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Ishgard had never felt so cold, and yet Akira was numb to it.
She clutched a heavy weight against her chest possessively, protectively, though it was far too late for her protection to do any good. Some insane part of her brain thought she must look quite ridiculous, a tiny Au Ra woman carrying the body of an exceptionally tall elezen man, but she had refused all attempts from her friends to help. She staggered in a daze out of the Vault, her friends trudging after her.
As they exited the grand building, a contingent of knights rushed forward, some ushering Aymeric away to see a chirurgeon for his few injuries, some reaching for Akira. Startled, she staggered back, baring her teeth blindly as the darkness that flowed through her wrapped around her arms at the perceived threat like thick shadows, clinging to the body of her fallen friend more tightly.
A light touch on her back brought her back to reality. The quiet scrape of clawed gauntlets against her armor identified Estinien. The touch said ‘Calm, these are not enemies’. Blinking, she realized these were the men they’d had on standby outside. For an irrational moment, she wanted to rage at them for not being in the Vault to help, but that had been the point, hadn’t it? They were to stand by unless they were called for. Deflating, she handed over Haurchefant, even though she didn’t want to, even though it made everything feel more final. She didn’t move until they were out of sight, then turned and slowly started making her way to Fortemps manor, her friends falling into silent step behind her.
She had taken up the greatsword and the mantle of the Dark Knight to protect her friends, to stand before them instead of hiding behind as she cast her spells. She grit her teeth. It had all been for naught. A single moment of lapsed judgment and once again a friend fell and the enemy hadn’t even paid for it. Her amethyst eyes dropped to her bloody hands, none of it hers, and curled her fingers into fists. No, they hadn’t paid for it yet.
The manor stood in the darkness just as they left it, a magnificent stone building of incredible craftsmanship. Completely oblivious to its own loss. Akira stopped, her feet feeling as if they’d frozen to the cobbles beneath them. How am I to face them? The Fortemps family had shown her nothing but kindness, sheltering her when all others turned her out, and how did she repay them? She felt sick.
Renauld — a pale midlander with brown hair highlighted with white — turned back as the others walked around her, just realizing she’d stopped. He adjusted his white mage’s staff on his back uncomfortably.
“Are you-“
“Go on ahead.” She didn’t lift her eyes from the ground. “I… I would like a moment to myself.” She bit her tongue against the deluge of fury she wanted to hurl at him. Why didn’t you heal him? Why didn’t you save him? But that wasn’t fair. She had been there. She had seen Ren use the magic that had brought her and their other friends back from the brink dozens of times shimmer in the air, and, for the first time, fail. He tried. It wasn’t his fault.
She was angry anyway.
“Alright,” he turned slowly away, and the rest of the group followed him around the front of the manor as she veered to the side, to a quiet piece of wall where no one could see her. She leaned, forehead first, against the stone, the icy chill leeching into her skin, reflecting the frost settling around her heart.
This is my fault. The thought intruded again, poison as it twisted around her soul. I shouldn’t have run ahead. I shouldn’t have brought him at all. Even though she was alone, she ground her teeth against the tears wanting to fall. Akira had no right. If it hadn’t been for her, this would never have happened. She took a deep breath and drew herself up, following the rest to the front and finding them outside the manor, waiting for her. She saw Ren open his mouth again to speak, but she quickly brushed past him and entered the manor. Maybe if she did this fast, she could bear it.
“You’re back!” the lord of the manor, Edmont, approached, his eyes warm with a welcome Akira did not deserve. “Were you successful?”
“We were. Aymeric is having his injuries seen to,” Alphinaud explained, but before he could continue, Lord Edmont grinned.
“Excellent, I assume my son escorted him?”
The hall went silent, the only sound the tap of Tataru’s footsteps as she came to greet them. Silent like a graveyard. Akira tried to open her mouth to explain, but nothing came out but the traitorous tears she’d been struggling to temper since she rounded the corner outside. She couldn’t make out the quiet response from Alphinaud.
