That isn’t possible,” Kaida replied.

“It is.  You do not want to think things could be so grim but you must acknowledge the worst case scenario, Kaida Asagiri,” Fray said.  “It would be arrogance to assume all will go according to your wishes.  You know this well by now.”

“Optimism is not arrogance, Fray,” Kaida retorted, walking to the bed where her bag lay.  It was packed for the quick flight to the camp at Ghimlyt.  All she needed to do was head to the stables and take Enji.  “You ought to try it sometime.”

“Do not deflect with such quips,” Fray remarked.

“I already know that I cannot save everyone,” Kaida said, grabbing the bag’s strap and hoisting it over her shoulders—taking care not to get it caught on one of her armor’s pauldrons.  “But what was I supposed to do?  He was hurting.  And I… I can understand why.”

“That you pity even the people you once feared…” Fray began.

“Some would say that it is strength.  But I just think of it as being human,” Kaida replied and began towards the door.

Fray gave a cynical snort. “What next, Kaida Asagiri?  Will you pity Zenos yae Galvus?”

She paused before her hand grabbed the doorknob.  And then the Raen tossed over her shoulder.  “I feel as though that’s a tad less likely.”

And with that, she was off.

When a large Ironworks airship clouded the skies over the Alliance camp, Gaius knew something was amiss.

Severa had been firm on preventing him from doing any spy work in the lull after the Ruby Weapon was downed, which left him all but grounded in the camp.  Valdeaulin had opted to track the VIIth Legion alone and Gaius loathed that he had been left behind.  Yet he could not argue with the decision overmuch; he knew his wounds were greater than he was admitting to himself.  His already scarred body would endure more scars from the Weapon’s attack.  It was fitting, he thought.  A punishment he could stomach.

Still wounded, the Black Wolf paced and he waited and he watched and he listened.  It did not take a genius to uncover that Cid Garlond had been up to something.  Something big, by the looks of the delivery his ship was making to the camp.  It came in a large, concealed container—not inconspicuous but definitely still mysterious.  Gaius watched the crew lower it carefully to the burnt and charred ground, his amber eyes glittering in thought. 

“I called for the Scions to send us a few of their Warriors,” Cid’s voice almost alarmed Gaius—almost, but the engineer could not mask the sound of his boots against the crackling ground underfoot.  “The representatives ought to be here soon.”

Gaius grunted his reply.  The tension between the two was still thick and the Wolf had no energy to feign pleasantries. 

“Valdeaulin has returned,” Cid continued and that warranted Gaius’s full attention.  “He says he has tracked the Ruby Weapon’s trajectory down to the very coordinates of the base it was launched from.”

“And where might that be, pray tell?” Gaius inquired in a rumbling, husky tone, though he was quite certain he knew the answer.

“Werlyt.”

The name was a ghost from the past.  Gaius’s expression was unshifting but his heart felt it—a clanging pain that radiated from chest to each corner of his body.  Werlyt—one of his victims as the Black Wolf.  Years before the Empire had annexed it, a horrendous plague had ravaged the population.  The city saw many dead and from those dead had come many orphans.  Some of his wards had been victims of such circumstances, starving on the streets before the Imperials had invaded.  Gaius believed in those days, he had saved their lives.  Now, he feared he had set them up to die. 

“Ah.  It would seem Kaida is nearly here,” Cid said, touching a linkpearl in his ear.

Gaius’s gaze snapped to Cid.  He said naught though his mind quickly found itself dissolving into a tempest of thoughts and emotions.  Kaida had vowed to do everything she could to save his children and he believed that she would.  She had ever proven herself a woman to her word.  But Gaius was not blind; she was as flawed as any other mortal.  There was only so much she could do… but he hoped his fears were naught more than paranoia.  Milisandia was gone but perhaps the others could be saved. 

“What do you make of Eorzea’s Little Dragon?” Gaius asked Cid and the engineer’s perplexed expression fell upon him.

“An odd question for someone who prides himself in knowing everything,” Cid remarked.  Just a tad scathing this time, Gaius noted.  The Garlond prodigy carried on.  “Kaida has always been a reliable sort.  She pushes herself, perhaps too much for her own good.  You… understand that I have known her for years at this point.  She is a good friend.”

The telltale signs of aggression in his tone did not go unnoticed but Gaius did not acknowledge it.  Cid’s silvery gaze was piercing but Gaius’s apathetic exterior deflected his glare. 

“I am aware she took up the moniker after my downfall at Praetorium,” Gaius said, passive as his eyes turned to the distant horizon, beyond which lay Ala Mhigo.  He saw the incoming chocobo—crimson in plume.  It took much to stifle his smile, though his features betrayed him by softened slightly.  “A reference to Midgardsormr, I have been told.  When the realm was threatened, it was not the Father of Dragons that rose to defend it but a selection of champions, each bearing their own title and renown.  One of which was likened to the Dragon King.”

“I believe so, yes,” Cid said, crossing his arms. 

That dragons ended my campaign for Eorzea twice…

He caught Cid’s continued scrutinizing look.  Gaius tried to ignore it, watching as the chocobo began its descent outside of the Alliance camp. 

“Spare me your glare.  Tis an impressive title—that is all I wished to comment upon,” Gaius said. 

“I see…” Cid’s voice trailed as the gates to the outpost began to swing open.

An Alliance soldier, clad in the garb of Ala Mhigo, went to greet Kaida upon her bird as the Raen swung a leg over its back to dismount.  She landed on the ground and the guard began to search her.  Cid gave a scoff.

“I hardly think that’s necessary, given she’s a bleedin’ Warrior of Light,” he remarked and the soldier sheepishly retreated. 

Kaida looked the same as she had the day that she had departed; her armor was in pristine condition and her cyan sword sat upon her back, its glow stifled by a sheath.  Her vibrant green eyes turned from her boots to the approaching duo of Garleans, meeting Gaius’s gaze.  He saw her expression brighten slightly—or perhaps it was a trick of the dim lighting in that dreary place.  Yet soon enough, her attention was turned to Cid and she offered him a smile. 

“The others will be along shortly,” Kaida said.  “They have been investigating a ruin of some such on the First.  Weird business with the dwarves or… something.  I grew too impatient to wait for them.”

“We’ll see if they’re needed.  A report has just come in and I have yet to hear it in its entirety myself,” Cid replied.  “I called you here pre-emptively, I will admit.  But I assumed the Scions of the Seventh Dawn would be interested to hear the full report of our Ruby Weapon investigation.”

“Of course,” Kaida said lightly, her eyes dodging to Gaius for a moment.  “… Baelsar.”

It was stiff.  But it was not hostile.  Not like the last time they had greeted each other.

“Lady Asagiri,” Gaius said in turn.

The three of them began towards the main tent, where Valdeaulin would be debriefed after his mission to Werlyt.  Kaida was a half-step in front of the two Garleans, green eyes directed in front of her.  Chin held slightly high—posturing.  He recognized that steely look from before.  She was small but there was a confidence that oozed from her

“I trust your wounds are healing apace,” Kaida said, not looking to him.

“The chirurgeons ensure me I will be battle-fit in a few moons.  I was hoping for sooner,” Gaius replied.  Still stiff.  Still formal. 

“Have we no healers in the camp?  No conjurers from the Shroud?” Kaida asked, looking to Cid.

“A few,” Cid answered with the tug of his hand about his facial hair.

“And you will not see them?” Kaida asked Gaius pointedly.

“They have seen me in their tent enough, I wager,” the Black Wolf grunted.  “Let resources be spent on those actively fighting on the frontlines.”

“The frontlines seem quieter than when I was here last,” Kaida pointed out and Gaius’s mouth cracked into a small, defeated smile.

“Your point is made, Lady Asagiri,” Gaius relented.

“Good.” Crisp but he saw it—the ghost of smile, fleeting for a single, ephemeral moment on her features.  And then she slowed slightly, looking once more to Cid.  “Cid, I saw that airship of yours delivering something quite large to the camp.”

“Aye, you did,” Cid said with a mysterious grin.

 “… Care to enlighten me?” Kaida asked.

“Perhaps in due time,” Cid retorted and Kaida gave a snort of disbelief, looking somewhere between irritated and amused.  “The report from Valdeaulin is more important.”

The Duskwight was found in a tent near a large meeting table that had been imported from Ala Mhigo.  A map of Hydaelyn had been stretched out in front of it, with a few areas of interest impaled with pins.  But neither the table nor the map seemed to hold any interest to the dreary thaumaturge, his striking lavender eyes glazed over in thought while Severa loitered nearby, equally pensive.  Gaius felt a stirring in his gut.  From what Cid had told him, the next Weapon was at least almost operational.  Yet judging from Valdeaulin’s expression, the Black Wolf sensed as though the situation was worse than that. 

They stepped under the tent’s canopy and the Duskwight’s eyes seemed to reignite back into focus.  He looked to Kaida then to Gaius.

“I will let Valdeaulin say his piece first,” Cid said.  “After, I can go over our findings with Kaida.”

“I traced the Ruby Weapon’s path back to the occupied territory of Werlyt, which appears to be where it was built,” said the hard-eyed elezen, sparing not a moment for pleasantries.  Gaius was fine with that—time was ticking and there was much to do to brace for the next Weapon attack.  “The place is now rife with imperials.  They have established an airship supply depot in the coastal town of Terncliff.  According to the locals, something resembling one of the Weapons was transported there a few days ago.”

“‘Resembling’?  These Weapons are not entirely inconspicuous,” Kaida pointed out.

“Yes.  Resembling,” Valdeaulin replied.  “After hearing the report, I have reason to believe the Weapon is mostly operational.  Enough, at least, to have engaged in combat previously.”

Gaius’s brow furrowed.

“But not against the Alliance?” Kaida asked.

“No,” Valdeaulin replied.  “Against a primal.”

“Explain,” Gaius said at once.

“It is difficult to say for certain,” Valdeaulin began.  “But according to the reports, the primal has already begun devouring primals, summoned by beast tribes that the VIIth Legion has taken to harassing.”

“Provoking the beast tribes into summoning so he can have the Weapon devour the primal, thus bolstering its power,” Kaida said.  “It’s not an unfamiliar tactic.”

Gaius felt that jab but he deflected it with apathy; what mattered now was stopping the VIIth and saving any he could.  Yet before he could make any suggestions, Cid cleared his throat quite loudly.

“Right, well, that sounds pretty bloody rough to deal with,” the engineer said, shifting his weight and scratching the back of his head.  “… So how about I tell you what was in that box earlier.”

Chapter Text

“I still can’t help but feel as though there’s likely a better person to pilot this than me,” Kaida Asagiri said to Severa as the two of them walked near the towering G-Warrior’s feet.

