Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

So. I just finished watching my favorite YouTuber finish his first Final Fantasy 16 playthrough. I didn't have a PS5, and the game hasn't been released for PC yet, and I definitely didn't want to wait until then. So as usual, I decided to live vicariously by watching someone else play it.

My stomach rumbled, and no wonder. I just binged for ten hours straight. I need food, stat. Off to the convenience store, then. I ran out of instant noodles yesterday. I wonder if they've restocked the sweet and spicy —

Bright, blinding light. An incredibly loud honk. Alarmed shouts. It'll take me years in my next life to realize that Truck-kun isekai'd me into Valisthea.

Give me a break. A baby's brain literally isn't capable of higher forms of thinking, okay?

Anyway. Hi. Hello. My name is Ana. I turned five today, and I think my brain finally leveled up enough for me to realize what world I was reborn in. I stared at my new face in the mirror. A bit plump with baby fat for now, but I can already see the delicate bone structure I'll eventually grow into. And I'm naturally pale blonde, instead of jet black like before.

I looked at the rest of the face — my face, and looked away. My brain cannot compute.

I looked down at my shaking hands. Small, and pale. White, instead of light brown like I'm used to. I ran back to bed and curled up under the sheets.

Everything is fine. I didn't just get reincarnated as Anabella Rosfield. Of course, I'm not a Rosfield yet. Because I'm only five years old. I'm not married to Elwin yet. Not yet the winner of the "shittiest mother of the year" award for 2023.

Oh god. They use a different calendar here, right? And I shouldn't swear to god, because the ultimate creeper might actually listen. Fuck. And wasn't there another god that people swear by? Greagor? I don't know, I didn't pay that much attention to the lore!

The future is bleak. Color is literally being leeched away as the blight spreads, right? And the original Anabella actively sought to make people miserable. She ordered purges.

I was just a normal 30-year old woman.

I have a legacy of cruelty to look forward to. Can it even be called a legacy if it hasn't happened yet? I can't even kick a doggo, much less condemn my future son to thirteen years of slavery!

Also, I wanted to be a guy in my next life, so I didn't have to deal with monthly periods. And breasts. Ugh. Ten years until puberty. I'm sure they don't even have tampons here in magical fantasy land.

Am I allowed to deviate from the script? What can I, as a little girl, even accomplish? Sure, I was born into a noble family with close ties to the duchy, but let's be real. No one will listen to a little girl. Slavery can't be abolished single-handedly by a puny little chick like me. Ha. Pun intended. A bird pun. In the land of the Phoenix.

Whatever I do, it won't be enough.

I take a deep breath.

Fine. I can't control how anyone else acts. But I can control myself. The world I lived in was far from perfect, but not as bad as this one. At least that world no longer had actual slaves.

I opened my eyes, and I decided to be kind.

-x-

Life as a girl born in a noble family is just... very not pog. It feels wrong, complaining about my high status, but. Sorry not sorry, I like being a commoner in the year of our Lord 2023 way, way better. Also, I don't know how I'm surviving without the Internet. Apparently it's possible, but very excruciating. Mind-numbingly boring.

A line of a song plays in my head: Sweep again, and by then, it's like 7:15! I can read a book, maybe two or three? Add a few new paintings to my gallery. I'll play guitar and knit and cook and basically, just wonder...

When will my life begin?

"You have a lovely voice, my lady," someone behind me says. I squeaked and spun around, clutching my broom handle slash impromptu mic tightly. My face was on fire. My ears were on fire. Metaphorically. Coz I wasn't born with magic.

"Uh. You're welcome. Wait. No. I mean. Thank you, my lord," I stammered out somehow, and seeing as whoever is in front of me is wearing some fancy clothes, I decided to add the 'my lord' bit at the end. Just to be safe and polite and all. I should probably know who this guy is. And why he's in my room. Rooms. Suite? Wing? Honestly, I'm sure I was tutored about what the proper terms are, but it's too early in the morning, and my brain just got scrambled by... This guy. Black hair. Fancy clothes. Could be anyone. Could be Eugene Fitzherbert. Or Flynn Ryder, whatever. Kinda has the same hairstyle?

"So you like reading and painting?" He asks. "As well as playing guitar, knitting, and cooking. Quite the list of achievements."