“Oh no,” Tataru gasped, hands flying to cover her mouth as she looked up at Akira with wide eyes, likely also remembering their exchange just that morning.
“You know,” the lalafell started with a smirk. “You could just talk to him.” Akira blinked down at their secretary, pulling her gaze away from a certain elezen that had just left the room.
“Who, Haurchefant? I talk to him plenty,” she pointed out, donning her armor.
“No, I mean tell him about the torch you carry for him!” Tataru giggled. Akira’s face turned as red as her hair.
“I… I… this isn’t a good time!” she stammered, unable to bring herself to deny the accusation, but internally dying at the idea of voicing these feelings she’d been harboring. Her friend gave her a kind smile, even if her eyes still sparkled with mischief.
“You’re the Warrior of Light. There will never be a good time,” she pointed out. “What if something were to happen on your journeys? Would you regret keeping this to yourself? The time missed?” Akira paused, hand resting on her greatsword, still resting against the wall. The pink-haired woman had a point, but her stomach did flips as she thought about confessing right now, with so much else happening.
“Maybe you’re right,” she mumbled, and Tataru grinned triumphantly. “But not right now. We need to get Aymeric back as soon as possible.”
“Then when you get back,” unable to reach her hand, Tataru rested her hand against Akira’s knee. “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
Akira turned to the nearest corridor and fled the room, unable to stay another minute as the mood went from warm and welcoming to deepest despair. The tears she’d fought so hard since they left the entrance of the Vault blurred her vision, but it didn’t matter where she went. She just needed to get away from the foyer. She didn’t know how long she fled through the mansion, gasping for breath she couldn’t breathe, before a small pink blot appeared in her blurred view. She wiped her eyes to see Tataru. It was clear the small woman was just as devastated as everyone else, but her chin was set and eyes determined. She crossed to Akira and took her hand, leading her through a few doorways into a bathing room.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” the lalafellin woman started removing plates of armor. Akira tried to help, but her hands shook too badly. Before long, she was down to her simple cloth tunic and hose.
“Alright, you can do the rest. I’ll go get some towels and some clean clothes and be back in no time to help with your hair,” Tataru jumped down from the stool she’d been using and started out of the room.
“And boots,” Akira added. The secretary tilted her head in question. “I can’t stay here tonight. I don’t…” I don’t deserve to. Tataru frowned in concern.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay heading out again tonight?”
“I’ll go to the Forgotten Knight. I have some friends that stay there. They’ll keep an eye out for me.” After another moment of hesitation, Tataru headed to fetch her fresh clothes. Akira finished undressing and slipped into the hot water of the bath. Pink leached into the water, but the soapy bubbles of whatever Tataru had added to the water quickly hid it. She slowly scrubbed at her skin, knowing she couldn’t walk around with blood all over her arms but wracked with guilt over washing away what had happened.
Tataru returned with a warm-looking, long-sleeved, black dress, knitted leggings, and tall, black leather boots. Akira slipped a little further into the water to preserve at least some of her dignity. The smaller woman set the clothes aside, along with some towels, and moved over to the head of the bath. Akira stared at nothing as Tataru went to work on her hair, dutifully working the soap in. Part of her wanted to protest — she could wash herself, after all — but she couldn’t bring herself to.
Akira quietly finished her bath, and Tataru turned away as she pulled herself out of the cooling water, drying off and dressing quickly.
“Do you want me to walk with you to the Forgotten Knight?” Tataru asked, turning back once Akira tapped her shoulder. The auri woman shook her head.
“No, I need some time alone. I’ll be okay.”
“Well,” the secretary crossed her arms. “If you’re not back by noon tomorrow, I’m sending Alphinaud to get you.” Akira gave a half smile that quickly faded, then headed for the nearest servant’s exit, not wanting to encounter anyone else.
Akira dragged herself through the city towards the Brume. Even with her warm clothes, the cold pierced straight through to her bones. The streets were empty and muted, as if in a city deserted. In stark contrast, lights flickered behind windows as the people huddled inside, fighting off the chill, the sounds of life inside muted by the stone walls and howling winds.
