Archive of Our Own

One.

The Scions were a curious bunch. Kiah'a didn't know if he trusted them yet, but they were kind enough and seemed to like each other. It was more than he could say about some groups he had worked with. That wasn't to say they were perfect. Urianger was near incomprehensible, Yda was too loud, and Papalymo didn't seem to know what to make of Kiah'a. That was alright, because he felt the same way towards the lalafell.

Other than them, Tataru was polite and Y'shtola equally so, but Kiah'a kept away from her. He caught the way she looked at his scars. The long lines across his face and over his ruined eye were quite distinct. There were only one type of claws that could cause his injuries. He didn't need Y'shtola asking what Miqo'te blinded him. He didn't want to say.

Minfilia was a bit of an enigma. Kiah'a was hesitant to take her at face value. She told him to kill primals and fight Ascians and he did. He got coin and a place to rest and eat for free. He just didn't believe that was all there was to it.

Then Thancred was. He was.

Well, he was roaring drunk when Kiah'a next stepped foot in the Waking Sands, the cacophony hitting him over the head before the door swung closed behind him. He would have bolted, but Yda noticed him and waved.

"Come to join the party?" She asked, raising an entire bottle of wine. Kiah'a blinked.

"Who is that?" Thancred shouted down the hall. There was a loud crash. It sounded like a table breaking in half. "I'm alright!"

"Mine dearest friend, perhaps thou shalt cease thy drinking—"

Kiah'a couldn't hear what else Urianger said because Yda threw an arm over his shoulder. "Let's get you a drink," she said.

"What is happening?" Kiah'a asked, pushing her off. It only earned him a laugh. Kiah'a felt a rush of anger. "Stop laughing at me," he snapped.

"I'm not laughing at you," Yda said with a pout. She stuck her hands on her hips. It was impossible to read her expression with her mask and Kiah'a hated it. "We're celebrating Thancred's nameday. I thought that you would have gotten the linkpearl message."

Kiah’a probably got the call, but he rarely answered the group linkpearl calls. If Minfilia needed him to kill someone, then she’d call him directly. That was why he was there — she had summoned him for an important meeting.

He was starting to have the sinking feeling that the meeting was not about a new primal.

“You’ll feel better with some alcohol,” Yda continued, taking his silence as consent. She steered him towards the celebration. Even though she was drunk, she didn’t seem to be hindered and stepped with confidence.

The rest of the Scions were in the main room. The tables were dragged in the center to form a stage with the chairs surrounding them. One table was toppled over, a crack straight down the middle. The reason for this was clear, as Thancred was dancing on top of the remaining tables with a mug in one hand. He was flipping knives with his other hand, the sharp objects sailing through the air with frightening speed.

Urianger seemed to be the most concerned, standing by the edge and imploring Thancred to stop. Y’shtola and Minfilia were a safer distance away, both with drinks in hand. Papalymo stood with them but without a glass. There was a half-eaten cake with a few spare plates on a chair, probably because it was short enough for the lalafell to reach without assistance.

That and all the tables were in use.

“Kiah’a! I’m so glad you made it,” Tataru shouted. She waved her hands as she ran over. “Would you like some cake?”

“I’m getting our friend a drink,” Yda told her.

We’re not friends, Kiah’a thought. “I don’t need anything,” he said aloud.

Yda stuck her tongue out at him. “Don’t be a spoilsport.” She pat him on the arm. “Besides, there’s nothing that we need to do right-right now. Tis as good a time as any to relax.”

“You are welcome to join us,” Papalymo chimed up, gesturing to himself and the two nearby women. “We are safely outside of knife range.”

“No ye ain’t,” Thancred said, spinning on his heel. "I could take out anyone within thirty paces of me in the - hic - the blink of an eye!" He punctuated the sentence by spinning on his heel. He flicked his wrist and a dagger embedded itself about a fulm from Minfilia's head. Kiah'a could feel his blood pressure rise.

"Oh my!" Minfilia's tone was somewhere between amusement and mild concern. Not for herself but rather for Thancred, who wobbled and looked about to topple ass over teakettle. She managed to tear her eyes away from him to focus on Kiah'a. There was a smile on her face. "Kiah'a, fullglad am I you returned in time for the festivities."

"Every year Thancred is determined to prove that he has not aged at all from those prior," Y'shtola said in a condescending tone, as if Kiah'a didn't know how birthdays or the passage of time worked. Kiah'a assumed it was condescension — he didn't know how else to interpret her smug smile and slight head tilt. "T'would be a shame for you to miss the event."

He crossed his arms. "I do not care much for celebrations," he said curtly.

Tataru frowned. She did her little nervous dance, eyebrows furrowing. "Oh, you don't need to be shy. We just want you to feel included," she said.

"Quite," Papalymo concurred. "And we shall pester you no more. Thancred, perhaps you can begin the fire breathing portion of your display."

Kiah'a felt a rush of relief as attention was drawn away from himself and towards Thancred, as Papalymo intended. Urianger began to implore Thancred to change his mind. Kiah'a thought Thancred had the right to burn himself if he wanted, but he wasn't about to speak up.

He started to feel his breathing start to even out when Tataru walked off. She liked to make small talk too much, asking questions like Where in the Shroud are you from? and What's your family like? Even if he knew she was being polite, he hated talking to her. He hated talking about himself.

He was too caught up in his thoughts, debating the best way to escape without drawing further notice, to register Tataru coming back. She cleared her throat as she held up a plate with a slice of cake.

"For you! I made it with Yda's help," she cheerfully informed him.

"Buttercream with a hint of rum," Yda piped up. "Thancred's favorite."

"Tell me what you think," Tataru added.

Kiah'a had never eaten a buttercream cake and wasn't sure what "a hint of rum" even meant. He took the plate anyways, hesitantly reaching out with his finger and sticking it in the frosting. He licked his finger clean before noticing the others were staring. He blinked and then realized Tataru was holding a fork in her other hand.

Embarrassment made his face go dark, his ears burning and his heart racing. He felt his tail wrap around his leg. He wished that the ground would simply open up from underneath him and swallow him whole.

You know better, he thought. You know not to eat with your hands like a Twelvesdamned savage.

"Um, you don't have to—" Tataru yelped as Kiah'a grabbed the fork from her, stabbing it into the cake.

He lifted the entire piece and took a bite from it. The dessert tasted like ash. He wondered if he was going to be sick.

"I hope you like it," Tataru squeaked. "W-What's your favorite kind of cake?"

Kiah'a put the piece back down. He stared at her, confused by the question.

"Y-You see, I make something for everyone's nameday. W-We try to celebrate a little. It doesn't have to be a party — Urianger hates them too — but just so you feel important." Tataru wrung her hands together. "I've been meaning to ask about your nameday."

