Chapter Text
The day they formally met had been a snowy one. At least, by post-Calamity Central Coerthan standards, it had just been a little snowfall.
The way they had managed to plough a way through the Stone Vigil to reach the remains of the Enterprise had impressed everyone at Camp Dragonhead, and she could swear she heard the man mutter a “I never doubted they’d manage this after already managing to keep you safe” to his friend.
Even though most of these Scions of the Seventh Dawn were not used to snow and cold temperatures, they came back to the brilliantly white settlement more often than they would admit they had. Just being treated with Coerthan food and getting to watch the busy daily works at the camp was enough to calm them down after particularly long fights against primals, remainders of the Garlean army they had scattered, or anything else like that. And with them having moved to Mor Dhona, Camp Dragonhead was quite literally just half a day away, not counting the possibility to teleport there.
The day they arrived at Camp Dragonhead exhausted beyond belief had also been a snowy one – and even by post-Calamity Coerthan standards, this was not a good sign. Half dead from betrayal and heartbreak they had gathered around the fire they had been offered, every single one a new sight of pity to behold. They sat there and did not speak even a single word.
Healing takes time, and could not come in bursts. It was a basic thing every single fighter learned. Conjurers, Astrologians, Scholars and even White Mages were simply doing their duty patching up injuries, but the old days of them bringing people back from the brink of death were long gone.
“Long gone” was not a rule that seemed to apply to Warriors of Light, even if the light’s blessing had been shrouded in darkness around them. All it took was a hyperfocused prayer of some sort, and a Warrior of Light could bend the laws of Eorzea to their will – not even Ascians were able to withstand them if they were capable of controlling sufficient amounts of energy around them. An ancient relic, drenched in such large quantities of aether, that even a step against fate like that would not empty its resources, was all that was needed, and unknowingly one of the people on top of the Vault had exactly this kind of thing with them – though, granted, they had no idea it could be used in such blasphemous ways by a person not even related to their order.
Every healing spell comes with a price that the healer has to pay. Normally, not exceeding their natural ability, they were left with headaches and dizziness. Exceeding their limits usually left them nauseous and unable to cast any more spells for a day or two, but then allowed them to cast again. Drawing energy from an ancient dragon’s eye however…
It was a flash of panic, nothing more. She was a healer, and so her first reaction after seeing this was “heal, you fool”. It was her fault all of this had happened.
Nemi Sakuya’s blind side was normally not important whenever they were fighting. She was a healer, she stayed behind her friends and allies and hurled spells out and kept them safe. But now, in that blind dash towards the Archbishop along with her fellow Warriors of Light and Haurchefant, the blind side came back with a vengeance. She didn’t (couldn’t) see the attack hurled at her, but the man, who moved slower than the agile dragoon, ninja, and scholar, did.
The shattered shield and the blood everywhere was enough to drive Nemi almost towards her breaking point, but before Haurchefant had the chance to even do something as foolish as attempt to say his final words (if she failed, they would be “Nemi, look out!”, which was even worse than anything he could have said right now).
She closed her eyes and just started muttering a familiar spell, which left her lips almost constantly in battle. A gentle whisper, but instead of drawing from the aether around her, she managed to reach further than that, and towards the Eye.
A hyperfocused spell, fuelled by a desperate plea of “Don’t let him die because of me” and the Eye of Nidhogg.
For a moment every person thought they heard the wheels of fate grind to a screeching stop.
The Au Ra merely fell to the side, pale but still breathing.
The Elezen on the floor next to her, covered in his own blood, was also still breathing.
“How are they?”
“Still unconscious. It’s… it’s amazing though. It looks like he was never injured in the first place, but…”
“But?”
“Look, I only played around with conjury when I left home because I knew my mother was a conjurer back when she was still alive. I tossed both staff and bow away by now as you know, Lorven, so I can’t be sure but… there’s something odd about him.”
