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Chapter Text

The constant turmoil of battle, the screams of her fellow mages and apprentices that were echoing through the wide halls of the Circle Tower, the clashing of metal against bodies - all of it - suddenly was completely hushed.

Extinguished.

What was left was nothingness.

One moment ago she had been facing a demon attacking her, its distorted bodily form which was only vaguely reminiscent of what once might have been a Templar, creeping towards her, ready to charge.

One moment ago she had raised her staff protectively in front of a young apprentice, trying to gather all the strength she was able to, trying to prepare herself for a hopefully killing blow to save themselves in this absolute calamity in the Tower overrun by demons.

One moment ago she had seen a Templar rushing towards her with a shield and weapon raised out of the corner of her eye.

“Layanna!”

And then nothing.

As if her body had been plucked from reality and had been thrown into this black void, spiraling through the soundless emptiness.

Hear.

Her feet suddenly were hitting the bottom of wherever she was. The sound of the sole of her shoes was reverberating in the darkness as circles rippled over the watery coating on the ground Looking up she only perceived the noiseless nothingness with sparks of light swirling around in it like moving stars in the endless night sky.

Was she in the Fade?

Hear. Feel.

One of the sparks broke free of the others and lightened up into a yellow sun in front of her. Its warm glow welcoming her like a soft embrace, drawing her nearer and nearer to it.

Nothing of it resembled any experience she had had in the Fade.

The inviting glow, the softness of the voice in the emptiness seemed to reach out for her as if to offer a hand saving her from the fall.

Her steps lead her further and further towards the small sun.

Suddenly a flash of purest black, widening into an abyssal swirl. Out of it stepped a human-like figure. Robed and masked in attire that was so very alien to her. Their hand extending towards her. Threatening or beckoning?

Hear. Feel. Think.

In contrast to the sudden darkness, the former soft and welcoming light seemed too bright, nearly blinding.

A menacing feeling crept over her and every fiber of her being screamed to fight for her life. But what she needed to fight she did not know.

As her survival instinct took over and as she invoked the most powerful spell she was able to, an eerie red light flashed in front of her face before everything was drowned in an all-encompassing bright flash of light when she lost her senses.

She remembered waking up in the middle of a forest with distant shouts and screams around her.

She remembered that she lost track of any time or space while she was lying there, her head swirling with images of a gruesome battle and a bestial dragon that seemed to encompass all.

She remembered being found by people in yellow uniforms, some human, some uniquely-tall elves.

She remembered being captured and questioned like a prisoner of war for hours on end while she became more and more desperate when nothing she said would lead to any recognition on their part.

They didn’t know anything about Kinloch Hold or the Circle of Magi. Didn’t even know Ferelden or any other country she mentioned.

They accused her of being a traitor, of feigning her desperation and tears, and threw her into a cell not knowing what to do with this young woman that stuttered the same incomprehensible words again and again while her fingers were buried in her strange robe.

Her salvation arrived a couple of days later in the form of a tall elven woman with a kind smile and a warm though firm voice. She said that Layanna must be one of the victims of the war who surely must have suffered from amnesia and that she, who had experienced it herself years ago, felt sorry with this girl.

Layanna would never forget her caring embrace while her tears of despair soaked the older woman’s clothes. The first motherly embrace she was able to experience after having been pried out of her own mother’s arms twelve years ago when the Templars had brought the six-year-old Layanna Amell to the Circle.

She took her home and in the following months and years became a second mother to Layanna. Alongside her own daughter Clemille, Elanne taught her everything she needed to know in this place she called the Twelveswood and which now became Layanna’s new home.