When Cid had lain out his plans to engage the Sapphire Weapon in combat over the ocean, Kaida had suspected an airship would be involved.  The Ironworks had no shortage of pilots suitable for the task.  And then Cid had revealed the G-Warrior and his plans to all but shove Kaida into the cockpit.  Despite her protests that they could wait for someone who was more magitek-savvy for the job, he gave her a stern reminder that time was of the essence and most of her peers were out doing various tasks across two worlds.  The Raen’s shoulders had slumped in defeat and she had gradually begun coming to terms with the fact that she would be entrusted with the machina.  There was no doubt in her mind that the G-Warrior was worth the price of the entire Lavender Beds and she could already see herself crashing it somehow.

“Ideally, someone skilled with a machina such as this would be designated its pilot.  But Cid has informed us that his employees are all presently assigned to other tasks and Gaius is still.... You understand he was gravely injured fighting the Ruby Weapon,” Severa said to Kaida as the two of them surveyed the hulking creation.  “He is not well enough to fly.  Not yet at least.  Would that I had been faster at evading the Weapon’s attacks…”

“It’s not your fault,” Kaida replied.  “It was not exactly an easy battle to win.”

“And yet I can’t help but feel guilty.  If Gaius had not intervened, I would have died that day and he paid the price for it,” Severa replied, looking to her.  “I owe him my life.  I owe him several times over, if I’m honest.  Our journeys together have led us to our fair share of perils.  Though some might say we asked for it, going after Black Rose so vigorously.”

“I can imagine,” Kaida remarked.  “But without such risks, Eorzea would be in a much worse state.”

Worse than I think any could imagine, from what G’raha said…

“I will not downplay our efforts,” Severa said.  “And nor will I take full credit.  Without Gaius, none of this would be possible.  The Empire would have used it by now and I shudder to think what would have happened.”

I don’t disagree.  The Wolf delivering the Eorzea Alliance information about Black Rose helped save us. 

“You speak highly of him.  Gaius van Baelsar,” Kaida spoke airily.  “But I suppose you must know him better than most, having traveled with him for so long.”

“A few years, yes,” Severa said.  “He… found me one day in the wilds.  It was not a happy time for either of us.  But I don’t regret my choice to go with him.”

That tone in her voice.  Is it admiration or something more?

Kaida’s side-eye to the azure-haired hyur was fleeting, returning her gaze quickly to the warmachina.  For some reason, a pit felt as though it had opened in her stomach.  She did not like this unease that coursed her yet the Raen could not place its origin.

“The place where the VIIth has set up their headquarters at is my homeland.  Werlyt,” Severa continued and Kaida was momentarily relieved that the topic had shifted from Gaius to the mission at hand.  “It is a place that has been under Garlean control for some time now.  A scarred, melancholy land.  I never thought I would go back.”

Kaida’s brow furrowed.  “I almost feel as though I should offer the pilot position to you, then.  No doubt you’ve more experience with this sort of thing than I do.”

Severa’s smile was polite but a touch sad.  “I am afraid we are equally inexperienced.  If Cid believes you are the woman to pilot the G-Warrior, then far be it for me to argue.  I do not care to play a leading role in whatever there is to come.  I only care that the mission is a success.  Werlyt is home to me no longer.”

I suppose I can relate.  The Ruby Sea is my homeland… but sometimes, it does not feel like home anymore.  Home is the Rising Stones, with Tataru brewing a pot of tea for us all and Thancred trying to juggle his knives and Urianger with his nose buried in a book.

“He speaks highly of you, you know,” Severa said to her.

The statement caught her off guard, even though it should not have surprised her.  Underneath her tunic did the crystal he had given her seemed to burn where it touched against her skin—not unpleasantly so, but enough to remind her that she was touting about a semblance of the Wolf’s affections.  Affections—gods, that felt sinful to think.  She prayed the dismal atmosphere of Ghimlyt was enough to wash out the blush at her cheeks, unable to meet Severa’s eye.

“I told him I would protect his children.  I mean to keep to my word,” Kaida responded, surprised at how neutral she had managed to keep her voice.

Even if it’s impossible, I must try.  I must always try…

She thought of Haurchefant again.

It’s simply what a hero does.

“I don’t suppose I’ll have much in the way of reinforcements,” Kaida commented thoughtfully.

“You would be correct.  We’ve scarcely the supplies here to push aerially into Werlyt,” Severa replied.  “Cid will be in constant communication with you via radio.  I imagine Gaius will as well.”

“He ought to be resting, no?  He still limps from his injuries.”

“If you can convince him to rest, it would be welcome.  But I’m afraid even I could not sway him.  He prowls the camp restlessly and seems to care little for his health.”

No doubt stressing over the plight of his children.

“I see…” Kaida’s words trailed.

“… You’re a healer, are you not?” Severa asked, the question jerking the Raen’s head in her direction.

I was.  Once.  A long time ago.

“Not so much these days,” Kaida replied.

“I see.  Well, I had hoped you would be able to talk sense into him,” Severa said.  “Since he seems to value your opinion so highly.”

Kaida was not sure if she was imagining the accusations in Severa’s tone or not.  The Raen maintained her composure, glancing to Severa briefly before looking back to the G-Warrior. 

“I don’t suppose anyone is stubborn enough to out stubborn that old man.”

Severa chuckled, the sound of it diffusing part of Kaida’s tensions. 

“You may be right about that.”

The two stood in silence for a few moments, taking in the sight of the warmachina before them. 

“Once the G-Warrior is ready for your training simulation, I will let you know,” Severa said after the lull in their conversation had passed.  “Until then, it may benefit you to rest.  The push into Werlyt will not be an easy one.”

Kaida stood in the G-Warrior’s shadow for a few moments longer, taking in its towering height before heeding Severa’s advice.  She found food and drink and settled onto a nearby barrel.  The grim aura of the day had not subsided in the slightest yet the Raen found herself growing accustomed to the dusty bitterness that was the battlefront.  She ate in silence, taking in the sounds of camp—distant chatter, winds whipping across the plain, the sound of a few moans from the medic’s tent nearby, the unrestful stomping of chocobo feet as the breeze shifted and brought the scent of ash with it.  Her gaze faded over in a mixture of thoughts, her attention only summoned out of her when she heard a duet of familiar voices—arguing, from what it sounded.  Kaida’s head swung to peer over her shoulder, back at where the distinct forms of Cid and Gaius stood.

“All I mean to say is that this creation ill-suits your alleged ideals, the very ones you proclaimed to me at the height of your Operation Archon,” came the Wolf’s gravelly voice.  “Though it may be a boon for liberating Werlyt, I would ask it destroyed afterwards.  Man cannot be trusted with such things—this we already know.”

“I cannot disagree with you on that one.  But the G-Warrior will be in capable hands.  It will have to be; constructing it was likely the most expensive endeavor yet for the Ironworks,” Cid grunted, dismissively waving a hand.  “Jesse only approved of the project if a long-term goal was set for it.  With a skilled pilot, the G-Warrior could act as a defense force for the region.  You are aware, of course, that it’s been naught short of a stalemate as of late.  If the Empire means to break it with Weapons then what more can we do—”

“Cid,” Gaius interrupted him.  “That is enough.  This path leads to nowhere you want it to go.”

“The Weapon stays,” Cid insisted.  “It has to.  Even with trouble in the capital, the Alliance is still hard-pressed against whatever active legions remain.  And after… after that has been resolved, we can discuss dismantling it.”

“…Very well,” Gaius grumbled and Cid walked away with his eyes slightly downcast, leaving the Wolf to stare after him.

When Gaius’s amber eyes fell upon her, she realized she had been staring at the exchange quite openly.  She shoved more of her lunch into her mouth, averting his gaze but feeling it persist.  What was there to say—Kaida was not sure.  A part of her understood Gaius’s fears—anything of that level of power could be used for evil so easily.  Every Weapon they had faced so far had proven that.  But perhaps Cid was right in that they needed to up the ante if they wanted to make meaningful progress.  It was a fine line to walk and failing to walk it properly could result in a heavy price to pay. 

“Alea iacta est,” Gaius’s voice was a murmur upon the wind but she heard its deep tone like a distant growl of thunder. 

Once, she might’ve asked him what it meant but through the Echo did its meaning come to her.

The die is cast.

What Cid had put into motion could never be taken back.

Kaida’s eyes turned to the G-Warrior and in its face, she saw the Ultima Weapon.  It sent a strange prickle across her skin and scales, enough to stir her stomach unpleasantly.  She lowered her hands to her lap, staring across at the gargantuan construction with a newfound sense of unease.  History certainly had been written by those who had stood in their very position.  Power was at their fingertips and yet power corrupted so quickly, so absolutely.  Kaida wondered what their chapter in history would be when it was all done.  What would the G-Warrior be remembered as?  A weapon of salvation or a weapon of destruction?

I suppose I’ll be the one to determine that.  For now, at least.

She glanced at where Gaius had been standing to find him gone, slipped away somewhere into camp without a sound.  The Raen marveled over how he was like a wolf in so many ways—concerned for his pack and so soft-footed that even her keen hearing had not detected his departure.  It put a soft smile to her face and for the thousandth time that day, she touched where the crystal sat at her chest.  Aether hummed against her fingers, a pleasant rumble that reminded her of warmth like the sun.

Chapter Text

It happened before she could stop it.  Strapped in the G-Warrior, all Kaida could do was watch as the Sapphire Weapon’s Oversoul was activated.  The Raen slammed the thrusters forward, praying that somehow a collision would halt the fatal process.  But it was too late; a surge of energy batted the G-Warrior away and the world spun all around her.  Kaida felt a scream tear from her lips as she tried to right the warmachina before it plunged into the ocean.  She fought against the controls, teeth gnashed until she steadied it.  When she looked up, the Sapphire Weapon was lunging towards her and she took evasive maneuvers to buy herself time to think.

But all her thoughts were drowned in her horror.  Her mind flashed back to the simulacrum of Nael and the horror of what had happened to the Ruby Weapon’s pilot.  She thought back to her promise to Gaius, that she would bring his children home.  But those words felt so foolish now; she had failed once more.  There would be nothing left of them to bring back.

A screen appeared to her right, next to the one showing Cid’s face.  Gaius seemed emotionless, unaffected.  It was a mask, she knew.  The mask of a legatus who had already buried children and friends.  Her grip on the G-Warrior’s controls tightened and Kaida could not meet his eye.

“I will be monitoring the situation from the air.  Follow my instructions and eliminate the target.”

It was all Gaius said, smooth as warmed butter and cold as Coerthan ice.  She could offer no verbal response, giving a single nod.  There was nothing left to say—her failure stung, burned like fire.  All she could do was put this poor soul out of their misery and curse herself for being so powerless.  Kaida’s eyes flashed with remorse and rage as she sent the G-Warrior forward, its blade ablaze like a blue sun.

