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It was, perhaps, inevitable that rage should win out in the end. That the enemy so long a shadow over Estinien’s life should finally envelop him. Even in death, Nidhogg’s will could not be denied. He’d let himself grow complacent. Around young Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light, it had felt easier to hope for the first time in years uncounted. To believe that maybe, just maybe, things could actually be different. And so he had let his guard down, acted a fool, and fallen into the gaping maw of defeat just as victory had seemed complete.
He had fought against it. Of course he had. In the end, his fury at the wyrm had only made it easier for him to be consumed. How quickly hope had fallen away after that. Rather than end Nidhogg’s reign of terror, he’d become just more fuel for the wyrm’s all consuming fire. Every life lost weighed on him. He’d been so furious with Alberic for stepping away from his duty but now he had to wonder if the older man had been correct. If Estinien had done the same himself— admitted how strong the pull of vengeance had been over his heart— it wouldn’t have come to this. Now he’d never have a chance to apologize to the man who’d been like a second father to him. To say that he finally understood.
Nor could he tell Aymeric how sorry he was for the responsibility he’d put on the other man’s shoulders. It was a small balm for his troubled soul that his friend would do what needed to be done for Ishgard. This was not how he had ever wished to die but he would rather die than lay his homeland to ruin.
So it came as a relief when the Warrior of Light, too, took to the field. He knew her commitment to fighting for others. He’d trained her himself to wield a lance when she decided a bow in hand and a song on her tongue wouldn’t be enough to protect those she loved. He’d seen her fire and her determination. Even the accursed eye had responded to her and marked her as an Azure Dragoon. Where he had fallen, she would stand.
And so she had. She’d fought with that singular force of will. Even Nidhogg could not stand before the Eikon Slayer when she fought. It enraged Nidhogg, pushing him to further ferocity. However, it also served to finally shake Estinien from utter resignation. It gave him hope, if only the hope to die. Never had he imagined he would be so glad to be at the end of another’s lance.
Just as his own rage had been his undoing, so too was it Nidhogg’s. He could see now that they were alike to the last. The beast of the first brood had been battered, body and soul. While Nidhogg was turned into a mindless, raging beast, Estinien was able to wrest control. This would be his victory, at long last. His final act.
He seized control of his body, bit by agonizing bit. His blood-caked spear clattered to the ground and, as soon as but one hand was wholly his own, he gripped his neck. The clawed tips of his gauntlets dug into his throat and he squeezed until he spat blood He could feel Nidhogg’s fury swell, threatening to burst free again at any moment. He would not let that happen even if he could not hope to end it himself. He hadn’t the strength left. Yet there was one who stood ready.
He looked up and forced himself to focus on Aubrey. If he let his eyes linger on Alphinaud, his resolve might waver and he could lose control. It would be cruel to make the boy watch as he was slain but, with luck, it would be the last act of cruelty he would commit in this life.
“I would ask one last favor of you, Warrior of Light… Finish me— now while I have the beast subdued!”
He only wished it wouldn’t require putting such a burden on another. He knew how much she carried as it was. She’d pushed her own dreams aside and taken up a lance to save a land not even her own.
Though now, it would seem, she would cast that lance aside when it was needed most. Ignoring his plea, she met Alphinaud’s eyes and the both of them ran forward with only blind hope to protect them. Those fools. Those damned fools. It was bad enough to have Alphinaud charge straight into danger. He’d thought Aubrey smarter than that. And yet…
Rather than finish him off, they set to pry away Nidhogg’s rolling, rage filled eyes. Their faith in him was almost impossible to comprehend. He’d given up but they hadn’t. They wouldn’t . Even as Nidhogg roared to be free and his manifest rage burned them. He could not let them die simply so he could live.
“You waste your time. Kill me! It is the only way! Ending Nidhogg… will be my final duty…”
He clenched his jaw until the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. The pain kept him in control, if only for another moment longer. Through the haze of it, he could see Alphinaud shake his head as he continued his mad fight against the eyes.
“No!” the boy cried. “You can’t die like this! I won’t let you!”
Estinien looked to Aubrey, desperately hoping for better senses to prevail. “Come now. You know it is the only way. Grab the pup by the scruff and stop this madness before it’s too late!”
“Not a chance,” she growled.
Something shifted deep inside of him as those two strained to pull the eyes loose. There was a flicker of something he’d thought long extinguished. As they fought for him against all reason— through their own pain— it grew. Though pain wracked his body as well, he couldn’t help but marvel at it. It was a beacon at the end of an abysmally dark tunnel. He could see a way forward. Not just out of the battle but for his life. He could be more than his obsession with Nidhogg. Whatever his life might be after this, it would be his— fully his— for the first time in remembering. That was his final thought as the eyes were wrenched free at last and he collapsed under the force of the ancient dragon’s demise.
He’d barely the strength to open his eyes when next he woke. Likely he wouldn’t stay conscious long. His eyelids longed to close and his mind felt trapped in molasses. He might have given into the urge to rest had it not been an odd, soft huffing noise. He let his head roll to the left where he found the sound was coming from a slumbering Alphinaud. More surprising than the boy’s presence was the woman at his side.
Aubrey and Alphinaud were slumped in a pair of chairs. The Viera’s long limbs were splayed in different directions, with one arm hanging off the side of the chair and the other was draped over the lad’s shoulders. It was a touching scene, if a bit baffling. They should have been in their own beds, not collapsed into rickety wooden chairs. Then again, if either of them did what they ought, he’d have been in a grave instead of a bed.
Estinien let his eyes close once more, the slightest smile curling the corners of his lips as he did. He’d never have imagined himself there. Not just alive, after all that had happened, but with those two at his side. They were idealistic fools. Too optimistic by far to be thrown into such a brutal and bloody war. They had losses of their own and yet hadn’t let those losses strip away their goodness. It was easy to see now, in retrospect, how he’d been transformed into the very embodiment of hatred and how they were the only ones who could have pulled him back out.
They believed in a better world and, though Estinien couldn’t find that same belief within himself, he would be happy to put his faith in them instead. If he was ever to take up his lance again, it would be to protect those stubborn dreamers and their impossible dreams.