I blink and decide to go with the flow. "Yes to reading, painting, and knitting. I can't play guitar, but piano doesn't fit the melody. And technically I can cook rice and fry sausages and eggs. My lord."

"And singing, too," he added. "I'm honored to have heard a sweet song such as that from a lovely songbird."

It has been sixteen years since I was born in this world, and still, still, my first reaction was to cringe from those flowery words. The thing is, he's so sincere. What the fuck. Who told him he could look that way? That should be illegal.

"Uh. Thank you?" I replied, cursing internally when it came out as a question.

"You don't believe me?" He asks, looking disappointed. A bit droopier. His shoulders definitely dropped a few centimeters.

"Oh, that's not what I. Uh. I believe you, my lord. You're so sincere that I, uh," I'm beauty, I'm grace, I'm red in the face, and running out of words, and why is he stepping closer???? Should I be alarmed about that? "Uh. Calling me a songbird is a bit much."

"What should I call you, then, if not a songbird?"

Did his voice get lower all of a sudden? Is he smiling? Why is my heartbeat so loud?

"...I'm Ana," I managed to answer somehow.

He lifts my hand and kisses it. He opens his mouth and says something, possibly another flowery rendition of 'Nice to meet you'. But my brain has crashed. No thoughts. Head empty.

I reboot my brain just in time to hear him finish talking.

"—Elwin."

"Elwin," I repeated with growing dread. As in Elwin Rosfield, the one and only Duke of Rosaria?

Elwin smiles, warmer and brighter than the sun, and one-shots my heart.

Chapter Text

The council started bleating about marriage and heirs the day Elwin turned 19. Or at least, that's when he started paying attention.

He's been betrothed to someone for a long time. Possibly since his future wife was born. Another thing he can't ask his father anymore.

But, he knows her name, at least. A good starting point. Anabella. He knows she's a cousin, though distant or close, he knows not. There were always more interesting things to think about than his lineage, like the ever expanding blight and the monsters that came with it.

He goes to his brother, who is predictably sharpening his axe.

"Byron, what do you know of my betrothed, Anabella?"

Byron smirks as he sets down both his axe and his sharpening stone. "Finally thinking of expanding the royal line, brother? If I didn't know better, I would have said that your brain was filled with nothing but the blight. This is a pleasant surprise!"

Elwin sighs. "So, do you know her or not?"

"Aye, but you can't fault me for a bit of teasing. I've never seen you set your gaze on any lass or lady before this," Byron replies as he approaches.

Elwin furrows his brows. "What would be the point? It was already decided that I was to marry someone else, after all."

Byron slings an arm over his shoulder, chuckling. "Aye, but it's not illegal to smell the flowers or spend time with a few birds before then!"

Elwin crosses his arms across his chest. "Shall I just ask someone else? It seems you have no good information about her."

Byron clutches him tighter. "Don't be that way, brother! Come, let's have a drink while we talk about your bird," he says, all but dragging Elwin where he wanted. Elwin was no pushover as a swordsman, but Byron was stockier, and possessed more raw strength in general. Swinging a giant axe one-handed made sure of that.

And of course, he only started talking about Anabella after he finished his first glass of wine, and undoubtedly many more to go. Elwin sipped his drink, unwilling to lose his inhibitions while on what was essentially an intelligence gathering mission.

"So, your dear Anabella. She's—"

"Please focus on her character traits, as that is more important to me," Elwin cuts him off, hoping to avoid any of Byron's more vulgar descriptions.

"—considered an eccentric, but not bad-looking, all things considered," Byron decides to say, after visibly recalibrating his line of thought. "Really? We're not talking about how she looks? But that's the whole point!"

"It is not," Elwin refutes.

Byron claps a hand on the table between them. "Of course it is!"

Elwin exhales, trying to reign in his temper. Past shouting matches of childish voices echo in his head. "I want to know if she can help me rule Rosaria, Byron. I could care less about how she looks."

"Any other bird would slap you for those words, brother," Byron snorts. "But perhaps not this one."

That catches Elwin's attention. "Oh? Tell me more."

"She doesn't really mingle with the other noble ladies, and as far as I know, has no close friends in our circles. But she's not a total hermit, and she does go out sometimes, to buy food, books, and yarn, of all things."