Before she knew it, the fight was over and Kaida stood in the hanger of the imperial base as the Ironworks hustled all around her.  Their footsteps were muted, their shouts and chatter echoing and incoherent against her horns.  She stared ahead blankly, hands clasped at her collarbone.  Her heart thrummed in every ilm of her, sore from shock and horror.  They had pulled her out of a damaged G-Warrior half a bell ago and all she could do was stand there as Cid and his engineers worked on getting the Sapphire Weapon to shore.  She thought to herself how she wished she had not been the Warrior of Light to answer the call that day.  Maybe someone else more competent could have done a better job.  Maybe Sahja or Aurelia or Cassandra or… anyone.  Anyone but her.  Though her hands were still clad in her gauntlets, she felt them shake, wet and clammy from sweat. 

In her mind, she played over and over again the conversation she had with Gaius.  The desperation in his old tired eyes that day haunted her.  She could not imagine the pain of losing children.  And that she had let this happen again was too much for her to bear.

“I will do all I can to save them.  For you, Baelsar.  And for them, too.”

She bit back a snarl of rage, hands forming fists. 

I am Eorzea’s biggest fool if I thought it would be so easy.

“Kaida.”

A hand clapped onto her shoulder, jolting her into the present.  Her emerald eyes met Cid’s, unable to hide her surprise.  He paused, lips pursed, looking her over for a few long seconds.  Then he spoke again.

“Maybe you should go outside.  Some fresh air may you do good.”

She nodded and found her way out of the dark and dreary hanger, stepping into the sunlight.  Terncliff was what they called the town they had taken.  The VIIth had been stationed there for some time, it seemed.  Remnants of their tyranny lingered in midnight-hued barricades, a few magitek machina that had been abandoned on the streets seemingly, and some old crates that had also gone forgotten in their haste to flee.  Kaida took in the grim sights of the Empire’s rule before proceeding out into a small whitestone plaza.  A fountain gurgled pleasantly nearby and citizens had begun to take to the streets in curiosity at their sudden liberation.  On a normal day, she would have been happy to greet them—as heroes did.  But on that day, Kaida felt an ilm away from being sick and so she pressed onward without a second glance in their direction.  Deathbringer felt heavy upon her back, her head humming angrily with the start of a headache. 

Kaida walked a few paces and then she saw him standing near the cliff’s edge, at the end of a walkway overseeing the gloomy gray sea below.  Gaius’s silhouette was as unmistakable as the nausea in her gut.  She knew there would come a time where she had to meet his eye and tell him how sorry she was for her incompetence.  Part of her wanted to stall until the moment where fate required them to speak again.  Another part of her wanted to get the pain over with.  Let the misery come, she decided as she slowly made her way to the Black Wolf.

The breeze ran through his ashen brown hair, bringing the familiar scent of saltwater with it.  It reminded her of the Ruby Sea and the dread in her chest reminded her of home.  She hated disappointing others.  She hated even more that she had been unable to save another life yet again.

“Gaius.”

Kaida Asagiri lacked the confidence she normally carried this time, her tone quiet enough to be nearly lost in the rushing hiss of waves below.  Gaius vaguely acknowledged her, turning his head slightly in her direction.  Her head lowered, a deep breath taken in.  She began forward, feeling dismal still and knowing it would only worsen.  Kaida told herself to shoulder it—bear it, like the Warrior of Light she was. 

She stopped when she drew close enough to the Black Wolf that she could see what he was looking at.  Below, floating atop the surface of the water was the Sapphire Weapon.  Its broken hull was being fetched by a crew of Ironworks employees who seemed to be trying to airlift parts of it out of the ocean.  But the task seemed arduous to say the least; Kaida watched as one of the airships strained to keep the Weapon afloat.  She could not put words to the feeling that sat in her chest like a cold, hard stone.  It destroyed her with bitterness and sorrow, keeping her vivid eyes glued to the scene before her.

Gaius said nothing.  The wind howled between them, the ocean roaring gently as it collided into the cliffside.  Kaida did not know if there was anything to say that would make any of this better.  But her hero’s heart demanded that she try.

“I’m sorry.”

Words were just wind, however.  It did nothing to bring anyone back from the dead.

“You need not apologize to—”

“Don’t.”

He fell silent for a moment save for a soft growl in the back of his throat.  His gaze turned to the Sapphire Weapon below. 

“The pilot.  Do you know who it was?,” he asked.

“No,” Kaida said.  “I didn’t even chance to see into its cockpit.”

“Mmm.”

Did he dare to hope it had not been one of his brood?  Kaida was not sure she could be so optimistic.  Regardless of who the pilot had been, they had suffered a fate that none deserved.  The VIIth’s cruelty truly knew no bounds.

She felt it then; the first tendril of a headache pounded into her temple like a sudden drumbeat.  Kaida’s peripherals were fading, a brightness consuming her vision.  She knew this feeling but tugged against it futilely all the same.  The Echo came when it demanded and Kaida could only get swept away.  But she gnashed her teeth and she tried to press through it.  She did not want to succumb, not now of all times. 

“We may only know with the report from the Garlond Ironworks,” Gaius was saying, his voice fading in and out as though she were falling far away.

She opened her mouth to reply but found that she could say nothing, the pain blooming across her head and face.  It was then that the Wolf noticed something was wrong.  In her last moments in the present, Kaida saw him turn to look at her in surprise.  His hand reached for her and the world was swallowed in a burst of light.

The imperial hanger lay empty save for two figures—the daunting Sapphire Weapon and a single pilot, clad in the blood-red uniform of his country.  She remembered him from before—the blue-haired man that had been there when the Ruby Weapon had fallen.  Kaida could not remember what name Gaius had called him by.  She just remembered the hatred in that man’s eyes when she had seen him at Ghimlyt.  The passion there made her realize how brainwashed these wards truly were—this was a suicide mission, there was no way they would survive this.  And for what purpose?  Their blood seemed to run in droves now and all for nothing.

“We should have known Father and his friends would track us down sooner or later.  Now, they’re at our doorstep and the Sapphire Weapon still isn’t ready!  Even so, it should still be able to fend them off, or at least buy us some time…” the azure-haired Raen spoke to the dormant Weapon, voice echoing through the hanger. 

The Echo let her see the past but she could not change it; Kaida could not speak to him to tell him how wrong he was.  How foolish he was.  How she wished he would stand down.  There was no need for this.

But he lifted his head and he smiled.

“Not quite how I’d imagined it but this seems as good a way to die as any.”

Kaida’s heart sank.  There was nothing she could do to change the past.  But she wanted to.  She wanted to reach through the passage of time, grab him by the shoulders, shake him, tell him it was not worth it.  It would never be worth it.  The Empire would care little at another sacrifice.  There was nothing to gain by dying.

“Rex, I…” someone in the quiet said, footsteps echoing in the dark of the hanger.

‘Rex’, Kaida realized.  ‘His name is Rex.’

She looked up to see another of Gaius’s wards approach—the green-haired one this time. 

“Ricon!?  Why are you still here!?” Rex demanded.  “You’re supposed to be moving the other Weapons to a safe location!”

“You can take care of that… while I pilot the Sapphire Weapon.”

"What are you talking about!?  I’m the pilot, not you!  There’s no need to put your life on the line.  Besides, it’s still incomplete.  It can barely perform basic maneuvers, so it’ll be practically useless in a real fight.”

“We have a solution: Oversoul.”

Kaida’s anguish and horror tore through her like claws.  A part of her cried out to tell them no.  But it was useless.  There was nothing to be done but watch the exchange.  Rex walked away and Ricon did not, his eyes facing the Sapphire Weapon—his future tomb.  Another victim to the Empire, Kaida thought to herself sadly.  As the image of him and the Weapon faded, she lamented their plight and their foolishness. 

Her eyes opened and she realized something was clinging onto her.  It took her a moment to realize it was an arm.  She was halfway caught from falling over, her legs having buckled.  The wetness of tears felt cold as the ocean breeze blew across her face, the scent of salt mixing in with the smell of leather.  She looked up to see Gaius there, amber eyes peering curiously down at her.  For a moment, Kaida Asagiri was unmoving—transfixed by the sight and the feel of him against her.  Time stood still and then she righted herself, trying to regain her composure as best as she could.  Gaius backed away quickly, arms at his sides.

“You nearly fell,” was all he said, candid and stoic in that husky voice of his.

“My… my thanks…” Kaida managed out.

“The Echo, I presume.  What did it reveal to you?” Gaius asked.

Though it hurt to tell him, he deserved to know the truth.

“The pilot’s name was Ricon,” Kaida answered.  “I’m sorry, Gaius.”

He cast his gaze back across the ocean.  Together, they listened to the serene ambience of that ill-fated cliffside town.  Gaius’s eyes burned like funeral pyres, reflecting the sunlight with their gilded hues.  Kaida’s heart ached, muting her as she tried to work through her own swirling emotions.  This tragedy felt too horrible to be real.

Gaius’s spoke in a hushed tone, not meeting her gaze.  “Ricon… my poor boy.  You were braver than most could ever hope to be.”

Kaida watched the next few seconds play out as though time itself had slowed.  At the sound of encroaching footsteps, Gaius turned.  Pain flashed across his face and she saw him start to fall.  His bandaged arm went to his hip, grabbing at it.  She rushed forward, trying to steady him but his weight was too much for her to lift.  He fell and Kaida went with him, slamming her right pauldron into the stone walkway.  Gaius let out a groan.  Before she knew it, Cid had rushed to both of them, concernedly looking them over.

“Gaius!” shouted Cid.  “Kaida, what’s happened to him?”

“I… I don’t know.  We were talking and then…” Kaida stammered.

“Damn it, it’s your injuries, isn’t it?” Cid asked Gaius, who, despite looking pained, managed a small nod.

Injuries? From the Ruby Weapon?  They still trouble him?!

Kaida reached out with a hand but hesitated.  She had called herself a healer once.  But then Nanamo had fallen in front of her.  Then Haurchefant.  And her magicks had felt less than useless then.  What good could she do now, years later and so utterly out of practice?

“Is there a medic on your staff?  Someone that made the trip to Werlyt when we came over?” Kaida asked.

Cid nodded.  “Aye.  Back at the hanger.  Help me move him.”

With Kaida struggling to support Gaius on one side and Cid on the other, the three began their way back to the abandoned imperial base.

Chapter Text

He was not sure where he was when he awoke, the feeling of being pulled from unconsciousness a slow and tedious thing.  Voices came to his ears in swathes of hasty murmurs, soft but growing ever louder by the minute.  A part of him was content to dwell in that limbo between slumber and the waking world.  But as light pressed its ethereal hand against his face, Gaius was forced to open his eyes.  He squinted against the artificial light blaring down at him, expression contorted in a hateful grimace.  The figures around him were haloed in radiance, their bodies like dark shadows that blurred together.  A groan fell from his lips, instinctually reaching for where Heirsbane ought to have been. 