The auri woman found the Forgotten Knight, the tavern’s door looming out of the darkness as she wandered on autopilot. She quickly ducked inside, the warmth of the building welcome. She quickly spotted another Au Ra, a man with black scales, white hair, and bright green eyes, accompanied by a tiny elezen girl with blonde hair. Akira swung by the bar, grabbing a drink, before making a beeline for their table, plopping down and planting a fake smile on her face.
“Hey Akira!” Rielle gave her a bright smile. “We weren’t expecting you tonight.” Sid gave a quiet grunt as he sipped his own drink. Akira shrugged.
“We just got done with a mission, so just needed to unwind before bed,” Akira shrugged, taking a deep drink from her tankard. It burned going down, and both of her companions exchanged worried glances. She rarely drank with them, and when she did, she would slowly nurse the same drink all night.
“How did it go?” Sid asked, watching her closely. Akira took another drink to give herself time to answer.
“It went great!” she lied, grinning at them. “Just like always.” She took another swig, but noticed that both her friends were now frowning at her. “Is there something on my face?”
“You’re…” Rielle trailed off, motioning to her own cheek. Akira reached up and touched her face. Her fingers came away damp, and it was only then she realized the tears she thought she was done with had reared their head once again, betraying her carefully crafted facade of victory. She stared at the offending moisture on her fingers.
“I… I…” she stammered, her other hand gripping more tightly on her tankard. The small girl reached across and touched Akira’s hand. She looked up and saw the empathy on Rielle’s face, and something about it broke her. Akira buried her face in her hands, no longer able to stave off the agony.
After a few hours of sobbing into more drinks than Akira really should have had, Rielle and Sid helped — or, more like dragged — her to a room, stopping by the bar to check in with the innkeeper. Akira knew she would regret how much she’d drank come morning, but for now, she just hoped it would help her sleep.
“M’ve got it fr’m here,” she mumbled, pushing away from her friends, leaning against the door. “S’you in the mornin.”
“Alright. If anyone comes asking…?”
“If’s Alphy, y’can tell ‘im where. Anyone else—“
“Got it,” the man turned and started back towards the common area. Rielle looked between him and Akira, as if torn.
“If you need anything, just shout, okay? We’ll come running,” the young girl gave Akira’s hand one last squeeze before scuttling after Sid. Akira stumbled into the room and clumsily closed the door behind her. She stumbled to the fireplace, where the flame was little more than a few embers, and prodded with the fire poker before adding another piece of wood. Once she had revived the fire, she staggered towards the bed, only to collapse just as she got to the very edge. She dragged herself up to her knees and rested her arms on the edge of the mattress in preparation to pull herself up.
“My condolences.” The deep voice made her jump, but she turned her head to find the tiny figure of Midgardsormr perched on the footboard of the bed frame. She stared at him for several long moments before gritting her teeth, hands clenching into fists.
“This… This is your fault!” she snarled at him, curled as if ready to spring at him even though she knew if she tried, she’d just end up crumpled on the ground. “If you hadn’t taken my blessing, then I could have-“
“There was nothing thou could have done, Warrior of Light,” he cut her off, and she thought he saw pity in his eyes, and maybe… understanding? She didn’t care. Hydaelyn forgive her but she did not care.
“If I’d had my blessing, I could have taken that shot instead!” she snapped, picking up an empty bottle left on the floor by a previous tenant and throwing it as hard as she could at the winged lizard. He dodged deftly, settling on the end of the bed. “I could have protected him, but no, you wanted to test me, you… he…” her tirade trailed off into pained sobs. She knew, somewhere beyond the alcohol muddled fog, that her anger was irrational. There was nothing the blessing of light could have done. Her head drooped to the side on the mattress, and the dragon crept over and rested his head on hers, a sound alike to purring, too loud for his diminutive form, rumbling through her as if trying to comfort her. She wasn’t sure how long it was, but eventually she gave in to sleep, still propped next to the bed, the tiny dragon watching over her.