Elwin sips his wine in disappointment. "Is that all you know? That doesn't seem very much at all."

Byron empties his glass and pours another. "It's what she does and how she acts when she goes out that makes her eccentric, you see."

"Alright, I'll bite," Elwin concedes. "What exactly does she do when she goes out?"

"Why, she's exceptionally kind to everyone, is all. Including every mongrel and Bearer she meets on the road," Byron says with a flourish of his wine glass. Elwin startles at his words.

"Of course, it could be an act," Byron continues. "After all, if the locals love her and only have good things to say, that would make her more desirable for you, would it not?"

"Is that what you think?" Elwin asks, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Oh, chin up, brother. I didn't mean to make you all sad. How hard can it be to pretend all your life that you think of Bearers as people, and treat them accordingly? This wasn't a recent, or inexplicable change. Not everyone in town knows her, but those that do, they say she asks Bearers for their names and remembers them. Gives them warm clothes she knits herself. Asks about their families, if they have any. And has been doing it for as long as they can remember, from when she was a child," Byron finishes. "All that, as an act? I think not."

What could Elwin say to that?

Byron raises his glass with a wide, cheeky smile. "I bet you'll have a grand old time making babies together. Cheers!"

Elwin groans and drops his flaming face to his palm.

-x-

Of course, after talking with Byron, he has to meet her. He has to know, has to see the real thing, with his own two eyes.

Her family happily obliges with his request, and after a week of travel, he goes to see her in the early morning. As he approaches her door, he hears a voice, singing an unfamiliar but happy melody.

He opens the door without knocking, knowing he's being rude, but he's curious.

What greets his eyes is a vision. A fair-haired maiden, passionately singing to a broom handle. She's wearing an oversized hooded tunic of a beautiful bright blue, and strange pants made of cotton that doesn't leave much to the imagination as the fabric clings to her lower body.

The lyrics of the song register a moment later. She sings of sweeping, reading, painting, playing guitar, knitting, and cooking. In the last line, she wonders when her life will begin, as if it hasn't already. A hope for something new, something better.

Elwin is enchanted. He forgets his slight irritation at not being welcomed by his betrothed at the gates entirely. Perhaps her family didn't inform her of his coming.

"You have a lovely voice, my lady," Elwin says, unable to wait any longer to greet her. She squeaks and turns, startled, clutching her broom to her chest. Elwin pushes down the urge to correct her stance so she can use the broom as a defence in lieu of a sword.

Her red face is very lovely, and her ears are adorably red as well. He has to concede this point to Byron. She is indeed not bad-looking. Nay, she's possibly the prettiest lady he's ever looked at.

"Uh. You're welcome. Wait. No. I mean. Thank you, my lord," she stammers, much to his amusement.

He clearly flustered her, so he decides to move the conversation along. "So you like reading and painting? As well as playing guitar, knitting, and cooking. Quite the list of achievements."

She blinks. "Yes to the reading, painting, and knitting. I can't play guitar, but piano doesn't fit the melody. And technically I can cook rice and fry sausages and eggs. My lord."

Blunt, straightforward, and honest. The ability to cook is curious, as is the mention of piano. The possibility of just acting kind instead of being actually kind grows smaller every second.

"And singing, too," Elwin can't help but add. "I'm honored to have heard a sweet song such as that from a lovely songbird."

She all but flinches away, shoulders hunching up. It reminds him of a turtle retreating into its shell. "Uh. Thank you?"

A word of thanks, as a question. What was questionable with what he said? He can feel his own shoulders drop an inch. "You don't believe me?"

She backtracks rapidly. "Oh, that's not what I. Uh. I believe you, my lord. You're so sincere that I, uh."

She appears to be losing a battle with her words as a blush spreads across her face and ears, and goes down her neck. He steps closer, charmed. Mesmerized. "Uh. Calling me a songbird is a bit much," she continues softly, almost as if talking to herself.

He wants her attention back on him, wants her eyes on him. "What should I call you, then, if not songbird?"

Oh, Founder. It feels like all the teenage hormones he'd set aside as unnecessary are coming back with a vengeance. He wants to touch her face, to feel for himself if her skin feels as soft as it looks, wants to see how far down her blush goes. Wants to see what she looks like without the hooded tunic. He wants so much with a sudden, surprising ferocity.