But there was no Heirsbane.  Instead, his fingertips hit the cold metal of a bedframe.  His vision snapped a bit more into focus and Gaius Baelsar realized he was in a medical facility of some sort.  Bewildered, the ex-legatus’s gaze went from the ceiling to the first of the medics he could see.  He was halfway expecting some new, wide-eyed Alliance healer tending to him.

Instead, he saw Kaida.

She still wore her pilot’s suit, a metallic gray that clung desperately to her body.  Concentration was written across her face, brow furrowed.  The Raen had a distinct nervousness about her, her palms aglow with magic. There was a twitch in her fingers, a piercing gleam in her green eyes.  She stared at his wound with a slight nibble to her lower lip. 

“He’s stable.  But I would caution against…” Kaida’s eyes met his.  “Oh.”

Her voice dropped to a soft tone, almost lost in the background noise of the hospital.  It was quieter than he expected from her, the confident and calculated warrior he knew her to be.  It was gentle as a sea breeze, matching the undeniable relief in her face.  The magicks from her hands faded, likely dissipating from her break in concentration. 

“How are you feeling?” Cid’s voice distracted the Wolf for a moment and his amber eyes flitted to where the prodigal Garlond stood, arms crossed over his burly chest.

Gaius took a moment to check over himself, moving slightly on the bed to test what hurt and what did not.  His leg and hip had troubled him since the Ruby Weapon’s initial attack on Ghimlyt, when he had to pull Severa from harm’s way.  He was unsurprised to find that those areas still ached terribly, though the pain was muted now compared to before. 

“I will recover,” the Wolf grunted, catching sight of Cid’s heavy sigh.

“That you will.  Lucky for us the Terncliff medical facility wasn’t too far from where you collapsed.  And with the VIIth legion having fled, there were beds aplenty to pick from… though, not much in the way of medics, I’m afraid,” Cid scratched the back of his neck.  “We’ve got a few incoming from the Alliance camp but it looks like the VIIth Legion’s medics all went with them when they retreated.”

Gaius’s eyes flitted to Kaida. “It seems I am in capable enough hands.”

“I am no medic,” came her curt reply.  “Just someone with a bit of field training—that’s all.”

He knew that was a lie but now was not the time to press that subject.  Cid huffed out a second sigh.

“Well, I had best be off.  They’ll want me at the wreckage site,” Cid began.

The Black Wolf recalled the Sapphire Weapon then, his stomach churning.  He supposed there was no use in asking Cid if Ricon had made it; it seemed foolish to hope at this point.  But he could not deny himself.

“I would wager there was no survivor aboard the Sapphire Weapon,” Gaius said.

Cid stopped in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder at the Wolf.

“No.  There was not.”

It was all that Gaius needed to know.  The sound of Cid’s footsteps retreating echoed and Gaius was left in the company of his misery and a woman who had very well tried to kill him years ago.  Kaida was silent, brooding with shadows in her eyes.  He knew she felt guilt for what had happened, even when there was nothing she could have done to prevent it.  Gaius closed his eyes, leaning back into the comfort of the overly-fluffed medical pillow.  A part of him had known it would be this way.  He had tried to warn her against optimism— as much as she was a Warrior of Light, she was no miracle worker.  And his wards seemed so willing to throw themselves to their deaths.  One painful sacrifice at a time.

“You scared us, you know,” Kaida huffed at him, breaking his thoughts. 

“Apologies for the inconvenience,” the Wolf said with the dip of his head.

Her eyes narrowed at him. “That’s not what I—” She stopped herself, mouth creased into a disapproving frown.  “It’s no inconvenience, Gaius.  There’s not much else for me to do.  The Alliance is establishing order here and they do not need me for that.”

He would have begged to differ—a Warrior of Light present as the Alliance got in contact with the locals would likely alleviate worries.  But he did not argue.

“I spoke with one of the medics after we carried you here,” Kaida continued, looking rather irritated.  “They said they gave you a medication to help with the pain.  And that you’ve been refusing to have your wounds rechecked.”

Gaius did not flinch but he did not deny that he felt the heat of her scoldings.  Perhaps he had been too mentally preoccupied lately to care for himself.  His thoughts were on his children—and how could they not be?  Their lives felt far more important than his and yet all he could do was pace and hope for his greatest fears to not be realized. 

“I will not deny that,” the Wolf said calmly.

“Tch,” Kaida drew in a vexed breath.  “And what good does that do?”

He knew the answer already to that.  There was nothing he could say that would appease her so he held his tongue for the moment.

“As I said earlier, I am no medic,” Kaida said.  “But continue with this recklessness and you’ll be limping for the rest of your life… at best might I add.  I don’t even dare to think of worse outcomes.  And that helps no one.  Especially not…”

'Your children’.

But the words did not come out.  It did not matter—they both knew her meaning.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him, tone feigning indifference but failing at it.  He heard a quiver and saw her eyes sneaking to his leg for a split second. 

“Tired,” he admitted.

She nodded, “Any sharp pains?”

“No.”

“Good.”

A pause in their conversation gave Gaius enough time for his feelings to cycle.  The depression of what was happening gave way to numbness.  A cynicism and carelessness was born next.  He adjusted his sitting position, sitting stiffly more upright.  His amber eyes locked with hers, lips pursed in contemplation.  Maybe his mind was at the cusp of insanity but there were thoughts starting to tug at him.  Thoughts that tempted his tongue, sparking a sort of bitter old fire in his chest.  He exhaled loudly.

“Though I’ve been granted no small number of years in this life,” Gaius began.  “My mind has not dulled to the point where I have forgotten the events of the last few years.”

Kaida’s head perked slightly in wordless curiosity.

Gaius continued, “I recall you being a medic.  Though my armor bore a hefty brunt of some less-than-benevolent spells.”

“Are you accusing me of lying?” the Raen demanded.

“I am not accusing,” came his retort in his deep, rugged tone.  “I am stating a fact.”

“Ridiculous…”

“It is not my business—”

“You’re damn well right it’s not.”

“… But a falsehood remains a falsehood, even when one insists otherwise.”

She huffed.  “Such cheek!  If I were a proper medic, I’d have put you under a sleeping spell for an onze of peace.”

His steady gaze into her defiant eyes was a challenge and she leaned into it, her small hands balling into tiny fists. 

“You should thank your stars that I’m not, I suppose,” Kaida said firmly and Gaius’s lip curled ever so slightly in amusement.  She huffed at him, arms crossed.  But slowly, he noticed her deflate, shoulders sagging and expression crestfallen.  She hugged herself, looking down at what he imagined was nothing at all. 

He did not wonder what she was thinking about.  It was written all over her face.

“I failed you.”

There was nothing to apologize for but Gaius knew nothing could sway her from these feelings.  He kept his silence, letting her vent out what she needed to.

“I told you I would not let this happen again.  I suppose I must look like a fool now.”

Her voice was taut, breath trapped in her lungs and tensing her shoulders.

“I thought I could stop them.  But they want to die so badly… I don’t get it.  I cannot get it.  All I know is that it’s horrid.  And it’s wrong.  And I…”

She faltered slightly.

“I do not know if I can save them.  But I know that I can try.  I have to try.  They’re… they’re just kids…”

He realized there were tears in her eyes, glistening under the stale artificial lights overhead.  She could not look his way, one of her hands clasped at her chest.  Perhaps it was madness that drew him towards her.  He was a man too acquainted with grief.  It had long bound itself to his sorry soul, driving nails into his chest that seemed to make the saddest feelings only seem sadder.  Gaius saw her tears and he felt that anguish blossom in his chest again.  A lapse of judgment overcame him, mind spacing out as his body moved based off of feelings he should have swallowed down, ignored.

His hand lifted and he reached for her.

It grazed her shoulder, the only thing between them the soft fabric of her shirt.  She lifted her head in surprise, the motion causing twin tears to fall onto the bed.  It lasted a fracture of a second but Gaius ingrained the sight of her in his mind.  The softness of her expression when she looked at him, the bewilderment at his touch, the way her eyes shone despite the sorrow in them.  He took it in, transfixed and disarmed.

And then the pain came.  He gasped, hand moving from her to his hip.  In the action of reaching for her, Gaius had not realized he had stretched so far.  It irritated his wound, the sharpness of the pain so potent that it stole his breath.

“Gaius!” she exclaimed as his head hit the back of the wall behind him.

Grimacing, he pressed his hand into his hip as if trying to banish the pain.  But a warmth soon washed over the area that ached so terribly.  Deep in his flesh where his body was still mending, he felt the pain quieten.  His eyes opened and he saw her standing at his side, the sunlit glow of magic emitting from her palms.  It felt like serenity—like meadows caressed by a refreshing spring breeze.  Like the gentle stirring of the ocean at midday, the salt carried by the wind.  Like the sky after a storm, stilled and silent with petrichor in the air.

Her hands were spread over him with the poise of an expert.  A twig of teal hair had fallen into her eyes, crossing over her nose.  She looked tired but determined, a fire in her spirit that broke through her sadness.  The Raen’s eyes were fixed upon her work, nary a word coming from her.

She’s beautiful.

Gaius Baelsar had known his feelings about Kaida Asagiri long ago.  Even if he had tried to suppress them, they roared back to the surface unchecked.  He watched her in a mix of dumbfounded awe as she worked on his injuries, the agony stolen away.  Their eyes met for a moment and he realized she was not crying anymore.

What transpired between them lasted an ephemeral moment, interrupted by the sudden advent of one of the Alliance medics.  She was Ala Mhigan, donned in the tan and blue of the Resistance.  She swept inside, hastily moving to Gaius’s side.

“What’s the situation?” the medic asked.

“An old injury is troubling him.  Located in his hip and leg,” Kaida answered quickly.

“My thanks for handling it, Warrior of Light,” the medic replied.  “I can take things from here.”

The Raen hesitated, glancing to Gaius for a moment.  However, after some thought, Kaida gave the medic a nod and made for the door.  She did not look back to the Black Wolf upon her departure but he saw her hesitate once more before passing through the doorway.  His eyes lingered where she had vanished, pensive as the medic began about her work.  He reined himself in, the chaotic tides of his emotions verging on scaring him.  Gaius cautioned himself to not fall too deep into his feelings, knowing that only a maddening sorrow would await him if he did.  Logics, facts, and the next step were what he needed to focus on and so he did, reverting back to that soldier persona he had built up so carefully throughout the long decades.

But still, the Wolf found his thoughts occasionally returning to Kaida and the warmth in her magic.  And he could not suppress the subtlest of smiles despite himself and the heaviness of his grief.