“… Odd how? I mean, I felt a rush of energy and all that but… This is not another Gilgamesh and Enkidu situation, is it?”
The female Miqo’te shook her head and furrowed her eyebrows. “I… don’t think it’s like that. He’s not a primal now, nor does he feel any different than before. He’s Haurchefant, alive and all, but… I dunno. It’s like Nemi exchanged a great deal of her own energy as well as some of his to make sure he wouldn’t die. I mean, like. Ugh, it’s hard to explain to someone who never dabbled with healing. There’s always an equivalent sort of exchange. Energy for energy, life for death. That kind of junk. In order to save a life not yet wasted Nemi subconsciously reached into the largest energy source, but due to us still being separated from our blessing, she was unable to call forth as much energy as she needed for that. So she threw in as much energy as she could without it killing her, and it still wasn’t enough. Since Haurchefant was still alive, she grabbed the nearest source of energy she could, and considering he was running before he got hit…”
“Wait. Energy exchange and all that aside, what exactly are you implying here?”
“She managed to save his life, as we both know. In the same moment however she traded most of her energy away… and his ability to walk. I think. Like I said, I’m too mediocre a conjurer to confirm this, and I know almost nothing about scholars, but…”
Nemi Sakuya was the first to wake. Her head throbbed, and it was the middle of the night. She couldn’t remember what had happened to her to cause this state, but when she tried to cast a spell on herself to get rid of the pain, all she got was a weak magical flicker, and nothing else. The Au Ra blinked into the dark room – the only candle in here had gone out, and soft snoring from the other bed meant that someone was asleep there. She couldn’t see who it was – her eyes just wouldn’t get used to the dim light, as if they were expecting a bright orange light to be in its place…
Bright orange. The Vault.
Nemi blinked rapidly. Her mouth was wide open, but not even a sound would escape her throat – which was good, considering she would have screamed in sheer terror of suddenly remembering this particular… event.
She raised her arms to grab fistfuls of her long hair, only to find that most of it had been chopped off. All things considered, she most likely had fallen unconscious in a puddle of blood, and with her fellow Warriors of Light preoccupied with screeching profanities after the Archbishop and preventing the other one from jumping after the airship while seething in rage and hurling all insults she knew after said airship… Well, the blood had most likely dried before they had managed to leave the Vault, and since she was uninjured at the time it would have been all the wiser to get rid of all this blood, in order to prevent a panic amongst their allies.
But… Why would they need to get rid of her hair if it was bloodstained, if… Haurchefant…
A soundless croak of horror, nothing more than air, escaped her lips and she looked around. Her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, and she saw that instead of one snoring person there were two in this room. One snoring, in a rather uncomfortable position in some kind of chair, and the other almost unmoving on the other bed.
The one in the chair had ears that twitched in their sleep, though Nemi could not make out which of her friends it was – during the day, Lahen and Lorven were worlds apart because of how they dressed and what their hair (and fur) was coloured, but right now this could both be loose long hair that was either pink or black. And they both snored rather similarly on top of that.
The second person in this room was what Nemi focused on. They were simply too tall to be either of her friends, therefore had to be a different race. Size alone left her with either a very skinny and lanky male Au Ra, a thin Roegadyn with odd proportions… or an Elezen.
Her breath caught in her throat she moved past the snoring figure on the chair and looked at the bed. It was simply too dark to tell, but she just knew.
Haurchefant. Alive. Breathing.
Sound asleep.
The Au Ra’s sight faded once more.
A kick to the shin. A snore-choke as she bolted to her feet, stumbled over them and then landed on something peculiarly soft.
Healing was exhausting, even moreso when the healer in question was a mediocre conjurer half worried to death, half lost in her own thoughts. It seemed fitting that her equal would be the one to stomp into the room this morning, armour on and all, and take his chance to inflict some kind of damage without actually injuring her for real.