Over the years the memories of her former home became more and more distant, only her old staff and that silver coin with the goddess’s image on it would remind her daily that it hadn’t been a dream or some kind of delusion. Though how and why she ended up in these lands would be an unsolved mystery for many years to come…

Chapter Text

The evening had been a slow, dragging affair. The Scions had been invited to a small evening party from House Haillenarte but since everybody had been otherwise engaged (meaning that everyone had had suddenly something very important to do) it had fallen to Alphinaud and Layanna to accept the invitation. Layanna stifled a yawn over her coffee they had just been proffered after retreating from the dinner table when the door opened and another late guest was ushered in. Instantly her poker face lit up as her eyes fell unto Ser Aymeric who in turn answered with a smile before he was greeted by the hostess. The next sip of her coffee was accompanied by a happy heartbeat as the arrival of her friend promised some agreeable and diverting conversation.

But it didn’t take long that after he had joined her at her place near the fire that she could make out certain looks from Lady Ophelia across the room. Thus it wasn’t surprising that only a few minutes later the same Lady casually, with a fake smile upon her curled lips and her fingers ever so elegant and daintily holding her cup, walked over towards them.

“How wonderful to see you, Lord Commander,” she chirped towards him. “I had not expected the visit of such an honorable guest on such a humble occasion. Surely, you have far more important things to do than to bother with a gathering of such inconsequential company.” Her eyes darted to Layanna for a brief second, throwing the knife of her disapprobation towards the other woman.

“Well met, my Lady. But how could I not follow the invitation of a good friend especially when I know that I will be able to spend an evening in the delightful company of even more friends,” he answered with a stern though friendly voice and a trained smile upon his lips. Layanna felt his fingers slightly squeezing her elbow as to underline of which friends he was speaking. His unsuspected touch making her fingers cramp around the handle of her cup as warmth spread through her body. “Unfortunately, my duties hadn’t allowed me an earlier arrival.”

“It is unfortunate indeed! Especially since my daughter is indisposed tonight. I am sure she would’ve been delighted to greet you too.”

“I hope she will feel better soon.”

“Oh yes, yes, Orielle is never indisposed longer than just a few hours. Such a dutiful healthy girl.”

“I am sure you are very proud of her, my Lady.”

“Oh yes, quite proud, Ser Aymeric. She is the shining star of my life and of all the people around her as you well know. And not so exotic as some of the other society we have to endure.”
The Lady’s eyes wandered over Layanna’s dress, judging it harshly.

Out of reflex, Layanna smoothed the non-existent crinkles in the soft expensive fabric of the dress she had bought in Ul’dah just a few moons ago when something inside of her woke up, telling her what to do, steering her.

“Oh, this exotic dress is from Ul’dah, my Lady. Have you heard of it? I am sure that with the Scions’ extensive connections it would be no effort at all to supply you with one.”

The lips of Lady Ophelie were pressed together in a tight line.

“I’m quite content with the Ishgardian fashion, Mistress Amell, thank you. I am sure you find its highest quality perfectly acceptable and appropriate for the highest society.”

She knew by now that Lady Ophelie had been the master of or participant in nearly all the rumors that had been spread about them through the city. Layanna wasn’t the center of attention when they were going about their business in the city or mingled with society but exactly that had given her the opportunity to watch, to listen, and to feel. In cooperation with Tataru there was little left that passed their attention. And at this moment the combination of jealousy and loath out of fear seeped from Lady Ophelie.

Slowly she turned her head fully towards Lady Ophelie Dzemael with a honey-sweet smile upon her lips and venomous snakes in her eyes. The Lady had basically been at their throats since the moment they had entered Ishgard, always slanting them in public and trying to keep them as secluded from society as was possible.

Distant memories pushed into Layanna’s mind, memories of being shunned from society for being a mage, and the sickly gut feeling that society had forced upon her of being wrong, twisted, and feared therefore. Many years ago she would’ve put up with it, maybe even months ago. But tonight her past experiences, her family, her friends, and Ser Aymeric at her side gave her the backbone she needed and kindled something inside her that she hadn’t been aware of up until now. Her words were knife-edged though her voice stayed composed when she addressed Lady Ophelie.