Chapter Text

“What do you make of Gaius Baelsar?”

The words stopped Kaida Asagiri as she left the medical facility, her emotions still all over the place in the wake of the fight against the Sapphire Weapon.  By now, the late evening had settled in.  A blood-red sunset washed over the humble hamlet of Terncliff—an apt color, given the events of the day.

“One of the Wolf’s friends,” the Warrior of Light said to the Duskwight, keeping her voice as even as she could muster.

 Valdeaulin, if I recall correctly.

There was something about his cutting lavender eyes that she disliked.  They always seemed so angry, so full of spite.  The aura he gave off made her want to steer clear of him but he seemed determined to approach her.  His gait was soft-footed, his expression bearing that eternal scowl he seemed to wear. 

“‘Friends’ is a bit of a stretch, I would say,” Valdeaulin said and Kaida sensed a brewing uncertainty rise in her chest.

“What do you mean?”

“Come now.  I know who you are.  You were the one to fell the Black Wolf at the Praetorium.  Surely you’ve a thought or two about his alleged reformation.”

Alleged. 

Her eyes narrowed slightly.  She supposed she did have some thoughts about him.  Thoughts about how he seemed far less daunting without that infernal horned helmet or his legatus gear.  Thoughts about the grief in his voice when he spoke of his children.  But memories of the Black Wolf’s campaign came roaring back to the front of her mind.  The Waking Sands soaked in blood, the lifeless bodies left strewn about like litter.  The sound of the alarums blaring as they tried to rush Tataru, Urianger, and Minfilia from captivity.  Heat from the Praetorium as it burned down in the wake of Ultima, so hot she could barely stand it.  It had felt like fire when she breathed in.

She forced herself out of those memories.  They were from a past long gone now, she told herself, yet she could not deny how unsettled she was by them.

“He told me he put that life behind him after that day.  I will not deny him the right to do that,” Kaida replied carefully.  “After all, he came to us with the knowledge of Black Rose.  Without that—and your efforts to squash the Empire’s plan, might I add – Twelve know if Eorzea would still be standing.”

He was pensive at that statement, giving a small incline of approval.  Yet still there was a shadow in his gaze, dark thoughts aswirl in his mind. 

“An astute observation.  One not controlled by emotions but by logic.  Befitting a Warrior of Light I suppose…” Valdeaulin’s voice trailed off.  “Yet make no mistake.  Gaius claims to have shed his Wolf’s pelt when he took up the hunt for Ascians, but he’s still the same man deep down.  A lifetime beneath imperial banners… Do you not question if he could so easily forget his upbringing?”

She hesitated for a split second, revealing her doubt.  Yet quickly did she shut down such an argument, locking gazes with the Duskwight.

“I doubt he means to betray us.  The man lacks a motive.  Particularly with his children’s lives hanging in the balance,” Kaida retorted firmly.

Yet Valdeaulin makes a point.  I never want to think that someone could betray us but Gaius…

She thought back to Praetorium for a moment and her breath tensed.

… No.  I should have faith in him.  I should. 

“He certainly kept quiet about having a flock of foster children back in the Empire.  That, I will grant you.  Perhaps he intended to keep them out of his vendetta against the shadows he hunts,” came his reply.  “It seems he would rather bare his teeth to his former masters than allow harm to come to them.”

“He is not blind to the Empire’s misdeeds any longer,” Kaida said. 

“Yet in the end, he will always be a Garlean.  Of that, you cannot deny,” Valdeaulin interrupted sternly.  “Though there may be honorable men and woman among them, you cannot deny the part he played in their barbaric campaigns.”

She faltered slightly in the face of his accusing tone.  “I never did.  But what is he worth if he’s dead?  Nothing.  He has pledged to give over whatever information on the Empire that he can.  Such intelligence is invaluable.  I am certain you would agree.”

Besides, would anyone feel good about striking down a grieving father?  Is that what he wants me to say? 

“You are not incorrect,” Valdeaulin said.  “And perhaps, you are right to place such faith in him…”

“Interesting that you do not, given your history with the Wolf as a travel companion.  Or did you sleep with a dagger in your hands every night?” Kaida asked, sensing an opportunity to learn more about his seeming hostile nature.

Silence. Valdeaulin’s hard stare was unflinching.  She could see a battle in his eyes, lips pursed tightly in thought.  At first, Kaida feared she had struck a nerve.  And perhaps she had but there was surely a reason that Valdeaulin had stopped her in the first place.  There was something he wished to say.

And she was correct; a few seconds passed but she heard Valdeaulin draw in a deep breath.  A tired, dreary sigh fell from his lips.  It was the prelude to a grim tale she had not expected to hear on that already so dismal day.

“My first encounter with the Garleans was twenty years ago, shortly after the fall of Ala Mhigo.  When they had finished their conquest in Gyr Abania, they continued their march into the lands that had long been home to we Duskwights.  We sought to repel the invaders but we were woefully unprepared.  Our bows and arrows were no match for their magitek, and even our most powerful magicks did little to slow their advance.”

It was a tale she was familiar with.  A tale that seemed to stretch across their world.  The Garleans came and there was precious little anyone could do to stop them.

“I fought on the front line,” Valdeaulin continued.  “But I was knocked unconscious in the opening exchange.  When I came to, I was alone.  The rest of my unit was slaughtered.  I hurried back to my village to look for my wife and daughter.”

Her chest tightened.

“But there was no one there,” he said, words like unfeeling steel.

Kaida broke from his gaze, looking across at where dusk was falling upon Terncliff.  Such a quiet, humble hamlet.  Yet mired in sadness.  This was all just mired in sadness.

“My search lasted for days, then weeks, then months.  It seemed they had all disappeared without a trace.  I finally learned from two imperials held at Bittermill that the villagers had been captured and used as test subjects for the poison gas that would later be known as Black Rose.  I never saw them again.”

“I’m sorry, Valdeaulin.”

“For twenty long years, I roamed aimlessly with nothing but hatred to keep me alive.  I eventually found myself at the Order of the Twin Adder, who offered me a place among their ranks.  The desire for revenge was the only thing I had left, so without a moment’s hesitation, I accepted.  Were it not for the war with Garlemald, I would have been loath to work alongside the city-dwelling Gridanians who for so long had treated my kind as outcasts.  But none of that mattered anymore.”

What is there left in life when everything you love is gone?  I can’t look at his actions and say I would have chosen any differently… had the Garleans come to my village, I don’t know what I would’ve done.  Fought until I died, most likely.  But that is easy to say when it’s all just hypothetical.  Far harder is it to live through such events…

“It all culminated with Operation Archon.  As you led the charge into the Praetorium, we were right behind you.  And when the place came crumbling down, most of us were caught in the rubble.  I escaped with my life, though many others were less fortunate.”

“So you were there too,” Kaida said quietly.

I almost did not even make it out.  If it had not been for that magitek walker, I would have died there.  Thancred as well.

“Aye.  I was.  Trapped beneath the rubble as the world turned to hell all around me.  Yet I managed to break free and it was then that I encountered none other than Gaius van Baelsar, on the verge of death.  The gods had delivered to me the man whose conquests had robbed me of everything,” Valdeaulin said.  “As the Wolf limped from the rubble, I poised to strike him down.  And then, he told me of the Ascians.  He told me he had to keep living to mankind from their shackles.  And once his task was done, I was free to put an end to his life.”

So that’s the way of it.  Valdeaulin saved him that day.  Yet I can see in his face, it was no easy decision.

“A deal that you accepted.  A deal most would not have,” Kaida said.  “But why, I must ask.  Why, when it seemed as though you only lived to avenge your family?”

“If I were to speak frankly, I still wonder that to this day,” Valdeaulin replied.  “Perhaps his desire to free the world from such a menace was what resonated with me in that desperate moment.  Perhaps in my hate, I found a budding sense of mercy.  Perhaps the smoke inhalation drove me to temporary insanity.  The Twelve only know.  Regardless, I agreed to it.  And since, I have kept a watchful eye on the Wolf.  I will not deny that he has given me ample opportunity to slay him.  And I still might, if he shows even the slightest sign of betraying our agreement.”

But there was doubt in his tone.  She heard it clear as day.

“It may not feel like it some days, but it was the right decision to make,” Kaida said to him.  “I’m sure it means less coming from someone so removed from the situation.  But without your mercy, we would not have uncovered Black Rose.  Who knows how many lives you have saved.”

That dark future G’raha comes from would’ve been made all the more likely.

“A comfort in moments of doubt, I must say,” Valdeaulin said, a soft smile on his face for a brief moment.  “Only time will tell truly if it was the right decision to make.  I appreciate your willing ear, Champion.”

“That you had to go through so much--” Kaida began.

“I will not hear your pity,” Valdeaulin cut her off.  “My kin could not be saved.  But there are those that can be.  That is reason enough to press on.”

His exhale was a shudder, ridden with heavy emotions. 

“Gaius spoke to me of Black Rose not long after I rescued him that day.  He said he put an end to its production the moment he discovered its existence.  A sordid affair, he claimed.  At the time, he did not understand where the orders to his engineers had originated from.  It was only after the Praetorium’s fall that he realized it must have been a machination from the Ascians,” Valdeaulin said softly.

In their bid to Rejoin the world… that endless task we will never allow to happen.  By halting the production, Gaius bought us time—though he knew not what he was doing. 

“Should this task of saving his children bind us here, I would ask that you fulfill what we cannot, Warrior of Light,” Valdeaulin’s gaze upon her was piercing.  “Hunt the shadows.  Put an end to their madness.”

“I will.”

Another promise made so effortlessly but she felt its burden all the same. 

The two parted ways shortly after, Kaida walking the white and blue stone streets of Terncliff as the last bit of light faded into the night.  Liberation ought to have colored the town more cheerful yet the Warrior of Light could not deny the heaviness in the air.  She looked out at the distant night sky, musing over the stars and over that city under the waves on the First.  How many lives had been poisoned due to that arduous task the Ascians had decided to undertake.  It was a ripple effect, their lives shaken by the misdeeds of people from a bygone era.  That they were all left to deal with the repercussions felt like a great injustice but these were the cards they had been dealt.  Every step closer to a better day, Kaida told herself as she toyed with the crystal at her nape.  She needed to only bear the sorrow until then.

Chapter Text

He hated himself more and more every day but that had been the norm ever since everything had fallen to ash and dust around him.  There were days where grief chipped away at the hardened shell of his soldier’s heart, laming him but never breaking him.  The following morning was one such day.  Although he had been given clearance to leave the medical facility, Gaius felt none the better.  His wounds were deeper than the flesh and therein lay the problem.  There was no remedy for the anguish in his chest, as much as he wished to shed its caustic bite.  The morning felt hollow, the sunlight bleak, and Gaius’s hand trailed along the railing overlooking the ocean.