Estinien and Lahen were more alike than both of them admitted, mostly because they were just two years apart, therefore the youngest people around here other than Alphinaud (and they knew better than to ask a lady like Tataru for her age). And thus, impulsive little paybacks for what had happened shortly after romping through the Stone Vigil to uncover Cid’s beloved airship were merely something that happened every other day. Or hourly.
Either way, if there was one thing likable about Estinien it was his ability to read the situation. Jump-starting Lahen like that made sure she fell over (or on top of) Nemi, who was unconscious on the floor.
“Oomph. Next time be gentler. Other people would flick my forehead, grab and slowly pull my ears, or kiss me on the cheek. A kick to the shin’s new.”
“The vaguely frightening implication of you wanting me to kiss you awake as if we were in a cheesy bedtime story for children aged four and under aside, how come your partner is on the floor? You were supposed to stay awake all night, and all of us – including Aymeric, for the Fury’s sake! – asked if you were ready for such a task. Yet here I find you, snoring louder than a dragon that breathes fire and—“
“Quiet.”
“…”
“Ah, it works every time.” With that, the Miqo’te got off her fellow Warrior of Light and dusted Nemi off. “I suppose she woke, and I slept through it. I know you’re glaring at me, stop that. Knowing Nemi her first reaction would’ve been her checking the room, and then when she found Haurchefant asleep here, she passed out.”
The second Azure Dragoon rose to her feet with a sigh and turned to look at her elder; Estinien returned her annoyed look with one of equal annoyance. Truce or not, they yet did not fully trust each other. And probably never would. They were both too impulsive for that, most likely.
“So, Estinien. Instead of standing there like an icicle, how about you… … How are you doing that? Pulling on my pants and that.”
“… Idiot.”
“No, seriously, there’s no one around other than…” A gasp, and the dragoon whipped around, immediately dropping to her knees and grabbing the hands that had gently pulled on her trousers. “Nemi! Oh, thank the Fury!”
The Au Ra shook her head slightly, a confused smile on her face as she gestured towards Estinien. Only then it dawned on both the Elezen and the Miqo’te that more than a week had passed since the incident at the Vault. And entire week the middle Warrior of Light had spent in something that resembled an eternal sleep, just without the death part accompanying it.
Lahen squeezed her eyes shut, unable to explain the situation on hand – she was always talking lots, but never in the important conversations. Since everyone except for Alphinaud was older than her, it seemed wiser to let them do the talking, and Alphinaud was simply such an excellent negotiator, the Coerthan never really had the need to speak during critical moments. She opened her mouth, and then almost immediately closed it again.
At some point Estinien groaned quietly. “What she’s most likely trying to articulate here, Lady Sakuya, is that she is very relieved to see you awake, unharmed as one can be, et cetera, et cetera. I know you’re glaring at me, stop that. I was here to check on you and make sure the morning routine went smoothly, not to interpret you opening and closing your mouth like some senseless flying fish from the Sea of Clouds. Either way, I have to admit I, too, am very glad to see you awake, Lady Sakuya.”
Nemi blinked. Since when did people, most of all Estinien, address her as such? She would have asked him that, but nothing more than a soundless breath escaped her.
Healing too much comes at a price, and it would seem that she had paid for it with her voice. Whether this was temporal or would stick around she knew not, but it was a shocking realisation nonetheless. Staring ahead of her, she almost missed the door opening and several people pouring into the room. She quickly glanced to the side, and managed to make out her fellow Scions of the Seventh Dawn, precious little as they were, as well as the feet of Lucia, Francel and Count Edmont, and a strange pair of feet that required her to look up.
Worry and relief were on everyone’s faces, but most surprising was the fact that Ser Aymeric was wearing something that Ishgardians would consider “casual clothing”. It was still fancier than anything anyone else would wear during their downtime to recover, but Nemi had long since given up on trying working out how Ishgardians worked. Even Lahen, whose father was a dragoon in this city himself, had only proclaimed the inhabitants of the city “weird people in even weirder clothes”.