Everything went cold. Kiah’a swayed a bit, suddenly unsteady on his own feet. There was nothing inside of him except a cavern, a hollow space where good and warm things went to die. That was the only explanation for why he felt nothing but a burning, all-consuming fear. His breathing went heavy. His scars itched. His entire body went frozen.

Y'shtola stepped closer. "Tataru, I think our friend may need a little space," she suggested. Her eyes landed on Kiah'a and he knew that she knew how he was feeling.

And with secrecy taken away, with every instinct screaming at him that he was backed into the proverbial corner, that left only one option:

To lash out.

"Don't ask me questions!" He shouted, throwing the cake at the wall. It hit the stone with a splat . "I did not wish to be involved. I came back because I thought there was another primal to slay, not for some meaningless celebration. Stop treating me like a friend when you don't know a thing about me."

Tataru's eyes were watering and her bottom lip trembled. Kiah'a felt guilt building up, but if he stopped now then the others would think him weak. They'd know that he was easy to manipulate. That he hated seeing women cry.

It reminded him too much of his mother and his aunts.

"There's no need to yell," Thancred chided, suddenly sobering up by several degrees. "She only asked an innocent question."

"I do not wish to be asked questions," Kiah'a repeated. He reached up to pull on his ears, the pain shooting down his spine. It helped him focus, reminded him of the danger around him.

Minfilia held up a hand. "I know that Tataru meant no offense, fr— Kiah'a. I apologize if the question was too personal."

"It was only about his nameday," Yda muttered, not realizing that Kiah'a could hear her.

"I don't know my nameday!" Kiah'a shouted. His hands were trembling and he shoved them under his armpits. His tail was still tight around his leg. Was that why he felt so unbalanced? Was that why he felt like he could pass out at any moment? "Some of us were never told such things and have never celebrated with — with cake."

He could feel every pair of eyes on him. He knew he had said the wrong thing when, mortifyingly, Minfilia's stern expression began to soften. If he stayed, then he knew too much would come out. He'd have to explain that his father was a tyrant who ruled over his harem of women, that Kiah'a had run away, and that Kiah'a hadn't spoken with his mother since then.

That Kiah'a's nameday was never shared because his birth was not something to celebrate.

"Just — tell me where the next primal is," he muttered. He hunched his shoulders before turning on his heels. "Otherwise leave me be."

"Kiah'a—" Tataru went silent as Y'shtola walked over.

"Let him go, Tataru. Our friend needs his space."

Two.

Kiah'a stepped into The Forgotten Knight and shivered as a biting gust followed him into the tavern. His armor was coated in a thin layer of frost and he had to brush ice out of his hair and off his ears. He huffed as he stomped down the stairs, heading down the landing to the actual bar.

Sidurgu and Rielle were at their normal table, far from the other regulars. Kiah'a squinted at them. Sidurgu rarely smiled, but today his expression was so dark it felt like a void was slowly consuming him.

"You look like you ate a lemon," Kiah'a said in lieu of a polite greeting.

Neither person replied. Rielle shifted back and forth. She wasn't looking Kiah'a in the eyes, a habit that he had gotten used to quickly.

But Sidurgu also wasn't focusing on Kiah'a. His eyes were pointed at Kiah’a but his gaze was distant. Their brilliant light wasn’t as sharp as normal, as if Sidurgu were drunk. The absence hit him like a hammer to the chest and left an ache . He hated it. If he could, he’d pry the feeling out of his chest with his own claws.

"Hey," Kiah'a said instead, snapping his fingers. His gauntlets made it difficult, the sound a dry rasp instead of a sharp note. "I thought we were going to train."

Sidurgu blinked, shaking his head slightly. "What?" He asked.

Kiah'a felt another stab to the chest. This one was rage. He forced himself to breathe. Yelling would not help. Lashing out only pushed people away.

"Today. Training. While Cid and the others are fiddling with airships or whatnot." Kiah'a pointed to the sword on his back. Sidurgu's face shifted. Not quite disgust, not quite sorrow.

If Kiah'a were more poetic, he might have called it melancholy. As it was, he just crossed his arms. His tail lasted back and forth.

"If you have better things to do, then just—"

"It's Fray's birthday," Rielle interrupted, chin jutting out as she looked up at him. Kiah'a swallowed, a pit growing in his stomach.

Menphina's tits, he thought.

He reached up and tugged on one of his ears. "I see." He didn't know what else to say, but he didn't want to run away. He had told himself that he was done running from fights physical and verbal. But he wouldn’t attack either, would hold his tongue better than he had in the past.

It was the least he could do. After all, a smile better suits a hero.

"We're drinking," Sidurgu said. He slid a tankard across the table. Kiah'a took it. He stared at the murky liquid inside. He could feel two pairs of eyes on him.

"To the dead," Kiah'a murmured. He saluted. He drank. It was cold like everything else in Ishgard, but at least it burned on the way down.

Sidurgu raised his own before taking a long swing. Rielle leaned against him. She barely came up past his hips. It made it easy for him to swing an arm around her, a protective gesture that made Kiah'a's stomach churn. He tried not to think about it. He wanted to know what that felt like, what it was like to rely on another — but no. It was pointless to imagine being cared for that way.

He blamed it on the low quality swill — not that he had experience drinking better.

Regardless of the taste, he swallowed down more. It was strong, brewed for intensity, not aesthetic. Thancred probably would have liked it and out-drunk everyone else in the bar. Meanwhile, Kiah’a already felt his head spinning.

"No training," Kiah'a started, then stopped. He suddenly felt very foolish, every ilm between him and Sidurgu a malm.

Sidurgu raised an eyebrow. Kiah'a couldn't pull his eyes away. His heart was beating rapidly, picking up in pace every second they stared at each other. His eyes were captivating. Kiah'a would rather drown himself than admit it, but he wanted to stare into Sidurgu's eyes and run his hands through the long, pale locks of hair for hours and hours. He wanted to lean against Sidurgu and know that the man would protect him, that they could fight side by side together.

Not that Kiah'a would ever breathe a word of his interest in Sidurgu. There was a very short list of people Kiah'a had ever been attracted to. Two of the four were now dead. The third was locked in stasis in a tower, frozen in time. It was hard to shake the terrible dread that Sidurgu would be the next doomed fool.

"Go on," Sidurgu prompted.

"Let's get out of here." Kiah'a cleared his throat. "I mean, do you want to go elsewhere? Fray deserves better than this."

For a moment, he was certain Sidurgu was going to throw him out. Sidurgu would fall into a rage, because Kiah'a didn't deserve to speak Fray's name, and all chances of learning how to be a dark knight would be gone. All chances of being in Sidurgu's life would be gone.

But Sidurgu just shrugged. He looked down at Rielle.