Cid and his men had already removed the Sapphire Weapon from the waters, pulling it into the nearby hanger.  For that, Gaius was glad.  He was not sure he could stomach the thought of what lay inside and some things were better left out of sight, out of mind.  His head lowered as the seabreeze combed through his graying hair, a knot of emotion in his chest that could not be undone.  He remembered the Praetorium as though it were only hours ago but worse still were the screams in his communicator.  Livia’s haunted him, her cries as she died for his folly ever echoing in the back of his mind.  Rhitahtyn, too, plagued his thoughts.  Gaius could not help but wonder where he could have gone if he had not been granted the misfortune of joining the legion.

Ricon, Milisandia…

They were ghosts now too, the wounds of their loss fresh.  His limp was the only thing restraining him from grabbing Heirsbane and trekking off after the VIIth.  Kaida would have had his head for it and Valdeaulin would have likely decided he had opted to betray them after all.  Yet still, his anger burned like a wildfire, his body too weak to enact the vengeance he so desperately craved.  It was a miserable existence.  It was a fitting existence.

They would have lived if it were not for him and he damn well knew it.

“There you are.”

Kaida’s voice was unmistakable… and a tad bit accusing.  He wryly looked over his shoulder at her, awaiting whatever tongue-lashing she was about to give.  Was she going to insist he head back to bed?  Rest did not come to him so easily anymore.  Not unless he toppled over from his wounds, it seemed.  If only getting sleep was just a pinch easier but it was hard to shut his mind off.  There were tactics running through it nonstop, trying to find the best way forward.  The way that did not include more ghosts to plague his mind. 

Gaius caught sight of Kaida’s disapproving frown and knew her next words before she even spoke them.

“You look not a pinch better than yesterday.”

A pause.  And then she conceded.

“But you’re upright.  I suppose that’s a bit better than how I left you yesterday.  I… take it they dismissed you?”

“My aches have been tended to, food aplenty shoved in my direction,” Gaius grunted.  “I will care not to cause such a fuss again.”

He sensed her dissatisfaction.  Her steps were not light; they were firm, solid as the earth. 

“It is for your own good that you should care for yourself.  We need you…” Kaida began.  “… And your children will want their father, when the time comes.”

Gaius was not deaf to the waver in her voice.  And that made the Black Wolf wonder—what could possibly shake a Warrior of Light so?  Staring into the face of inevitability?  Knowing that there were people that even she could not save…?

His cutting yellow eyes measured her carefully as she approached his side.

“Yesterday, I spoke with Valdeaulin,” Kaida said in a matter-of-fact tone, feisty and bold.  Gaius did not need to wonder what they discussed.  He closed his eyes for a moment before returning his gaze across the ocean.  “And some things have occurred to me since that conversation.  I would… speak with you about them.”

Another momentary waver.

“Then speak,” was all Gaius said.

“According to him, you have been combating the Ascians ever since Operation Archon’s success,” Kaida began.  “And… I’ve taken note of the masks at your hip…”

“Each was a battle in their own right,” Gaius grunted.  “Fodder thrown at me from a rather eager-to-flee Lahabrea.”

Kaida’s brows furrowed.  “You… ran into Lahabrea after Praetorium?”

“A story for another time,” Gaius said dismissively.  “What I vowed to Valdeaulin was not a promise made lightly.  After encountering Master Leveilleur and receiving an earful on how my aid to the Alliance was sorely needed did I opt to reveal myself.  It was the last thing the lad told me before he fell into his slumber.  That you and the Scions needed to understand the gravity of the situation.”

Kaida’s eyes widened.  “You planned to dispose of Black Rose yourself?  You were not going to tell anyone?”

“Out of fear that the Alliance would detain me, yes,” Gaius replied.  “But things grew too much for even I to handle alone.  And after my venture into the capital, I realized that more help was sorely needed.  And to prove my fears real, the Ruby Weapon struck Ghimlyt and I could not even hold it back.”

He smirked bitterly, lowering his gaze to the waters.

“Another burden for the Warriors of Light to shoulder.  And I am reduced to but a bystander who can only watch as my children perish in the name of a legacy I would burn away to ash.”

“Would that your wounds were not so severe,” Kaida began.  She drew in a breath.  “I won’t deny it.  The Warriors of Light are spread ever thin lately.  I told you that I would be able to call upon others to help us against the VIIth but even I don’t know if that’s possible.  There’s… simply a lot happening.  Everywhere.”

“I would not ask—”

“No, you wouldn’t ask anything more from us.  I know that already.  But when the next Weapon rears its ugly head and we’ve located where the VIIth has gone, I will call upon any I can find.  I made a promise to you that I would try my best.  I intend to make good on that promise.”

He knew she was speaking from the heart.  But he could ask nothing more from her.  Alea iacta est – the die was cast.  He had helped create these atrocities and now he would watch them burn the rest of everything he ever cared about down to the cold ground.  Gaius dodged her pressing stare, not knowing if he could look into those hopeful green eyes.  They reminded him too much of his younger years, when he had been ever the optimist.  Reality had grounded him long ago.  There were slim chances of saving the remainder of his children and it was time they both accepted that.

“There is an old saying in the Scions.  ‘For those we have lost, for those we can yet save’,” Kaida continued, her voice hardening.  “It is not over until it is over, Gaius Baelsar.”

He trapped those words in his heart, mulling over them as she walked away.  The sound of her footsteps echoed into the quiet that had stretched across Terncliff until they, too, faded into the gentle roar of the ocean below.  Gaius stared out across the blue until his vision had hazed and he felt some semblance of peace from the anguish in his chest.

She was to leave the next day, a summons back to the Rising Stones beckoning her from the salt-kissed shores of Werlyt’s fringes.  Since the VIIth had departed Terncliff, the Alliance had swooped in to help establish order in the town.  A ferry system was put into place to take people from Ghimlyt to Terncliff.  Kaida was to take the next one back across the sea.  Her bags were packed, flung over a shoulder.  There was a tiredness in her eyes when she looked at the mirror, a weight in her chest that made her steps feel sluggish.  In the back of her mind, she felt Fray’s mocking snort—telling her she was a damn fool for her optimism.  And maybe she was.  But Kaida, who had become so tired as of late, wanted to believe in something.  She wanted to believe in hope.

Cid and Nero were at the Ironworks hanger when she swung by to say her farewells.  The G-Warrior lurked dormant as a squad of engineers ran tests on it.  She craned her neck back to take in the mecha’s full structure.  How in the blazes she had been able to pilot that thing was a mystery.  But she supposed it had worked in the end.  The Sapphire Weapon was gone, after all, and the seas surrounding Terncliff were calm.

“A final caveat, Garlond,” Nero was saying as Kaida made her approach.  He was leaning over blueprints, though due to the scribbling on them, Kaida could hardly tell what they were to. “It has to be red.”

Cid’s nose crinkled.  “Pah!  We’ve already placed our orders for the blue-tinted lights and we are hardly in a position to re-negotiate that.”

“Then I recommend you find another engineer who can solve your containment problem,” Nero retorted.  “I am sure van Varro left aplenty to pick from before he took his unceremonious leave.”

“You know damn well he did not,” Cid growled.  “And… ah, Kaida.  Headed out, are we?”

“If I had the option to stay and mediate this dispute, I would.  For whatever that is worth,” Kaida replied.  “But, yes, there have been summons.  I am to depart on the next ferry back…”

“More business on the First, I imagine?” Cid asked and Kaida nodded.

It will never end.  Not until the Ascians are defeated. 

She thought of Valdeaulin and the sad tale he had shared with her.  She thought of the Praetorium again.  And Emet-Selch.  And that city at the bottom of the sea.

Sorrows and more sorrows.  It feels as though our entire world is built off of sadness.  

“Yes,” Kaida said, realizing she had not answered Cid’s question.  “I cannot claim to know when I will return… but I trust if things change…”

“We will certainly be letting you know posthaste,” Nero said flatly, dismissing her with the wave of his hand.  “What remains to be seen, however, is if the G-Warrior will have seen its necessary modifications by then.”

“According to the company’s coffers, no,” Cid replied with a scowl.  “But there is nothing left to do but simply keep trying.”

“A sentiment I can sympathize with.  Very well.  I ought to be off.  Make sure Gaius gets some manner of rest.  And, ah... glad to see you again, Nero,” Kaida said and turned to go.  She had taken a single step when Cid’s voice caught her off guard.

“You have been speaking to him a fair amount as of late.  Gaius van Baelsar.”

The Warrior of Light was disarmed immediately by that comment, spinning around to face Cid with an unsubtle amount of shock on her face.  She quickly wiped it clean, however, brow creasing with concern.  “Yes.  He knows a lot about the Weapons, of course.  Why wouldn’t I be speaking with him?”

“Merely an observation,” Cid said, holding up a hand as if to assuage her defensiveness.  “I was curious as to how he was faring.”

“As well as one would be, given the circumstances,” Kaida answered.

Cid frowned slightly at that, scratching his neck.  “I refrained from giving him a report on our findings regarding the Sapphire Weapon.  It was much of the same as before with the Ruby Weapon.”

Kaida’s stomach twisted into a knot.

“I’ve my grief with Gaius.  Grief aplenty.  But I have little desire to torture him for it,” Cid continued, clearing his throat.  “We will continue working hard here.  Just make sure whatever it is Tataru needs you for isn’t too perilous.”  He offered her a smile.  “You’re too bloody useful to go dying on us.”

“Where have I heard those words before?” Kaida remarked lightly.

She waved and was soon on her way to the ferry dock.  An airship sat at the ready, boarding its final passengers.  The Raen hurried on board, standing on the deck as the ferry departed.  The engines whirred loudly, nearly drowning the sound of the ocean below.  Kaida looked back to that sad town of Terncliff, eyes traveling to a certain overlook.  Perhaps it was the trick of the light but she could have sworn she saw a tall, lone figure watching over the ferry as it slipped further and further away.

Absent-mindedly, she toyed with the crystal at her nape.

Chapter Text

 In the course of Kaida Asagiri’s long journey as a Warrior of Light, she had seen hardships aplenty.  When Nanamo Ul Namo had drank deep of that false poison, Kaida had told herself she would never pick up a healer’s cane again.  The blade had been better suited for her, each thrust and swing made with anger—a catharsis in that cold Coerthan land.  But then Haurchefant had died and it felt like no matter her choice of weapon, no matter how carefully she tread the perilous road ahead, nothing could save them all.  Not Ysayle.  Not Papalymo.  Not Minfilia. 