The loud discussion following everyone entering the room completely went over her head. The only fact she managed to make out between her pounding headache and the missing rush of aetheric energies around her was that Haurchefant still had not woken.
Three days after that, Nemi had switched places with Lahen. It was a surprisingly pleasant morning, with light snowfall.
She knew how much the younger Warrior of Light hated being locked in, and how easily she tore through her energy resources while healing, or keeping certain spells up. Regen was advanced for a conjurer, very advanced indeed, but Lahen simply had too little an energy pool to make good use of that. So being ahead of other conjurers was made redundant by the fact it simply wouldn’t be kept up at a steady rate. How Lahen had managed taking care of both Nemi and Haurchefant was beyond the scholar, but she was in no position to question it.
Watching him sleep gave her enough time to brood, which she needed as desperately as Lahen needed to run outside in the city with zero restraints and how Lorven needed people around him at least somewhat content to be content himself.
Just like the two others before her, Nemi quickly figured out that she had made a desperate wish near a tremendous source of energy – things both Ysayle and Gilgamesh had done, and both situations had more or less produced primals of a sort. Since her using all energy she had left also left her incapable of sensing aetheric energy, she could not confirm if Haurchefant was still human or not. All she had left were simply medic applications of the art of healing – feeling with her hands, hearing with her own ears.
And by all means, there was nothing too odd about the sleeping man. His heartbeat was steady and as strong as a rested grown man’s would be if he was awake. Which was an oddity, somewhat, but it might just have been a sign that he was well and could wake if given enough incentive. His temperature was absolutely normal. Maybe a bit warm from the blanket and the fire and the room being kind of stuffy due to people constantly walking in and out, but other than that there was nothing strange there. Skin colour, normal. If she poked around his face for too long he would screw it up in his sleep. He would twitch an arm if she gently punched him on the chest.
Perfectly normal. At least the upper half of his body.
But there was no reaction when it came to his legs. Normally if she knocked something onto his knees, there would have been a jerk of some sort, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even his breathing changed a little, as if he was unaware of his legs existing in this deep sleep of his.
She groaned quietly, as much of a groan it could be without a voice. The scholar was more exhausted than she admitted – every time she had tried sleeping, the same thing would happen in her dreams and keep her awake.
The Vault. Blood everywhere. A desperate prayer not answered.
She was rather happy with her voice being gone; as she would have woken up screaming every single time she closed her eyes for too long.
Haurchefant’s steady breathing was slowly but certainly lulling her to sleep.
‘No, Nemi, don’t fall asleep now, you’re checking his injuries!’ was all she could think a few seconds before she blacked out entirely.
It was a pleasant afternoon sun she woke to, with someone gently touching her shoulder.
Afternoon sun?
Nemi bolted straight up into the chair and looked around frantically for the person who had tried waking her – but there was no one there. Now that she had a moment she realised no one would wake her that gently. Lahen was too rough a person, Lorven avoided human contact as much as he could, Ser Aymeric was once more confined to his bed (oh, how she wished she could have healed him as well), Tataru and Alphinaud’s hands were too small and Estinien never went outside of his quarters without his armour on. The hand on her shoulder wasn’t armoured as that of Lahen or Estinien would be; it couldn’t be Lorven, Tataru or Alphinaud because it was too large for that. Lucia and Count Edmond were out of the picture as well, as they were mostly preoccupied with other things than coming into this small chamber somewhere in the parts of Fortemps Manor she didn’t know.
“… Did I startle you?”
She would have recognised that voice anywhere, even if it was rather quiet compared to what she was used to. Her gaze flicked back to the bed, and she almost would have smiled widely were it not for his next words.
“My apologies… I never meant to rudely wake you like that but… you were laying on me in such awkward a position that I couldn’t feel my legs at all…”
Nemi shook her head slowly and still managed to put on a smile a few seconds before tears ran down her face. Not even Ascians could promise such a miracle to all the people and beast tribes they had managed to coax into summoning primals.