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Estinien Wyrmblood was the Azure Dragoon, chosen by the Eye to protect Ishgard from Nidhogg’s rage. His goals in life were avenging his home by slaying Nidhogg, and to make sure that no child would ever have to grab a lance again in order to avenge their family.
Right now, however, he wasn’t quite sure which person he hated more.
Alphinaud Leveilleur had the same condescending aura as nobles from Ishgard, although the kid had the intelligence to shine instead of simple blue blood. Nemi Sakuya, the scholar of the Warriors of Light, was a bright-eyed fool who had no idea about this war. Lorven S’ylver, the ninja who had gotten himself mauled by Gaelicats, was a blundering fool. Ysayle Iceheart was the leader of the furyforsaken heretics! And, of course, Lahen Al’nebar, the second Azure Dragoon, who was a completely different calibre of annoying.
He was leaning more towards the latter two. One because she was an insufferable heretic, and the other because she was an insufferable brat.
He had agreed to this, but keeping himself from deliberately trying to vocally make the heretic and the dragoon snap was getting harder with every passing day. Lady Iceheart had turned out to be not quite that ice-hearted, and the younger Azure Dragoon was simply too hot-headed to ignore a good challenge. Whether it was a squatting contest, an arrow shooting contest, or a chocobo race with someone from Tailfeather, the girl constantly lagged behind because of all the challenges she took. Estinien had been tempted to join in on several occasions, with the simple purpose of making her mad.
Naturally, this kind of searing dislike for one part of the group didn’t go undetected, but thankfully neither the Au Ra scholar nor the Miqo’te ninja ever addressed why the heretic, the Ishgardian dragoon and the Coerthan adventurer generally shared blazing looks of distrust. Maybe if the young Elezen, the male Miqo’te Seeker and the Raen left those three alone for too long, there would be bodies. Naturally it didn’t occur to Estinien that a heretic with the power to summon a primal and one of the Warriors of Light teaming up against him would most likely leave him as frozen body skewered on this rather elaborately forged lance... well, okay, it did. But he knew better now than to cause battles he couldn’t win.
For now.
Getting dragged into a Gnath settlement, even if they were “Nonmind”, was something that brought him almost close to snapping and causing a group-wide brawl.
There were stories about a dragoon who had left Ishgard. Naturally, myths and legends and the people involved with them were changed drastically to fit the whole “hero” and “heroic tale” type better. Estinien learned that people often over exaggerated tales about the Warriors of Light single-handedly taking down primals. The build-up to these fights was a nerve-wrecking process, and often more dangerous than they sounded like. While he was stuck with a fretting teenager awaiting the return of the Warriors of Light and Ysayle, Estinien realised that maybe he’d been a little too rough on the Warriors of Light.
Alphinaud had been with them ever since they took down Titan and had found their first base raided and most of their allies slaughtered, so he most likely knew of their strengths and weaknesses, yet the boy was worrying his head off and nervously glancing about the camp. Shortly after they had taken down Garuda Estinien had given way to rage and grief, and therefore way to let himself be consumed by Nidhogg.
At first he had assumed that it was only the dragon’s hatred for all of Ishgard, but the longer he pondered on it, the more certain he became that it hadn’t just been his own rage and grief when he had accused Alberic and attempted to murder Al’nebar.
Dragoons who all left Ishgard, never to return. Maybe they all ended up so consumed by these emotions, and he started to wonder if maybe Al’nebar, as an adventurer with a never-ending desire for seeing the world, was merely perfectly suited for this job, while he wasn’t.
Ridiculous, he concluded after a while. Kain had, according to legend, returned as well, a better man than before, and a saviour of not only a village but also a noble. Maybe he should have asked Haurchefant about this story, since it was most likely a Fortemps that had been saved by this dragoon.
The waiting was grinding his nerves into fine dust.
“Master Alphinaud here had been worrying like a maid about all your well-being.”
“W-Was that really necessary!?”
Just for a moment they all got along. The moment was over when they decided they had to go to Vidofnir.
Sohm Al, the place that led to hallowed ground, or so dragons said. Its entrance lay in the cave that dragons went to die, and even underneath the dragoons’ shared desire to slay those beasts, they had to pause.