As the Warrior of Light reborn’s blade struck against hers, it felt so heavy.  Kaida’s metal-clad heels dug into the floor of Syrcus Tower’s peak, her teeth gnashed and brow furrowed in concentration.  She wanted to believe in hope but she could not deny the exhaustion in her arms nor the doubts that shadowed the edges of her mind.  So often had her mind teetered towards a void-like darkness, that pit where only despair and rage dwelled.  But there had always been certainty—in the gods, in the fabric of the universe, in a brighter tomorrow even if it was several sunrises away.

Her grief snapped like rubber drawn too far, too taut. 

She wanted to believe in hope but in that desperate fight, staring down the last of the Ascians, she felt only anger.  Anger that this had happened at all.  Anger at all of the burials.  All of the sadness.  All of the strife. 

‘Remember that we once lived.’

No.  She did not want to.  Not when their lives had caused so much sadness. 

With every swing, she thought of someone who had gone.  She thought of Haurchefant and the way his lips had felt against hers.  She thought of Minfillia braiding her hair back as they talked about everything—life, boys, the future, a much-needed shopping date.  She thought of the way the sunlight had caught the Ysayle’s icy blue eyes and how Papalymo had hummed softly when he read in the Rising Stones.  And Kaida Asagiri fell into that void of hate and anguish, thinking of Gaius and his children and the monsters they had become all in the name of some great Ardor.  It was all such a waste, she thought.  Such a bitter, senseless waste.

But a part of her understood, in a way, that hurt that drove all of this.  She did not want to.  But ever since that day Emet-Selch had shown her that city at the bottom of the sea, it had driven a stake through her conviction.  At the thought of it, her anger faltered. 

And so did her next strike.  Elidibus’s blade knocked hers aside easily, though not quite enough to pry it from her grip.  She stumbled a few steps backwards, eyes snapping wide as his blade came plunging towards her head.  Something seized her by the collar of her armor, hoisting her to the side before the sword could hit true.  The next second was a blur and then Kaida realized she was safe, a mitigating barrier thrown at her from one of the healers in the back.  Her wild, unfocused eyes eventually found themselves staring up at Aurelia.  There was an abundance of concern etched upon her face, giving Kaida a small shake.  A blink later and it dawned on her that she was unceremoniously plopped onto her bum.

“Are you all right?” Aurelia asked and Kaida blinked again before realizing that was a question—one that needed an answer.

“Yes,” Kaida replied, trying to shake the quiver in her tone.  She rose quickly.  “My thanks.”

Aurelia’s nod was curt, her attention quickly turned to where Listelle and Cassandra had their foe’s attention.  Even from where Kaida stood, she could hear Listy’s shouts to Elidibus.  They were shrill against the roar of the Norvrandtian wind and the sound of magic being casted.

“Stop!  No!  Stop this at once!” Listelle yelled to the Ascian with a desperation that Kaida could not quite fathom. 

“What in the devil’s gotten into her?” Aurelia remarked darkly, her concern only deepening.

Kaida had no answer for that.  She shook her head and mustered Deathbringer up into both hands.  She did not want to admit that it had been too much lately.  Amaurot, Werlyt, Bozja… everything. 

But maybe… just maybe for once, she had found her limit.  One that could not be broken.

A wry smile formed on her lips and she drew in a breath, readying herself to plunge back into the fray. 

I told Gaius to not give up.  I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t do the same.

The crystal he gave her pressed against her collarbone, concealed by her armor.  She thought of it and she remembered.  She had made too many promises to fumble and die. 

A world apart from that tedious battle, Gaius Baelsar and Cid Garlond stood in the abandoned Garlean facility with scarcely a word to spare between the two of them.  Cid had asked him there to help get into the VIIth’s database—a task that seemed to stump the duo far more than either would like to say.  Gaius stood nearby with his arms crossed while Cid sat in the computer chair, fingers drumming as a small pop-up window inquired for a passcode to proceed.  It was a passcode neither of them could guess and the systems seemed too complex for Cid to simply break through with what knowledge of imperial tech he had.  Gaius could hear the soft huffs of vexation fall into the air as Cid typed in another guess.  Another angry beep told them both it was wrong.  Cid grunted and pushed back from the computer, letting the chair roll an ilm or two.

Gaius’s pale eyes followed him carefully.  Cid caught his look for a split second then diverted his gaze moodily back to the screen.  Arms folded over his brawny chest.  And finally, he huffed out, “I have half a mind to let Nero swing at this one.”

The Black Wolf blinked.  Had he heard that right? 

“I was unaware Nero was alive,” Gaius said.

“Aye, fled before the explosion at the Praetorium,” Cid grumbled.  “And has been a right pain in my arse ever since.  Surprised you haven’t seen him about the hanger but he’s a slippery sort.  Took us a fair bit to track him down after the last stunt he pulled.”

The ex-legatus’s face did not shift but inwardly, he was glad to hear Nero had lived.  At least someone else had, after that hellstorm had taken the hanger.  He hoped his old tribunus had done something with himself in the years that had passed—something worthwhile.  From Cid’s mien, Gaius could only guess what Nero had been up to.  But, plainly, the Wolf cared little—the XIVth was long turned to ash and Nero was free to do as he pleased as far as Gaius was concerned. 

“Then permit him to swing away.  Though dare I say if the code cannot be broken by you, I doubt there is a man alive on this star that can break through the security measures,” Gaius said.  He took two pacing steps away from Cid but he felt the tension in the air—it was nearly palpable.

“I do not make a habit of defending him often, mark my words,” Cid began.  “But there’s a fair enough chance that he could do this.  His experience is greater than mine when it comes to imperial databases.”

“Very well,” Gaius replied neutrally. 

Cid studied him for a long moment, clearly chewing on a thought.  “I am not my father, Gaius.”

Gaius could have laughed at that.  They damn well looked similar enough but Cid was right in that he was not Midas.  His father would have never turned his back on the Empire—for better or worse. 

“I know that.”

For a moment, Gaius wondered what would have been if Midas had never died that fateful day.  Would Cid have come to love the Empire, bound by the lie they had all been told since birth?  Would he have worked until a bitter end for Solus zos Galvus, crafting weapons that made Black Rose look like child’s play?  What a dark future that would have been.  Yet still as Gaius felt a relief that had not come to pass, he mourned Midas still.  His entire life had been a sacrifice on an ever-growing pyre of bodies.  All for the glory of Garlemald, their broken, poisoned nation.

After Midas had died, Gaius had lost himself in a way.  He had tried to be there for Cid but children had never been his forte.  Not even when Solus had dumped Livia upon him had he felt suitable to be a father.  But damn it all, he had tried.  And now what was left of that life was being burnt away slowly by his own misdeeds.  First Livia and Rhitahtyn.  Then his Werlytian wards.  He wondered briefly about the others, as he had for so long.  A sister he had long lost contact with—a brother that had left the Empire long ago.  His own lovers, the ones that he had brought into his bed to feel some semblance of warmth again after Midas.  Valentina, Marilla, Cassius—

“You may be surprised to hear that he would have commended your actions,” Gaius said to Cid, forcing those sad thoughts away from his mind.  He had played them over and over again since that day the XIVth fell.  “Your father, I mean.”

“He would have called me a bleeding heart and laughed in my face,” Cid replied.

“He loved the Empire,” Gaius corrected him.  “But he loved you more.”

As the words came out, he winced. 

Cid’s eyes narrowed to slits.  “He had a poor way of showing it.”

“You know that was not him.  The man who died that day was only Midas nan Garlond in body,” Gaius said curtly. 

Cid had scarcely anything to say to that.  He rose, pushing the chair angrily away as he did.  Gaius thought to cut him off, to give him that outlet to be mad.  But he hesitated, watching Cid make for the door.

“Courting a damn Ascian to get the Emperor to favor you again.  What were you thinking?” Cid’s voice was quiet.  “Did you ever really see that going well?  Or were you just hoping, Gaius?  You’re damn lucky you’re alive.”

The Wolf was not blind to the hurt in Cid’s voice.  It spoke volumes and Gaius’s head lowered slightly in defeat.

“Desperation makes fools of anyone,” Gaius said.  “That is all I can say to defend my actions.  You see what they have wrought.  That is why you did not give me the report on the Sapphire Weapon.”

Cid grimaced, looking away as he lingered by the doorway.  “You didn’t need to see that.  You already know what the report would have said.”

None of this was news but it still robbed the Wolf of the ability to speak.  He brooded in that room for a bit longer, even after Cid had left.  The silence, the ringing of the lights overhead, it was all deafening.  And Gaius let himself listen to it, drawing out a steady sigh.

After the last of Elidibus’s spirit faded into a shower of white light, the heavens of Norvrandt opened.  The image of falling stars had faded, replaced by a gentle rain.  Kaida stood numbly as it fell, splashing down either sides of her face.  It was over, wasn’t it?  It was all over.  The orchestrators of such pain and sorrow had been defeated.  She stared upwards, letting each drop fall upon her freely.

‘The rains have ceased and we have been graced with another beautiful day.  But you are not here to see it.’

Those words echoed through her mind, chest tightening. 

‘Remember that we once lived…’

Her jaw clenched so hard that it ached.  She understood those words a little more and more every day.  The hurt that permeating this world, the losses they had seen on the road that they walked.  What would she not give to bring back some of the dead?  She remembered those dark days after the Vault.  She remembered once more for a moment the feeling of Haurchefant in her arms. 

Would she destroy worlds for him to come back?  There was a time she would have said “yes” without question.

A commotion behind her ought to have made her turn around but she basked in those melancholy feelings for a minute longer.  It was over—she dug in her heart and tried to find joy in it.  The bringers of chaos were finished.  There was naught left of their plan but enfeebled vestiges, primed for the headsman’s axe.  All of the pain they had experienced… all of the tragedy… it was… it was over…

“Do not lose yourself in optimism, Kaida Asagiri.  No matter the sliver of hope, you must always be ready for the fires of conflict,” Fray warned.

And, as if on cue.

“G’raha!” a voice shouted from behind— Listelle, her tone high-pitched in horror.  Kaida could hear her sobbing and dread clutched the Warrior of Light’s heart.

“It is not over until it is over.  You know this.  You have seen it time and time again.”

Chapter Text

“There is a missive from Werlyt.  It says there has been movement from the VIIth Legion.”

When Tataru made the announcement, Kaida knew without doubt what that meant.  The next Weapon would be nigh upon them and there was hardly any time to delay.  A ferry to Terncliff would need to be booked, one to bring as many of them as possible.  With things calming down in Norvrandt and all of the missing returned to their corporeal forms, there had been enough of a lull where Kaida had gotten comfortable enough to sleep in and even have a mug or two of ale before sunset.  It was incredibly lazy of her to do—noticeably so (G’raha and Tataru had commented on it) but beneath her eyes hung lingering shadows that spoke well enough for themselves.  Kaida Asagiri did not often feel burnt out but lately, she quietly admitted to herself that perhaps she was starting to lean that way.  Her mind was hazed in a layer of molasses and felt unable to concentrate on any one subject for more than a handful of seconds.  It was hell, the Raen thought, but it was the result of the too many things that had happened lately.