"Feeling up for a walk?" He asked her. She nodded. Sidurgu turned to Kiah'a. There was not a sliver of anger in his eyes. "Alright. Lead the way."

The trio ended up in the Western Highlands. Kiah'a was more familiar with the Central Highlands, but he didn't want to see Camp Dragonhead. He hadn’t been back since Haurchefant’s death. It wasn’t running away if he had other things to do, other places to be.

At least, that was what he told himself.

There were still Temple Knights to avoid in the Highlands, but Kiah'a was well-versed in keeping out of the way. Sidurgu moved with less stealth, but a thick cloak over his armor was sufficient when the guards were looking elsewhere. Rielle kept close to his side. Sometimes, it felt like she disappeared into his shadow.

The trio ended up on top of a peak, high above the rest of the highland. Kiah'a pulled a thick blanket from his bag, placing it on an exposed stone. It wasn't comfortable, but no one complained as they sat. They stared over the icy expanse. Other than some ice sprites and a pack of wolves howling in the distance, they were alone.

It was a beautiful day without a cloud in the sky. Even with the snow, Coerthas was still a sight to behold.

Kiah'a wondered what Coerthas had been like before the Calamity. He tried to picture green hills with trees dotting the landscape and farms providing flashes of color. Growing up in the Shroud, Kiah'a knew what it was like to be surrounded by nature. Coerthas was the complete opposite, harsher. It would consume you and leave nothing to be found.

He wondered if Rielle recalled any time before the Calamity had frozen her home to the core.

Of course not, Kiah'a thought. Before the Calamity, she was in a cell.

Kiah’a felt nausea whenever he thought about Rielle’s past. Her father had abandoned her to follow his heretical beliefs. Her mother considered her an abomination and was hunting her. If she found Rielle, then it would be over. Fray’s sacrifice would be in vain. Instead of fury, Rielle had chosen quiet acceptance. She was a teenager, after all, and she could not stand up against the resources of a noble house.

If it weren’t for Fray and Sidurgu, she most likely would be dead. Kiah’a didn’t like thinking about it.

Didn’t like thinking about how he could see himself in her scared eyes.

Had he gotten better in the years since his own escape? He wasn't certain. Foulques had challenged him to face his fears before throwing himself off a cliff. Haurchefant had gently turned him down, saying that he needed to focus on himself first. Then he had died to save Kiah'a, uttering his last words in his arms.

In a cruel twist, G’raha had locked himself in the Tower before Kiah’a could acknowledge that their rivalry had turned into actual admiration. Kiah’a knew that they’d never see each other again — at least not in this lifetime.

Kiah'a didn't know if he had faced his fears. He was trying to focus on himself, but it was hard when everyone was demanding his attention.

He was so caught up in his thoughts of lost possibilities and his abandoned family that he didn't notice the long, long look Sidurgu was giving him.

Eventually Sidurgu broke the silence. “Fray always liked the winter,” he said. Kiah’a started, thrown out of his brooding. He swallowed before gesturing for Sidurgu to continue. “When we were young, he always worked the hardest of us. But the first snowfall of every year, he would goad our master into a snowball fight.”

“He always seemed so serious,” Rielle murmured. She was poking at the snow with a gloved hand. A few crystals stuck to the wool.

“He was serious when he needed to be — when there was something to do or someone to protect.” Sidurgu glanced down at Kiah’a. “You would have liked him.”

Kiah’a wasn’t sure what to say. He spent a month thinking that he was learning from someone only to find out that Fray was dead and he was talking to himself. In hindsight, it was a bit pathetic he hadn’t realized sooner. He knew what a dead body looked like. He knew, too, what he sounded like when he was furious. What his voice twisted into, what words spewed from his mouth. His anger was a well documented thing, an entity all of its own.

There goes the Warrior of Light. Make sure to tread lightly around him, lest he lashes out with lance or word! As if he couldn’t hear them. As if he were a wild animal.

He curled his hands into fists. His gauntlets stopped him from cutting into his own palms. His bad eye stung but he resisted the urge to rub at it.

“Kiah’a?” Rielle asked, and he realized he had been quiet for some time.

“Yeah,” he muttered, looking out over the cold wastes of the highlands. It was vast enough that one could be swallowed whole and never seen again. The idea was frightening but also more than a little comforting. No primals, no Ascians. Just ice and snow.

Kiah’a looked at Sidurgu. “I think we would have gotten along. I’m sorry to not have that chance. And if I find the people who killed him, I’ll avenge him.” He meant every word. Sidurgu inclined his head.

“Only if you do not die in the process,” he replied. He didn’t try to argue with Kiah’a about how there were better things to do or how he shouldn’t sully his hands with the blood of others. Kiah’a liked that about him.

“I’d miss you,” Rielle added. Her face was red. It was hard to tell if that was due to the cold or her words. Kiah’a gave her a small smile.

“I won’t die. And we won't let anything happen to you," Kiah'a added. Rielle frowned. Kiah'a wasn't sure why, but decided not to push her. He just grabbed her cloak and tucked it closer to her. "You're going to get a cold if you aren't careful."

"... Thank you," Rielle murmured. Sidurgu grunted, shifting slightly where he sat. He said nothing, just watched out over the cliff as snow lightly began to fall.

Three.

Alisaie sat down across from Kiah’a with a long sigh. “I know that I should try to enjoy being in another country, but I can’t help but feel like I’m a rat running in a maze. One corner turned and a new puzzle encountered. We’ve made progress, but is it enough?”

Kiah’a slid a drink across the table. Alisaie was technically not old enough to drink in Eorzea, but they weren't in Eorzea and he didn’t care. She was putting her life on the line to save the damn world — she might as well enjoy some alcohol.

She chugged it down with a casual familiarity. Kiah'a's lips twitched. He knew this wasn't her first foray into spirits. She slammed the glass on the table, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Do you know what the plan is now?” Alisaie asked.

“Gosetsu insists that he is well enough to travel. We leave tomorrow for Yanxia — and Doma proper.” Kiah’a raised his glass. He had been waiting for long enough that his was only half full. “Happy birthday.”

Alisaie blushed. She looked away even as she raised her own. “Thank you.”

"Got you these." Kiah'a reached down to dig through his bag. It was hard with only one hand — he was still getting used to being down an arm. Thankfully the package was right on top. He tossed it at Alisaie, who caught it with ease. "Sorry, it’s not much. Only learned this morning because Lyse was talking Gosetsu’s ear off."

Alisaie examined the gift. It was a small box with a set of red leather gloves that would probably fit. Kiah'a wasn't too good with sizes and the local craftsman had a limited selection. But Alisaie still smiled and seemed genuine when she said,

"Thank you, Kiah'a. This is too kind of you." She opened the box before holding one of the gloves up. The leather gleamed even in the dimly lit room. The small village didn’t hold a candle to Kugane, but the villagers were thankful for the aid of the Scions and didn’t charge them.