Lahen had never paid it much mind when wounded dragons had fled the battle. But right now, her heart felt heavy and her throat was dry. Estinien blindly marched on, trying to ignore the dead and dying dragons, although he too felt his heart sink more and more, the more young hatchlings he say lying in this cave.
“Do you feel it… let their grief and hatred be yours…”
The first (and only) break they took in this place was awkward and quiet. Ysayle’s piercing pale eyes were almost constantly focused on the dragoons until at last she went to sleep. The ninja and the scholar soon followed after her, leaving only the arcanist and both dragoons awake at the small campfire.
“…” Alphinaud was merely poking around in the fire with a stick. He looked like he wanted to say something, but decided it would be best to hold his mouth – another reason why Estinien was starting to rather like the kid, as opposed to nobles in Ishgard.
Eventually he felt a prod on the shoulder.
“You hear it too, don’t you?”
“Nidhogg? But of course.”
The slightly younger Azure Dragoon looked completely spooked and watched as Alphinaud finally got up and went away from the fire a little to go to sleep.
“I think I’m starting to understand,” he began again when the teenager had settled. “You were led by Hydaelyn, and she simply spoke louder than Nidhogg when you first came into contact with your inner dragon. But now, here, in this place completely in the claws of dragons, you hear him instead of her, don’t you.”
She nodded. “I have no idea how you manage to deal with that every day.” A sigh. “By the way, sorry for the whole… scarf thing. I know it was you who shoved me off that cliff in the Western Highlands in response to that, not some heretic, but… well; I kind of overstepped a border there. And with the whole stealing parts of your armour while you were asleep and burying them in the snow or putting them onto wild chocobos. I guess you were right to stuff a couple of these gross oversized insect things into my bag.”
“…”
The Miqo’te stretched and looked through the fire. “Maybe, since we’re both Azure Dragoons, we should less attempt to kill each other, but finally work together in order to end this war. Like we said we would.”
Perhaps this insufferable brat had a point.
Several weeks later they had returned to Ishgard. It was clear that the only way to stop Nidhogg would be to put an end to this miserable existence of his, but truth be told, Estinien was less than thrilled about it. He had seen Heustienne and Lahen off with wishes of good luck, stunning everyone in the room at the time – he had also been the first to leave the room when the Warrior of Light returned, beaten and bruised, with the words “Heustienne is dead”.
Waiting for these Manacutters to be finished was pure agony at some point.
Whatever they did inside the Aery, it would be too late to help Heustienne, or any of the dragoons that went off to attempt to finish her job in revenge. At least Lahen had the opportunity to leave for Ul’dah to finish some kind of business there, most likely related to why the remaining Scions had appealed to Ishgard for asylum in the first place. But Estinien was stuck in the city, with its insufferable nobles of every horrible kind imaginable. Every day was slowly gnawing away at his nerves more and more, while he still maintained the cool and relaxed, level-headed exterior people in Ishgard knew. If he snapped now, he’d cause panic among the city, like his first disappearance had done.
“You look stressed.”
Fortemps. Not the pure-blooded ones, but instead the one who sat at Camp Dragonhead. Haurchefant of the Silver Fuller.
“…”
“I suppose anyone with such a… battle looming in the distance would be, but truly, do you not have any way to just… hm. Let loose?”
“You are suggesting I start drinking.”
“No, that was most definitely not my intent, Ser Estinien. What I was more suggesting was a day out of the city. Maybe not too far away, but still far enough away to catch some fresh air. Get your head clear.”
That sounded an awful lot like a trip to the Sea of Clouds. Estinien shuddered and politely excused himself. He wouldn’t go there by himself until hell itself froze over and unleashed the Calamity all over again.
Much to his surprise, Haurchefant was bold enough to grab his arm and force him to stop.
“I was quite serious when I suggested that, Ser Estinien. You need some time away from the city ere you go mad, and so do I.”
“Oh,” Estinien sneered. “How romantic of you. I am quite flattered to be asked out like that.”