“Of course I think it is perfectly acceptable to be content with burying your knights and throwing alms at your starving poor in your fine pelts that have been out of season for years now in the rest of the world. But mayhaps it is time to think about the possibilities of new inspirations, of exciting trade opportunities, or even just walks in lush forests or sandy beaches for respite instead of staring at bleak snowy mountains year in and year out, my Lady. Don’t you think?”

Lady Ophelie’s constrained smile distorted into something ugly before her face settled into a trained unreadable mask. But before she even could retort anything Aymeric’s fingers closed tightly around Layanna’s elbow.

“Please excuse us for a moment, my Lady. I think a stroll in the cool air would do my friend and me good after becoming a bit overheated near the fire.”

Aymeric ushered Layanna towards the balcony in a gesture that didn’t allow any objection while the older woman just stared after them with a frozen mask of utter shock.

Layanna’s heart sank and she bit her lips. Clearly, she had overstepped any possible boundary existing in Ishgardian society - or any society of Eorzea really. She expected a reproach or at least some chiding of any kind but when they arrived outside she saw Aymeric’s form slightly shaking with tiny huffs coming over his lips.

“If we were somewhere different I definitely would applaud you,” he said and now she could see the amused sparkle in his eyes as he was repressing a burst of laughter. Layanna’s lips curled into a lopsided smirk.

“It certainly was quite satisfying to see her countenance derail I must admit.”

For a few moments, they joined in each other’s silent laughter until suddenly the first piano sounds of a lively dance were carried out to the balcony, coaxing another ripple laughter from them.

“It seems as if the poor Countess had to resort to drastic measures to cover up my societal missteps,” Layanna noted. Part of her actually felt bad and a little embarrassed about her behavior but the part of her that was brimming with spiteful amusement and a newfound sense of freedom was far bigger and drowned any of those unwanted bad feelings.

Aymeric turned towards her and offered his hand with a slight bow, the satirical sparkle still in the corner of his eyes.

“Would you do me the honor, Layanna, of dancing over those missteps with me?”

“Gladly,” she answered as she laid her hand into his.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he added with a mischievous wink. “I have an invitation for the day after tomorrow to House Dzemael. I hope you will accompany me.”

Chapter Text

With a heavy sigh, she let herself slump back onto the chaise longue, her eyes fixed on her work that was propped up on a pedestal near her.

“I don’t know. Something is still missing,” she clicked her tongue. Languidly her fingers painted patterns into the air, smoothing lines, dragging corners, widening spaces while her eyes were narrowed in concentration.

“It looks so... ordinary.” Once more the movement of her fingers coaxed the form of the figurine into another shape. Tiny, pointed horns formed on the figurine’s head and were drawn out and curled with a half-hearted spiraling twist of her finger.

“It’s so mundane. Boring.” Demotivated, her hand sank back down again, accompanied by another heavy sigh.

“I’m off my game today, I guess.” Her attention shifted from her own work towards her companion who was casually lounging on the chaise opposite hers, currently occupied with plucking grapes from their stem and relishing them.

“You’re whiney today, that is what you are”, he retorted with a small though teasing grin curling his lush lips before another grape passed them.

His banter elicited another sigh and an elaborate eye-rolling on her part. “And you are not very supportive today, my dear.”

“Supportive of this ordinary boring thing?” Before he could continue she grabbed one of the small pastries from the coffee table between them and threw it at him. He didn’t even bother to catch it, it just bounced off of his chest and fell to the ground, leaving a trail of friable crumbs behind on his robe. “I’m just honest, which is why you like me. Remember?” he chuckled.

“You could at least make an effort to put me into a better mood and take my mind away from this insufferable inadequacy.” She tilted her head in silent reproach.

“Tsk, I won’t do anything until you haven’t cleaned this mess you’ve made,” he noted with a challenging arching of his eyebrow and a leisurely gesture towards the crumbs in his lap for which she was to blame.

Her lips curled into a slight smirk. “Mhm, I see”, she said while slowly standing up and walking over towards him.

Soon the crumbs had vanished as did the robes and forgotten was the unsatisfying part of the evening…