It was simple enough for Alisaie to tug her current pair of gloves off and don the gift. Thankfully, they fit perfectly. Kiah’a let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He even managed to return her smile.

“Glad you like them.” He leaned back, content to let the conversation wind on. Naturally, life would not be so easy.

“I thought you didn’t like birthdays,” Alisaie blurted out. She seemed to realize her mistake the next moment, visibly wincing and looking away. “You don’t need to say anything. I apologize. I sound ungrateful.”

The two fell silent. Kiah’a mulled over his next words. He could leave it there. He didn’t need to poke and prod at a topic of conversation that he disliked at the best of times and detested the rest. Only…

I'm proud of you, Sidurgu had said before he left Eorzea. The last night they shared together felt like an eon ago. Sidurgu had been warm enough that Kiah’a hadn’t felt the draft in the room. The blankets were itchy but Sidurgu meant that Kiah’a didn’t notice.

You are the bravest man I've ever known, Sidurgu swore.

And brave men didn't run from their fears.

Kiah’a sighed.

“No, I don’t. They’re a sensitive subject. In the past, I took out my feelings on others even when they just wanted to be kind. But just because I have… certain opinions does not mean I can burden my friends with them.” Kiah’a looked at his mug and decided now was a great time to drink more. He swallowed the rest of the shōchū in a single gulp. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but Lyse has a cake waiting for you. No, I haven’t a clue how she acquired one. I will be busy, but I didn’t want you to think I was avoiding you.”

The confession was hard to say. He felt like his tongue was made of lead and his blind eye burned. But he managed to get the words out and he didn’t think he offended anyone.

Alisaie nodded. Her finger traced a nonsense pattern in the residue on her glass. She didn’t speak for a long time.

“It may sound stupid, but this might be one of the better birthdays I’ve ever had. Listen to me, a whole world away from home and my family and I’m excited .” She let out a soft chuckle and shook her head. “I would not presume to know what your life has been like, but birthdays have never been easy for me either. My parents, as loving as they are, always favored Alphinaud. Not that they were too obvious about it, mind you, but I knew.”

Kiah’a frowned, though it wasn’t a surprise. Alphinaud’s attitude before the Bloody Banquet didn’t come from nowhere.

“I always had a party, but I shared it with Alphinaud. We shared most things, actually, but that is neither here nor there.” Alisaie shrugged. She didn’t sound particularly upset, but Kiah’a knew that some wounds were too deep to be seen. “I love my brother. He’s brilliant. Always the top of every class, the first to master any new material. I know that we’re both geniuses, but he was half a yalm ahead and knew it. Any celebration for both of us was mostly for him.”

“That’s awful,” Kiah’a said, not caring that he was interrupting. Alisaie opened her mouth and then closed it. “That explains much. When I first met him, I wanted to dunk Alphinaud in the nearest river. Repeatedly.”

Alisaie laughed, covering her mouth with one hand. “He probably wouldn’t have learned a thing. Talking to him after everything that happened, though… Sometimes it feels like I’m talking to a completely different person. But he is still my brother with that same stubborn nature and endless optimism.”

“I could say the same about you,” Kiah’a replied without hesitation. It was easier to be earnest with the twins. Something about how they were younger, perhaps, made them less difficult to talk to than the other Scions. That and the fact that Kiah’a didn’t have to crane his neck.

“Ha, you’re too kind.” Alisaie didn’t seem to take him too seriously regardless. She paused before adding, “I think — no, I know that this is the first year I’m not celebrating my birthday with him.”

Kiah’a nodded. though he wasn’t sure if she meant that positively or not. He had no siblings, so he could only guess what it was like to grow up with one, let alone being an identical twin. “It could be the first of many, if you’d like.”

Alisaie didn’t respond at first. She just looked at her glass. The gentle swell of the sea was just loud enough to fill the silence, but not so clamorous that Kiah’a felt on edge. He liked the east with its warm beaches and calm winds. He already knew he would want to drag Sidurgu and Rielle to visit at some point, once the world was a little less in danger.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Alisaie asked suddenly. Kiah’a blinked. His bad eye itched. A phantom pain shot up his right side, as if he still had an arm instead of a nub that ended above where his elbow should be. He gestured for her to continue. “Would you ever celebrate your birthday?”

He felt that familiar cold sensation in his stomach, like swallowing ice. It trailed through his body, following his veins and numbing his fingers. But instead of anger, he just felt sadness. A deep, bone-wary sadness that made him ache for the familiar dingy feeling of the Forgotten Knight and Sidurgu’s steady company.

But Kiah’a didn’t let any of that on, content to swallow his feelings instead of lashing out. They weren’t Alisaie’s fault, after all.

“To do that, I’d need to know when I was born first,” he said dryly. He stood up. “Let me get us another drink, then you best be off before Lyse comes looking for you.”

He could feel Alisaie’s eyes on him as he left her.

Four.

A cheer went up as Ryne blew out the candles. The smoke drifted through the air in thin wisps. She looked at the gathered Scions and friends, glancing between all of them. Her gaze lingered on Kiah’a. He managed a small smile. His entire body still ached from its trials and tribulations, but even he couldn’t think of an excuse to ditch the celebration. After all, they had defeated Emet-Selch. They had saved the First and the Source.

Kiah’a refused to have anything in his honor, but he wouldn’t deny Ryne the opportunity to have a birthday party.

“Tis an auspicious moment, one heralded by the brightest northern star. Thy year shall be merry and thine luck more full than a blessed cup,” Urianger declared. Thancred nodded as if he understood what Urianger said — maybe he did.

“Happy birthday, Ryne. I hope you enjoy the cake — I worked tirelessly to procure it,” Thancred told her.

Y’shtola chuckled. “Aye, he bothered every hard-working baker in the Crystarium until he found one that would make such a… spectacle.”

“I do not think I have ever seen something so tall,” Lyna piped up. Kiah’a was inclined to agree. The cake was four tiers of pure white, standing so high on its platter that he was dwarfed by it — not that such a feat was difficult. Ryne had to stand on a stool to reach her candles.

She carefully stepped down, her eyes landing on Gaia. “Will you help me give everyone a slice?”

Gaia sighed, flipping her hair back even as she went to do as asked. It was an ordeal to get slices, the whole thing kept together with copious amounts of frosting. Ryne cut a large piece first. When no one seemed inclined to take it, Thancred took one for the team as Urianger suggested the next was a bit more reasonable.

“None for me, thank you,” G’raha said when he was offered a plate. “Kiah’a, do you want any?” G'raha's voice took on a quieter tone, eyes flickering between the cake, Kiah’a, and Sidurgu.