Just seeing the noble (even if he was a bastard and therefore only half a noble) lose his face for a second and blubbering around in confusion was enough to ease the dragoon’s nerves a little. He had no idea that flustering nobles with such simple sarcasm would be that satisfying. Finally, when he let out a snort, the light-haired Elezen managed to recompose himself and cleared his throat.
“Oh, I see. I will make sure to bring candles and some cute animals, then.”
“A good recovery, had you not turned deep crimson and stuttered around for quite a bit before coming up with it. You need not worry, I much appreciate you attempting to make me relax, but I am afraid naught will do.”
Haurchefant blinked, and Estinien recalled that there was something he’d been meaning to ask the man.
“Actually, there is one thing. Nay, two things. Maybe some time away from the city is required for you to answer these, in fact.”
Oh, he got mauled by Gaelicats for this bold move, but getting an answer about the tale of Kain and something regarding the Warriors of Light sure made up for the searing pain on his chin. Well, almost. It was still humiliating to have Al’nebar laugh at him and the scholar cast healing spells on him and Haurchefant.
In between the wait for the Manacutters to be finished, one of the Warriors of Light had their nameday. The scholar, Nemi Sakuya, in fact.
Of course, as honoured guests of House Fortemps, there was a “party”, more similar to a small festival than anything else.
Well-off nobles were just that flashy, and tried their best to show off, even for something as small and ridiculous as a nameday of a guest of theirs. He had not thought Count Fortemps to be that kind of person, but maybe there were certain customs to be upheld here. Only the Twelve knew what the four houses did, because it was a mystery to someone from a medium-sized village that had been razed to the ground.
With obvious disgust in his eyes Estinien watched as the party went on.
At some point Haurchefant simply ended up making a fool of himself, falling over and taking down the honoured guest with him. Which kind of idiot fell over a Lalafell and took down an Au Ra with him? Awkward laughter as he rolled off NemI, the poor scholar looked positively flustered for an hour or so. Shortly after that the other Miqo’te, Lorven S’ylver, ended up with one drink too many and had to be calmed down after starting to cry and telling his fellow Scions and Haurchefant how much he loved them. There was even a “You’re alright, for a stuck up snobbish asshole” directed at Estinien.
He had to admit, he was rather amused at that. They weren’t as bad as he had thought.
He changed that opinion four days later when the small party Haurchefant decided to throw for the Warrior of Light turned ugly fast. He just hoped that no one remembered that kiss because they had all attempted to drink Al’nebar under the table and had gotten her into the state that had led her to kiss him in the first place. At least everyone but him was horribly hungover the next day. Oh yes, it was worth seeing the Warriors of Light and Haurchefant of the Silver Fuller completely unable to do anything other than groan.
At some point he woke up with a sock full of snow on his face. A small card was attached to it.
“Close your door better next time!”
The next day an official decree signed by Lord Commander Ser Aymeric and Azure Dragoon Estinien Wyrmblood was attached to the dragoon quarters. Lahen Al’nebar was not to be admitted to the barracks after the sun had set, under any circumstances. Even if the city was on fire and dragons were ripping the Archbishop into fine shreds.
Estinien still woke to the woman simply standing there and grinning at him like the devil in disguise one day. Waking every dragoon in the barracks by screaming in surprise was something that Estinien had never thought he’d do, but now he had done it. Gods, how embarrassing, and it was all that pink-haired voidsent’s fault.
Time seemed to pass faster after the Aery. His armour was now permanently dyed a deep red, which he admitted made him kind of proud at times. Nidhogg’s whispering was as fierce as ever, but after a certain point he completely forgot about it.
It all snowballed into an avalanche downwards. After they had returned, Lahen had admitted that Heustienne was still alive, and while she was out honing her skills and tracking heretics for a sign of Graoully, they had come across the woman. They had followed her, only to find her engaging Graoully merely a few days after that initial encounter. And with the dragon slain, Heustienne yet refused to come back home. She wandered off, and her trail was lost in the snowstorm – he, Alberic, Lahen and Heustienne’s father had attempted to follow her a day later, but found nothing, no one.