Kaida drank deep of the mug she had secured from F’lhaminn, setting her mug down with a clunk and a sigh.  She stood up, knowing that eyes were on her as she did.

“Off to pack,” the Raen announced half-heartedly to her peers.  “I suggest you do the same.”

Kaida blinked and the next thing she knew, she was in the doorway of her quarters.  She willed herself to step inside but her body disobeyed.  A sudden numbness had taken to her arms and legs, pinning her to the spot.  There was a rise in anxiety from chest to throat, bubbling and frothing like a geyser.  She realized a bit too late that it was vomit and another blink later saw her bent over, the ale from just a few minutes ago emerging in a fashion that looked not entirely unlike how it had gone down.

“I am tempted to forbid you from going anywhere,” Aurelia’s voice came from behind and Kaida winced as she rubbed away some of the lingering droplets from her lips.

“Must have not settled well—the ale, I mean,” Kaida tried to evade but she felt the disapproval radiate from behind.  She turned and saw the others standing there—the disapproval slowly melting into awkwardness.

Listelle stared at her with concerned abundant in her mismatched eyes.  Ruhania tapped her chin in thought and scrutiny.  Aurelia had a distinct frown about her lips. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Kaida finally said after a moment, feeling so hollow that her words seemed to echo out, as if they belonged to another.  “I will clean it.”

She set about her work with a mop and a bucket a few minutes later, full of thought and yet so empty feeling.  She tried to dissect why she was feeling this way because she knew it was most certainly not the ale.  And after some debate, the Raen came to the conclusion she had likely known all along but did not want to admit—the thought of going back to Werlyt mortified her.  That sad town on the cliffside, the feeling of melancholy in the air, knowing what could very well happen if they were too slow once more…

The Raen thought she was going to be sick again, grabbing at the base of her neck.  But that was when her fingers skimmed over something cool to the touch—something she had forgotten she had been wearing.  Kaida clasped the crystal Gaius had given her and she prayed silently that her fears would be assuaged.  She would be enough this time.

“Are you praying to a mop bucket?”

Her eyes opened and she looked over her shoulder to see a familiar face.

“Ah- E-Eirian!” Kaida rose to her feet quickly and turned, nearly knocking the bucket over with her tail.  “You’re back from Bozja, I see!”

The viera blinked at her, olive eyes moving from the mess on the ground to the Raen.  Their pensive expression made Kaida’s face warm all the more.  She made sure the crystal was tucked under her shirt.

“A momentary respite,” Eirian replied.  “You seem…” There was a drawn-out pause.  “… up to something.”

“No!” Kaida said fervently, shaking her head.  “I… I just… I had to mop up something but I’m finished now.  I’ll be getting to packing.  There’s a missive for us to go back to Werlyt.  I don’t know if you’ve—”

“I read the report,” Eirian cut her off in a flat tone.  “I have my things still packed.  It seems you could use an extra sword.”

“It would be appreciated,” Kaida managed out with an uneasy smile.

“Mm,” was all the viera said before they took their leave, boots thudding down the hall.

Kaida watched them go with a sigh.  Her stomach still felt unnerved but she managed to calm herself enough to put away the cleaning supplies and get her gear together.  Though her heart was full of dread, she told herself there was nothing to do but try her best.  She felt the weight of it all more and more every day but she gritted her teeth.  She bore it. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt Fray stir.

Only a matter of days had to pass before Gaius understood the depths of the scars the Empire had left behind in Terncliff.  He did not expect for them to heal quickly—the damage had been too great over too long a time.  Even with the oppression of the VIIth lifted, the coastal town reeked with a sense of ongoing dread.  It seeped deep into the soil, permeating the earth with its cold and shivering feeling. 

The Black Wolf had mended well enough from his injuries over the course of the weeks that had followed the demise of the Sapphire Weapon—enough to spend long nights with Cid at the Ironworks hanger as he worked on the G-Warrior.  Alliance reports flooded in daily and though the messengers never quite trusted Gaius enough to hand them directly to him, the Wolf was not banned from looking them over.  No one gave a fuss when he took them in hand to see what was happening across the star.  There were many tales of battles—clashes between various Garlean legions and the Alliance.  Gaius read them all carefully, remarking to himself about how without an arse in a throne, it had all gone to hell quite quickly.  It was unsurprising yet he felt a melancholy each time more intel from the north came in. 

He tried not to think of loved ones and family back home.  Though their number had dwindled, he still thought of them.  He still fought for them.  The Ascians still dwelled in the shadows as the puppetmasters they were, still ripe for the hunting.  No one was safe until they were all put down.

That night, he walked back from the hanger, a fresh set of reports in his mind.  The Warriors of Light would arrive the following morning.  There had been progress in locating the Emerald Weapon and all that was left was to put it down before it could be activated.  The VIIth had retreated to Castrum Collinum but they would return to the fray before long, after their wounds had been licked.

He saw the shadow well before it struck, listening to how it tried so desperately to stay quiet.  It was an amateur attempt at his life but Gaius did not discredit the man’s efforts.  He had a knife in hand, catching the light of a distant lamppost.  The Wolf turned when the man chose to make his move.  His hand found his would-be killer’s wrist, gripping it like iron.  His leg was not as strong as it had been once but it collided into his assailant’s ankle.  The knife spilled onto the stone walkway.

“Augh!” his attacker yelled into the quiet of the night.  There was no one to answer it—or perhaps everyone in their homes was simply too afraid to look outside.

Gaius held the man’s arm for a moment, the sorry fool half on the ground.  The man was a local of Terncliff, bearing a few facial scars—likely from a blade.  His burly figure was clad in civilian clothes.  He was not young but he was still foolish and reeked of alcohol.  Gaius released him when he realized the man was drunk, feeling a pang of pity.

“You…” the man began, the single word so sloppy that it oozed with saliva.  “You’re Gaius van Baelsar…”

Gaius said nothing in reply, keeping a keen eye on him as he struggled to rise to his feet.  He wobbled, teetered, looked as if he were going to eat more pavement… then straightened himself.

“I fuckin’ hate you.”

The Wolf blinked.

“You took everythin’ from us.”

A hiccup.  His words were more strung together than separated.  Gaius watched him rub away spittle with the back of his hand.  He slouched, stumbled again, putting a hand against the stone wall of a house nearby.  The man began to mumble, his words incoherent save for three.

“… deserve to die…”

There was naught Gaius could say to counter that.  There was no argument to be had.  Fate had willed him to live and that was the only reason he had been spared that day at the Praetorium.  But he could not have said he deserved it.  Not especially now, when his past pursuits of grandeur had robbed two of his children of their very lives.

The man began to retch—he had drunk far too much for the evening and Gaius watched as he threw up his stomach’s contents onto the pavement.  It was a sad sight—a pitiable one.  But Gaius did not look away.  He did not walk away.  Instead, he stayed there and he thought about how once, he had killed for a better world.  A world for men like the one before him.  The one that hated him and cursed him so.

In hindsight, it was all so foolish but that was what hindsight was—clear as day and cruel.

This man was right to hate him.  To spit at him.  To curse his name.

In his quest for that better world, he had failed so many.  And the contempt was well-earned.

But Gaius knew no good would come of loitering in that dark alleyway.  He did not want to think about what this scene would look like to any prying eyes.  He thought about trying to escort the man home but that seemed unlikely to happen.  There was not a damn chance the man would tell him where he lived.  Gaius thought about alerting the guards but he feared momentarily that they would turn him away out of spite.  His mind was scrambling for a solution when the solution presented itself.

“Gaius!”

Cid’s voice rang out from behind and the Wolf spared him a look. 

“… He needs someone to walk him home,” Gaius said to Cid once he had been given a moment to take in the situation.  “If you would be so kind.”

“Aye…” Cid said carefully, side-eyeing the Wolf.  He went to help the man and Gaius quickly slipped away into the night. 

There was much on his mind but he could not have said it was anything new nor anything kind.  Gaius let those thoughts rule over him as he made it back to the inn room he had been given.  In the quiet, he found no solace and the Wolf was fine enough with that.  The turmoil drove him, spurred him onward.  As he lay in bed that night, he told himself there was no sense in dying in a dark alleyway for sins he could never atone for.  Not until the rest of his children were safe.

They arrived in Terncliff the following afternoon, in time for lunch.  Kaida had not felt hungry since yesterday but she masked it for the sake of the others.  A few crackers were nibbled on as that fated coastal town came into view.  She was relieved to see the shores nearby had been purged of any trace of the Sapphire Weapon.  Out of sight did not keep it out of mind in this case but it helped alleviate her roaring anxieties. 

“So this is Terncliff,” Eirian remarked from where they stood nearby, arms folded.  “It’s pretty.”

“Yeah,” Kaida said, voice airy and distant.  She fiddled with her snack, thumb tracing over the ridges of the cracker she had been slowly getting through.  When she caught the viera’s pressing stare, she cleared her throat and offered a small smile.

“Sorry.  It’s just been…”

“Hard.  I know.  I read the report.”

Eirian did not pull any punches and Kaida winced, looking from her colleague to that distant town.  The airship drifted ever closer but it never felt fast enough.  She felt like she was trapped in limbo, in purgatory.  The sight of Terncliff just reminded her of her failings and her heart yearned for the next battle, the next chance at redemption. 

“You never did take failing well,” Eirian continued.  “Not with the Sultana.  Not with Ser Haurchefant.”

“Stop,” Kaida said abruptly and the viera honored that, falling quiet for a few long seconds.

“You might not have saved whoever was in the Sapphire Weapon’s cockpit but I see a town full of people that have you to thank for their liberation.  You should think about that,” Eirian said, pushing off from the railing and walking back towards where some of the other Warriors of Light had gathered. 

Kaida supposed they were right but it did little to make her feel better.  She stared out across the waters for a bit longer, fastening one of her teal twintails and checking her supply of potions.  The crystal Gaius had given her hung heavy that day and she touched the lump where it was under her shirt.  She felt too weak to make any promises this time.  Not to Gaius, not after all of the times she had fallen short.

An announcement overhead declared they would be docking soon and Kaida grabbed her bag, throwing it over her shoulder.  She inhaled the salt-kissed air then breathed it out. 

No amount of time passing made any of this easier.  As she rejoined the rest of her colleagues, she felt not unlike that novice conjurer that had been signed aboard the Scions all those years ago.  Some things changed but a part of her was always scared, no matter the situation, no matter the battlefield.