Time seemed to slow, though Kiah'a knew it was just his own perception and nothing malicious. Recent events had made him a bit jumpy. He looked at his partners, trying to take in how they felt. Sidurgu kept his face blank, not giving G'raha so much as a twitch.

Regardless of the situation, he never offered G’raha any suggestions as to the best course of action. Kiah’a appreciated that. As glad as he was that the two got along, he also couldn’t help but feel like he was on the back foot at times. It wasn’t like Sidurgu and G’raha had been close during the three years Sidurgu was stuck on the First, but those were three more years than Kiah’a had spent with either of them. The two had a mutual understanding. And perhaps G’raha’s books hadn’t shared the whole story of who Kiah’a was, but the pages had still contained enough of his life.

But having G'raha figure out who Kiah'a actually was beyond his existence as the Warrior of Light was refreshing and, in many ways, welcomed. It helped that Kiah'a had, as Thancred eloquently said one night, removed the boulder weighing on his shoulder .

“Sure,” Kiah’a said, making a snap decision. He stepped forward and accepted the plate G'raha gave him. “Haven’t had a birthday cake in a while.”

“Oh?” Ryne tilted her head. Next to her, Thancred paled several shades. “Do you not like it? Please do not force yourself to eat it for my sake. Though, I’m not sure what we are going to do with the extra.”

“I’m certain we can find a use,” Alisaie declared. "Never heard of a guard turning down some cake."

“Mine thoughts mirror thine," Urianger agreed. "Did thoust know that cake is not the traditional food of choice for the celebrations of birth in many cultures? In fact, there are many who—" He fell quiet as Thancred handed him a slice of cake. Even the most erudite of men could find their thoughts interrupted by the draw of a well cooked dessert.

Kiah'a conjured a hovering disc of aether to put his plate on. It took minor focus as he picked at the cake with a fork. He was more than a little relieved that no one offered to hold the plate for him. Keeping it afloat with aether was a silly party trick he had honed but was invaluable with only one arm.

"What do you think?" Ryne asked him once he had a few bites.

It was too sweet and Kiah'a already dreaded having to finish his slice. He still gave Ryne a small smile.

"Excellent. Thancred chose well." He could see Alphinaud visibly relax and did his best not to be offended. The lad hadn't even been in the Waking Sands during Thancred's birthday party. Kiah’a knew that all the Scions had talked about what had happened, but he would have thought that saving the world a few times would make them forget about it.

You’re a fool if you think anyone will ever look at you as anything other than a beast, a creature that needs to be tamed. You—

“Is aught amiss?” G’raha murmured. He reached out but hesitated, hand hovering a few ilms away. Kiah’a blinked. G’raha was on his left and Sidurgu was on his right. He was safely between the two people who claimed to love him. Most of the time, he even believed them.

Kiah’a put his fork on his plate. Hand now free, he laced his fingers with G’raha’s.

“No, just thinking,” he replied. Sidurgu squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t mind me. Tis Ryne’s party,” he pointed out.

Hearing her name, Ryne stopped her conversation with Gaia and Alisaie to look at Kiah’a. “Yes?”

“Ah, no. T’was nothing,” Kiah’a assured her.

“Actually, perhaps you have an opinion on the subject,” Gaia spoke up. She flipped some of her hair over her shoulder. “Ryne is under the impression that I should pick my birthday.”

“What?” Kiah’a felt his brows furrow in confusion. “Why would you?"

“I do not know my birthday,” Ryne explained. “Ranjit never told me. He would tell me how old I was when I asked, and eventually I learned to track the days, but I do not remember my birth. So I chose a day.”

Despite his general distaste for the subject, Kiah’a couldn’t help but ask, “How did you pick?”

Ryne’s eyes flicked over to Thancred, who was examining his nails in far more detail than he had any right, then back to Kiah’a. “I picked a date that was important to me,” she said. “And I am trying to tell Gaia that she may do the same.”

Gaia waved a hand in the air. “Tis an indulgence that I do not understand. Whyever does it matter when my birthday is? If I wished for you to celebrate me, I could simply ask for it.”

Thancred laughed. “For one, a birthday is a great time to ask for gifts. Now, shall we open Ryne’s?” He clapped his hands together. Urianger started to direct the festivities towards the stack of presents. Even though there was still over half the cake left, it seemed like the actual focus was shifting.

Kiah’a took a deep breath. He plucked his plate from where it was suspended in the air. The clawing sweetness of the cake still stuck to the back of his teeth and coated his tongue.

“Do you want any of it?” Kiah’a asked Sidurgu, holding it up to him. Sidurgu shook his head. He looked about to ask a question and Kiah’a cut him off with a quick, “Let us not abandon the party. Pray, do not concern yourself with me.”

“You are always on my mind,” G’raha said. Sidurgu grunted in agreement. Kiah’a appreciated the sentiment, but he still made a face.

“I shall encourage you to develop some hobbies then.” He didn’t have a free hand, but he nudged G’raha with his hip. “Come, I know you wish to see Ryne’s reaction to your gift.”

“What did you get her?” Sidurgu inquired as the trio followed the others across the courtyard. Ryne was opening a package from Y’shtola, if Kiah’a had to guess from the style of the wrapping.

“I had a new pair of shoes made for her. They are enchanted to help keep her feet dry no matter where she treads,” G’raha replied proudly.

Sidurgu nodded slowly. “I purchased her a set of knives. Rielle always wanted knives.” There was a hint of sorrow in his tone.

Kiah’a looked at him with as serious an expression as he could manage. “And we will be there in time for her next birthday, I swear.” He felt G'raha lean away from him and simply shifted even closer to him. "We all shall return. I will see it done."

"I trust you," Sidurgu replied.

"Are you three lovebirds ready to join the rest of us?" Thancred shouted. Kiah'a huffed, only just resisting the urge to summon an aetherial hand to make a rude gesture. Thancred got his wish though, as the trio went to join the others and celebrate Ryne's first birthday as a freed girl.

Five.

Kiah’a waited to give the gift until they were getting ready for bed. He sat next to G'raha rather than his side of the mattress. G'raha blinked at him, surprise and concern etched on his face.

"Is aught amiss?" He asked. Kiah'a shook his head. He held up a poorly wrapped package. It was lumpy and held together with rough twine that he found in the annex common room.

"For you. Happy birthday." Kiah'a cleared his throat. "Sorry, I know tis not much. And tis late."

G'raha's eyes went wide. "No, pray do not apologize. I was not aware that you knew t'was my nameday." He took the package with reverence that it truly did not deserve. “How did you know?”

“Krile was conveniently speaking to Y’sholta about it a few weeks ago. Loudly, and in a place I am known to linger,” Kiah’a explained. He rolled his eyes. “I am no child and t’would be appreciated if the others were to acknowledge that. And before you say it, I am aware that I made this bed for myself. But almost two years have passed — longer if we include our time on the First — and yet all act as if it were yesterday.”