The second Azure Dragoon was crestfallen, and the news of Ser Aymeric getting imprisoned only made her fear flare up more. Estinien hated admitting it, but when he followed Ser Haurchefant and Lucia into the lower parts of the Vault, he was worried that this would be the last time he’d see his fellow Azure Dragoon. She seemed unstable as she led her friends into the Holy See’s most sacred building, a faint smile on her lips as she nodded to the group that would bust Aymeric out of his cell.
The blood that ended up spilled was not hers, or any other Warrior of Light’s, however. Under his helm he had just shut his eyes when the shield burst – only to open them again and see the ninja dash after the dragoon. The spear her parents had given her before they had set out to find Ysayle Iceheart had been snapped in half by her sheer, unfiltered rage, and a strange power seemed to make her glow. Was she about to be taken over by Nidhogg?
His initial dread was interrupted by the scholar sobbing grossly and the dragoon screaming so loudly that any nearby windows for sure would have shattered. The sheer anguish in this voice put a fury-filled wyvern screech to shame.
Watching how the life just left the man he’d spent a rather memorable day in the Sea of Clouds with was agonising, but the way everyone around him reacted only made it worse. The scholar’s sobbing, the other dragoon’s unlimited rage as she screamed until her voice broke into hoarse gurgling as if she was going to throw up. The ninja simply staring at everything with wide, blank eyes full of shock and disbelief.
For the first time in ages, Estinien found himself cursing more than he should have. The Knight Commander hunched over and grimacing in pain every few steps while his normally painfully clean and polished armour was full of dents and nicks only put the final nail in the coffin.
A broken table and a few scattered and snapped lances seemed to at least calm his nerves enough to sleep for three hours. After that he got back up and wandered the city restlessly, until he ran into the other Azure Dragoon.
They shared a long look before he shook his head and she let out a long sigh. Just a few months ago he would have never thought that they’d come to this level of mutual understanding, but it was also just a painful reminder of the hole that Haurchefant would leave – who else would be there to soothe the Warriors of Light when anxiety overtook them? No one else seemed fit for the task.
No… not a single person was worthy of taking care of this task. There was only one person, but that person had been impaled.
He left the primal-slaying to them. Well, two of them. The scholar had been absolutely unable to leave the room she had been given in Fortemps Manor, and therefore only the two Miqo’te left to deal with finding and entrance to Azys Lla, and therefore dealing with Bismarck.
On top of her crippling grief, the poor Au Ra had come down with a cold. If there had been any way to tell her that she could always count on her allies, he would have attempted it. Right now all everyone inside Fortemps Manor did was sigh in relief when she finally opened the door and allowed a conjurer to come help her.
The Enterprise took off towards the Sea of Clouds, in search of the Soleil.
Estinien Wyrmblood however travelled to the Churning Mists. He was not quite certain why he was going there, but even perched on top of the Manacutter he had already brought into the Aery, he was waiting. Eventually, what he sought appeared – Ysayle Iceheart.
He landed next to her after greeting her, and she just watched him with cold… contempt? Curiosity? Her expression was unreadable as he filled her in on what happened.
She looked away. “… A pity. He was a good man, and that poor girl loved him with everything she had. And I suppose he did love her back, otherwise he wouldn’t have… well, you know.”
The silence was awkward as they watched a thunderstorm brewing up, until at last Estinien cleared his throat.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“You can think? Do tell.”
“Ha ha. Very funny,” he actually had to laugh there for a second, before he cleared his throat a second time. “Anyway. The more time passed, the more I started to realise my initial treatment of your… person… was more than incorrect and quite frankly, particularly malicious at points. I hated you; you hated me back. But now that I’ve had time to reflect on that, I quite came around to realise that you were indeed one of the most precious allies I have ever had the luck of calling my ally. So, here I am, only to tell you… well, thank you. For withstanding all the abuse from my person and still emerging as someone I would trust my life with.”
Ysayle remained silent for a long time, until finally the strong winds seemed to bother her enough to grab her hair. She let out a small sigh. “I could say the same about you, dragoon – Estinien. We were both attempting to beat each other into submission verbally, and neither of us really let up until we reached the Churning Mists. I was wrong when I told you to not slay Nidhogg; I can admit that much now. Therefore I thank you, not only for being an ally, but to leave your post and duty to tell me this. I… I really appreciate it.”