“They care about your feelings,” G’raha said charitably.

“They ought to care a little less,” Kiah’a still huffed. “But enough of me — open your gift before I take it back.”

G’raha knew that there was no real threat in his words. He laughed and pressed a kiss to Kiah’a’s cheek. “Many thanks, my star,” he said before examining the package. He was quiet as he carefully opened it, first untying the knot in the twine and then pulling the paper off. Kiah’a felt his tail thump against the bed from his own impatience, but he said nothing.

After a minute or so, G’raha revealed his gift. It was a plain blanket, dark red and soft as feathers. “Oh! Tis beautiful,” he exclaimed. Kiah’a rolled his eyes.

“Tis a blanket, and one bought from the market a short stroll from here. Do not pretend that tis anything else,” Kiah’a chided, but not in a cruel way. “But here, look.” He reached out and grabbed a corner of the blanket. He flipped it around so G’raha could see the tiny embroidered R + K + S . The letters were gold and just large enough to be visible without squinting.

“Oh! I did not know you could embroider.” G’raha beamed at Kiah’a.

“I don’t,” Kiah’a said bluntly. “But the merchant did and agreed to add it for a fee. Tis why I am late in handing it to you, but I am under the impression that personalization adds a nice touch.”

“It does,” G’raha agreed. He leaned over and kissed Kiah’a. His bottom lip was chapped. Kiah’a wouldn’t have him any other way. “I will treasure it, truly. Pray, do not minimize this simply because you purchased it.”

Kiah’a frowned, looking to the side. “You deserve better. If we were not to invade Garlemald in a night, then I would have come up with something worthy. As it is, consider this—”

“A thoughtful and practical gift from my thoughtful and practical partner.” G’raha gave him a warm look. “I shall not allow you to speak ill of yourself.” He leaned against Kiah’a. His tail lightly smacked against Kiah’a’s. There was no hesitation as Kiah’a entwined their tails together. It was comforting, yet another way that they could be close.

A moment passed. G’raha was running his thumb over the embroidery, gently tracing each letter. Kiah’a wanted to say something, but there was too much on his mind. There weren’t enough words in the language for him to explain his fears, his anxieties, his hopes. He didn’t know what they’d find in Garlemald. That wasn’t new. He hadn’t known what to expect facing Lahabrea or what he’d find in Azys Lla.

The difference was that he wouldn’t be alone. Much like facing Emet-Selch, he’d have his friends with him. He just wished that brought him comfort instead of increasing his worry.

“I know that there has hardly been a moment to rest since we returned. The fact that you still went out of your way to find me a gift means a great deal,” G’raha murmured. Kiah’a shifted in on the bed, uncomfortable with the praise. G’raha didn’t let him escape. He wrapped his free arm around Kiah’a’s waist, loose enough that Kiah’a could move away if he needed but a solid reminder nonetheless.

He didn’t leave. He felt a bit jumpy, like there were sparks traveling up and down his spine, but not to the point where it was unbearable.

“At the risk of ruining the moment, may I ask you something?” G’raha asked. Kiah’a frowned but nodded. “Have you thought about picking a birthday for yourself?”

Kiah’a could not stop the sigh that escaped him. A headache started to build in his skull, a steady thrum that made it impossible to think straight. He pulled away, G’raha’s arm dropping to the bed. Their tails still remained entwined, but the space helped the static fade from his mind.

“You do not need to share, of course, but—”

“It’s not that easy,” Kiah’a interrupted. He couldn’t look at G’raha. Instead he stared at the floor, at where G’raha’s boots were neatly set at the foot of the bed. They had never discussed G’raha staying with Kiah’a, but when rooms were being assigned Krile had put them together. Neither of them had argued. It hadn’t been a big deal at the time.

Now, Kiah’a was wondering where he was supposed to go if he needed to run. The urge was always present, but it was growing by the day. Now it was strong enough that he felt pain in his chest. He was the Warrior of Light. For what did he need companions? They only got in the way, risking life and limb where he could overcome obstacles alone. He could only stomp down on the feeling before he did anything that he would regret.

“It is not so simple to choose a day. It would be wrong to select one at random, but there are hardly any with proper weight that do not also have a shadow. Do I pick when I escaped the Coeurlclaws? I could, but that is also when the Wailers hurt me. Or I could choose when I picked up a lance, except I hardly can use one now.” Kiah’a waved his stump to prove his point. The injury rarely hurt and he was skilled at adjusting his shirts now. Most days it was an annoyance, but not a weakness. It still would always be a what-if, thoughts of who he would be with both arms coming up in his quiet moments. “And I shall not choose based on when I met someone, or when we did such things like end the Dragonsong War or liberate Ala Mhigo.”

“I understand,” G’raha assured him. “Mine apologies. I knew it may be distressing and still asked.”

Kiah’a shook his head. “You should not have to live in fear of how I will act upon a simple question.”

“I do not. I do not fear you and I never will.” G’raha reached out. His hand was warm against Kiah’a’s. “But I do not wish to harm you either.”

Everyone does, Kiah’a thought, but did not say. It was not true. Not anymore.

“When you pick a day, I shall be there. And if you never do, be assured that I shall ever be by your side. No matter what we encounter and where we go, there is no force on this star that can tear me away,” G’raha swore.

Kiah’a’s ears flattened against his head. “Do not say such things. The last time you made such oaths, Emet-Selch shot you.”

Despite the reminder of the grim past, G’raha laughed. “I have no intention of being shot again. At least, not in that sort of a situation.”

“Good. No more sacrificing yourself for the greater good. Never again shall you even consider such a thing. You’re worth more alive than dead,” Kiah’a reminded him. His voice had a hard edge, the conversation not one he enjoyed having. G’raha gave him a goofy smile, the sort that he adopted when he was about to say sickeningly sweet nothings. Kiah’a held up a hand to stop him. “Say no more. Put the blanket aside and let’s go to bed. We have an invasion to start tomorrow.”

G’raha did not pout because he was a very mature Miqo’te who had run a city for several hundred years, but it was close. He nuzzled against Kiah’a. “I shall say only this, then: I know how difficult it can be for you to discuss birthdays and to celebrate them, even for others. And while tis no necessity, your efforts mean a great deal to me.”

Kiah’a swallowed. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He squeezed G’raha’s hand, turning so that he could press his forehead against G’raha’s. He closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and, with great effort, started to purr.

G’raha gasped. It was not the first time Kiah’a purred around him, but Kiah’a usually repressed the urge. He knew his purr was wrong. It sounded less smooth and more like a backfiring magitek engine, stuttering and stopping and jumping all about.

In contrast, G’raha had a proper purr. His was gentle and soothing. It made Kiah’a’s shoulders relax and his heart slow.

He did not flinch when G’raha pressed their lips together. He learned into the kiss, sighing in content when G’raha threaded his fingers through Kiah’a’s hair.

“Good night, my star,” G’raha murmured once he pulled back. His eyes were bright and ever-hopeful. Kiah’a’s heart skipped a beat.

“G’night,” Kiah’a replied softly. He crawled into the bed on his proper side, curling up underneath the sheets. He threw his arm over G’raha. Kiah’a’s stomach flipped as G’raha snuggled closer, not a single ilm between them.

Kiah’a found that it was easy to fall asleep when he could hear G’raha breathing next to him.

Plus One.

Kiah’a brought it up to Sidurgu first. They were enjoying a quiet Ishgardian morning after the end of the world, Kiah’a curled up in the crook of Sidurgu’s arm. His scales were warm under Kiah’a’s fingertips even if the air was cold.

“10th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon.”

Sidurgu blinked. He tilted his head to look at Kiah’a through his eyelashes. Kiah’a resolutely did not look back.

“Yes?” Sidurgu asked.

“That’s my birthday.” Kiah’a was not shivering, but he found that it was suddenly hard to breathe. He tried to swallow. His throat was too dry.

“Okay.” Sidurgu leaned down to kiss the top of Kiah’a’s head. “Thank you for telling me.” Because he was truly Twelve-sent, he did not ask any questions and he did not bring it up again.

G’raha was a bit more enthused, though he focused on one rather important fact.

“But that is only a month away! We must begin planning a celebration posthaste — if you would like one, that is,” G’raha quickly added. Kiah’a reached up to tug at his ears but stopped halfway. His hand ended up twisting in the leather straps attaching his summoner tome to his belt.

“I trust you,” he said. “Pray, do not do anything too… elaborate. And I shall not travel. It must happen here, in Old Sharlayan.”

G’raha nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, my star. Whatever you wish. I assume Sidurgu already knows?”

“Aye. I told him the other week.”

If G’raha was hurt to know that Sidurgu learned first, he did not show it. He just clapped his hands together. “Very well, I shall consult with him. Worry not, it shall be the best birthday you could ever imagine.”

Kiah’a sighed. “Tis my first party. There is hardly a high bar for you to meet.”

G’raha stepped close and put his hands on Kiah’a’s shoulders. He waited until Kiah’a was looking at him. “You deserve the best,” he said.

“Stop being so dramatic,” Kiah’a insisted, though he was touched by how serious G’raha was acting. He tilted his chin up so he could kiss G’raha. “Now, I must away to lectures. Pray do not worry overmuch, not for this.”

G’raha made a show of tracing an X over his heart. “I swear it.”

Somehow, a month later, Kiah’a woke up and did not dread the day. He had insisted that he wanted to know nothing about G’raha’s plans except for the guest list, which had not needed any revisions. G’raha knew that Kiah’a had an awkward relationship with the city state leaders and considered most people close allies at best. But he also knew who Kiah’a was close to and would not mind at his first ever birthday party.

They left Kiah’a’s quarters in the Annex as the sun was setting, G’raha on his left and Sidurgu on his right. All three were changed out of their normal armor, though Kiah’a still had his tome. The party was being held in the main room, the students happy to clear out for official Scion business. Kiah’a could hear music and talking from down the hall and his footsteps slowed until he found himself standing in front of the door.

A moment passed as he prepared himself. Sidurgu placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Alright,” Kiah’a finally said. “Let’s do this.” He opened the doors and blinked as the light and sound hit him all at once.

Arenvald was talking with Alphinaud, each with a drink in hand. Thancred and Urianger were listening to Tataru talk about her growing fashion empire. Lyse and Y’shtola were catching up. Krile had Estinien backed into a corner — they were probably having a normal conversation, but Kiah’a could tell from the way Estinien twitched that he was trying to find a way to escape. Rielle and Alisaie were laughing at his doom, not bothering to hide the way they observed him like he was a prized chocobo.

“Kiah’a!” Thancred shouted, the first to react. He grinned ear to ear. “Happy birthday, my good man.”

A chorus of congratulations and greetings rang out. Kiah’a felt the warmth radiating from his friend — his friends , people he cared about and who cared about him back. They trusted him with their lives. Some of them had literally died, placing so much faith in him that he would make it worth their sacrifice. It was almost overwhelming — Kiah’a could feel the familiar instinct to run away and hide before he let his emotions sweep him away.

But Sidurgu’s hand was still a comforting weight against his shoulder. G’raha reached out to squeeze his hand. They were standing by him as they had through so much, stalwart in their support.

All the Scions had. Kiah’a had spent so long alone, and now he knew he never would be.

So instead of running, Kiah’a began to cry.

“Twelve — what is amiss?” G’raha immediately stepped between Kiah’a and the others. Sidurgu let go of his shoulder, not wanting to overstimulate him.

“Nothing,” Kiah’a insisted, rubbing his face. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him and it just made him cry harder. “Nothing is wrong! I am totally, completely fine .”

“Do you wish to remain or leave?” Sidurgu asked, voice low. Kiah’a shook his head, but didn’t reply.

He spent his waking hours reading and studying and listening to the wisest minds in Sharlayan discuss everything from philosophy to history to magic theory, yet he still could not think of how to explain how he felt. The ground was solid under his feet and the sound of his favorite orchestration soothed him, but he couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

His eyes burned. Usually this was a sign that he was remembering something from his past. It was a novel experience to have the sensation occur when he was happier than he had ever been before.

“Please, speak with us. You need only tell us what we must do, and it will be done,” G’raha promised.

Kiah’a took a deep breath. His eyes were still watery but he managed to meet G’raha’s concerned gaze. “Nothing, Raha. There is nothing you need to do.” He pulled G’raha into a hug. “This is perfect.”

“Oh! Fullglad am I to hear that.” G’raha squeezed him tight, though he let go before Kiah’a could become restless. “I ordered your favorite cake from The Last Stand and we have a dozen bottles of ale from The Forgotten Knight.”

“It could strip paint from a manacutter,” Thancred cheerfully chimed in. Urianger sighed.

Sidurgu shifted side to side. “What do you need, Kiah’a?” He asked.

Kiah’a wiped at his face again. He wasn’t sniffing anymore and there was a grand total of zero tears making their way down his cheeks. “Nothing. Go socialize. I need to greet everyone.” He could tell that G’raha and Sidurgu weren’t entirely convinced, but they didn’t stop him as he started to make a round through the room.

“I also cry sometimes when I see Estinien’s face,” Alisaie reassured him. Rielle giggled.

“I can hear you,” Estinien called, though the smile on his face betrayed that there wasn’t a lick of annoyance. “Good nameday to you, Kiah’a. All this needs is the threat of dragonfire and it could be a celebration in an Ishgardian barracks.”