She smiled; a somewhat strange sight to behold. There was a certain kind of knowing sadness etched into that smile that Estinien would never forget – she knew something he didn’t. How much he did not know he could have never guessed when he boarded the Manacutter after spending the day with her, watching the thunderstorm that shook the Churning Mists. Blue bolts, strong winds, and the strange warm air that sizzled with energy. At some point she had let out another laugh.
“Next time I manage to come within Ishgard’s walls, you have to show me around.”
“… Well. Alright, if that is what you want.”
“I would love to see the city for real, instead of it just being part of the enemy. Maybe we can sow the first seeds of pace among dragonkin and Ishgard once more, like Hraesvelgr and Shiva once did. Not with love, mind you, but with… mutual partnership, or a sort.” She didn’t give him even a second to ponder on this, as she had pulled him off the Manacutter and then through the valley they had stood in, laughing loudly as the thunder started getting louder and louder.
If only the rest of Ishgard would remember her like this, positively radiant as she laughed at the sky above with her strange, pale eyes full of knowledge that none other shared.
Ysayle Iceheart wore that very knowing smile when Shiva’s form around her vanished, and she soon followed in a brilliant burst of aetheric energy.
All sound seemed to stop in that moment - he barely heard Alphinaud Leveilleur scream as the teenager reached over the reel of the Enterprise. He had no idea what Lahen Al’nebar said to Nemi Sakuya as the Au Ra stepped forwards with disbelief and terror on her face.
The younger Azure Dragoon’s face remained unmoving, as if someone had turned her into stone.
There was a strange sting in his chest as he watched the last glittering go out while the dragon she had appeared on turned around to slowly fly back whence he came. The older Azure Dragoon’s face, concealed by his blood red armour, was strangely contorted as he realised one thing:
For the first time since Nidhogg’s attack on his home, was crying out of grief, not out of rage.
If only he had known that this was exactly the kind of weakness the dragon had been looking for. That, doubled with the relief that the war was now truly coming to an end, with the Archbishop’s ambitions stamped out before they could claim more victims than Haurchefant de Fortemps, Ysayle Iceheart, and one Ascian who was not truly a loss to begin with, was the perfect opening. The seeds of peace that Ysayle had said she wanted to sow were budding; but not among Ishgard and the dragons as she had hoped, but within him. There was a strange calmness filling him as he grabbed the second Eye, as he opened his mouth to say that he was glad that, despite the odds, all of the Warriors of Light were still alive and in one piece.
Two Eyes. Two Azure Dragoons.
And within that split second as he doubled over under the sheer weight of Nidhogg’s hatred slamming back into his mind, he realised.
Al’nebar had not been there to torment him. She had been there to help him with the weight of the crimes Ishgard had committed in those thousand years – but he had, not even once, let her carry the burden, therefore rendering her existence almost void, at least in the sense of duty. She, who had walked hand in hand with peace until now, had never once learned the true horror of war. Her parents had died to Ixal; not to dragons. She had lived a coddled life up to the point where she decided she wanted to see the world, up to the point the Echo awoke within her as it did within so many people.
Would she have been able to withstand both Eyes? Perhaps not. Then again, maybe no Azure Dragoon except for the very first did. Maybe this was their weakness, their ultimate exploit.
But this way, the last thing he saw was all hope shatter on her face. The young woman who only knew what it was like to be surrounded by friends, with none of them dying left and right, or turning into dragons. Even the last bit of hope, of emotion, simply vanished off her face as she watched the scene unfold with lifeless eyes. Her friends were shaking her, telling her to do something, but the Azure Dragoon simply stood there like a statue, watching as Estinien Wyrmblood’s form contorted and slowly changed into that of Nidhogg.
This could have been avoided.
“But it is what you, what she deserves. You all deserve nothing but this, for you took Ratatoskr.”
Maybe Nidhogg was correct for once. Estinien simply decided to close his eyes and let the dragon do his thing. Resistance was futile at this point anyway – at least for him.
He was quite sure that the Warriors of Light would not bend to the rules of dragons and eyes that easily. But they were… not exactly mortal to begin with.
Perhaps they were closer to what the Archbishop and the Heaven’s Ward had become. And with that, he went to sleep.