G’raha raised an eyebrow. Estinien offered a smile.

“Tis a compliment, I assure you. There is no offense to your party planning skills, G’raha.” Estinien raised his glass. “A toast to this year, and for many more.”

“Yes! I’m so happy you decided to celebrate,” Krile agreed.

Lyse and Y’shtola also offered their gratitude. Lyse had never been to Sharlyan and Kiah’a promised to show her around before she left.

“It has been too long since we got to travel together,” Lyse complained. “I know that Ala Mhigo needs me, but sometimes I miss it, you know?”

Kiah’a nodded. He liked the idea of settling down and never having to leave again, but he knew that would never happen. “Next time I need something punched, you’re invited.”

“Excellent!”

“How are your studies progressing?” Y’shtola asked. Kiah’a let out a long exhale. There must have been a look on his face because she laughed softly. “Never mind my question — tonight is for cheer and celebration, not for papers that refuse to write themselves.”

“He is doing excellent,” G’raha assured her.

“I almost set a book on fire yesterday,” Kiah’a confessed.

“Only one?” Sidurgu questioned.

“It was a very big one,” Kiah’a clarified.

Thancred was the only one drinking between him, Urianger, and Tataru. Kiah’a decided that was for the best. Tataru drunk was prone to plotting and Urianger became more verbose the more alcohol was in his system.

“You know, this reminds me of the swill you get in Limsa. Just missing the scent of the sea,” Thancred commented. He toasted Kiah’a. “To another year! Preferably with less near-death experiences, if it’s all the same to you.”

“I have no intention of almost dying again,” Kiah’a assured him. “Try to return the favor, perhaps.”

Thancred saluted even as Urianger promised that the stars showed no sign of doom on the horizon.

“Whatever we shall face, we shall be victorious,” he promised.

“And you will be able to rely on us whenever you need an ally — or a friend,” Thancred added. Tataru nodded vigorously.

As he stepped over to Arenvald and Alphinaud, Kiah’a realized they were drinking punch. He would not have blamed them if they had been partaking in alcohol, but considering the low quality of the stuff he wasn’t surprised they decided to abstain. Arenvald smiled up at him, a blanket over his lap and carefully folded so it would not get tangled in the wheels of his chair.

“I did not realize your nameday was today. I have missed many occasions to celebrate with you,” Arenvald said. Kiah’a shook his head.

“Pray, think of it not. I’m glad you were able to make the trip,” he replied.

“It was a long boat ride, but Lyse made good company — and the vessel was faster than normal, if you ask me,” Arenvald shrugged and looked slightly confused before his smile returned. “Look at us, though. A Miqo’te from the Shroud and a half-breed from Ala Mhigo in the most secretive nation on the star. Who could have guessed?”

“You undervalue yourselves,” Alphinaud scoffed. “The Warrior of Light and his trusted friend — of course you are welcomed here.”

Arenvald and Kiah’a shared a look. Alphinaud was saved from his own statement by G’raha clearing his throat.

“Well, we have greeted everyone — would you like to wait, or shall we cut into the cake now?”

“Now is fine,” Kiah’a said. “Though, if we should do other things first, then you must inform me. I have never been on this side of the celebration.”

G’raha shook his head. “No, tis fine to cut the cake. And you must make a wish on the candles!”

Before Kiah’a could ask for clarification, he found himself on one side of a table. The cake was laid in front of him. It was a large rectangle with Happy nameday, Kiah’a! written on it in gold frosting. There was a single, big candle which was a relief. Kiah’a didn’t know how old he was and he would have been mortified if G’raha had tried guessing.

His friends were on the other side and he waited for them to finish singing before taking a deep breath and, with a single puff, blowing the candle out. A cheer went up. Y’shtola made sparks fly from her fingers — harmless red and gold flashes. His face started to hurt and he realized that he was smiling wider than he ever had before.

“Thank you,” he said to everyone, and he meant it. He looked down at the cake, then at the stack of plates. He began to summon up aether — if he was careful, he could probably manage this without dropping everything or breaking every plate.

“Let me help,” Sidurgu and G’raha said at the same time, both of them reaching for the knife. After a bit of negotiation, Sidurgu was successfully able to take the spot of cake cutter. Kiah’a insisted on handing out the cake, and the first slice he got he handed to Tataru.

“Er, I appreciate it but you know that you’re supposed to have the first one,” she said nervously. Kiah’a shrugged.

“I have never been much for tradition. Besides, as I recall I owe you a slice.” He tried to say it as casually as he could, as if this was not something that had been weighing on him since G’raha promised to throw a party.

Tataru blinked, then realized what he meant. She started to tear up. Her cake was left on the table as she broke into sobs, Krile patting her back in solidarity.

Once the cake was handed out, Kiah’a retreated to a corner with Sidurgu and G’raha. The two understood he wanted less social interaction and did not push him. The couch was more than enough space for them, but Kiah’a was feeling comfortable enough to lean against Sidurgu. He threw his legs over G’raha, half-pinning him to the couch. G’raha didn’t seem to mind.

Sidurgu finished his cake first and took G’raha and Kiah’a’s dishes when they eventually cleaned their plates. The three of them sat in content silence, watching their friends mingle. As much as it was a party for Kiah’a, everyone was happy to spend time with one another. It was a novel thing to do when the world was not ending. There wasn’t even any large-scale war.

It was nice.

“This is exhausting,” Kiah’a muttered all the same. Sidurgu nodded in agreement. G’raha’s tail flicked side to side. Before he could voice his worry, Kiah’a continued, “I am happy. You did more than I could have ever imagined. I do not know what I have done to deserve you. Either of you.”

“Flatterer,” Sidurgu teased, a twinkle in his eyes. G’raha blushed almost as red as his hair.

“Truly, you say such a thing when you are — are the literal Warrior of Light!”

“And you ruled a city at the end of the world, and Sidurgu has devoted his life to protecting people in Ishgard. I could sit in no better company.” Kiah’a rested his head on Sidurgu’s shoulder. Sidurgu shifted so that he could put a hand on Kiah’a’s thigh, instead of having it pinned between them. A moment passed.

“Do you know why I picked this day?” Kiah’a asked.

“No?” G’raha perked up. His ears stood up at attention. Sidurgu rubbed his thumb along the seam on Kiah’a’s pants.

“Tis the first day I did not need assistance reading,” Kiah’a confessed, the words so soft that he almost did not say them. “I know, it took me too long, but—”

“No, you learned as soon as you could,” Sidurgu interrupted. He took a deep breath. “Thank you for telling us.”

G’raha nodded. “Yes, thank you. We shall keep your secret.”

“I know. I trust you both.” Kiah’a smiled, nestling further back against Sidurgu and the couch. G’raha was warm underneath his legs. “You know, I think we should do this again next year.”