"... I'm Ana," she answers shyly, unable to meet his gaze. That won't do. He grasps her hand and kisses the back of it.

"Thank the Phoenix for letting me meet you on this blessed day, Ana," he murmurs to her skin, his lips lingering, committing the taste and feel to memory. "Please call me Elwin."

She inhales loudly, as if she'd forgotten how to breathe. "Elwin," she repeats, eyes back on him.

His name sounds lovely from her lips. It sounds just right, and it warms him inside, akin to sitting by the fire on cold nights. It feels like his own personal blessing from the Phoenix, a warmth that he's never felt before.

He smiles at her widely, beams with the intensity of the sun as he's never done in his life. His cheeks ache with it, and no wonder. He can't remember the last time he smiled. He's unpracticed. But it's only been a few minutes in her presence, and his life has already changed.

Chapter Text

He brings me flowers, a couple of months later. Roses, of course.

"Thank you. Though I have nothing to give you in return..." I trail off, thinking hard.

"Ah, my dear Ana, I do not expect any gifts in return," Elwin insists.

But I am a maker of things, and proud of it. What do you get someone who likely already has everything? The classic dilemma. The answer, of course, is something custom made. Something only I can make.

I stare at his shoulders. We're currently in the garden, and I'm actually dressed for visitors this time and wearing an honest-to-goodness dress. And that means I don't have a way to measure his body's proportions, because all my tools are in my rooms. Hmm.

"Ana? Really, it is no bother," Elwin says, coaxing my hand from where it had gravitated to my face in the classic thinking pose. My hands look small compared to his. Softer, more fragile. And, they're my hands now. I've mostly gotten over the body dysphoria from my childhood.

Ah, that would work. Not exactly pinpoint accurate, but I'm aiming for a unique, comfy hoodie, maybe with an intarsia phoenix silhouette as a focus. I'd once knitted the Fairy Tail symbol as a laptop pouch in my previous life, and that could be modified. I don't remember the exact pattern, but all I need to do is draw it out. Easy enough. Something to wear to bed on cold nights. Not something tailored to stick to him like a second skin. I'm sure he has lots of tailored clothes. I extract my hand from his, and start measuring his shoulders, his arm length, his chest—

Elwin clutches my hands in both of his own. "A-Ana."

"Hmm?" I finally look up. Oh. "You look oddly flush—"

I shut my mouth with a clack of my teeth. If I'm lucky, I might be reborn as a tomato in my next life, with how much I'm blushing in the presence of this man.

"Um. I. I was just. Measuring?" I squeaked. By the Flames, I just spent the last few minutes being handsy. Is that a punishable crime in this world? If Ifrit could kindly open up a gate to hell right now where I'm standing, that would be great.

Elwin breathes out slowly. I take the chance to copy him and calm down.

He clears his throat. "Right. Measuring for what, may I ask?"

I perk up. Knitting, one of my true loves of life. I'll never tire of talking about it. "I was thinking of making you a hoodie. Like the one I was wearing when we met, do you remember? I have the softest white yarn that's perfect for this, and I'll put a red phoenix in the chest—"

Mister?! You're way too close?! My lungs stopped working?! I think my brain stopped sending signals?! Help?!

"You're so lovely, like this," Elwin declares, like it's a fact of life. The sun rises from the east, the Phoenix belongs to Rosaria, Anabella is lovely like this.

One of these things is not like the other.

My brain is scrambled and dribbling out of my ears. My face is surely melting.

"You don't have to. Uh. Romance me. Um. I'm already a sure bet. Yours," I mumbled, unable to meet his eyes.

He pressed a kiss each to the back of my hands. "I like the sound of you being mine. And in return, I shall be yours as well."

I might spontaneously combust. This man is trying to kill me.

But then, he frowns. Just a slight downturn of his lips, and I'm already plotting how to get his smile back. "But whyever would that mean that I should stop expressing my feelings for you?"

"You're not... obligated to do so," I offered meekly. Whatever happened to toxic masculinity and men being dumb about feelings?

"You think I'm doing it out of obligation?" He asks incredulously. I flinch away, now extremely conscious of how close we were.

"Sorry," I croak out through the sudden lump in my throat. Unseen ants crawl all over my skin, giving me goosebumps. I chewed my lower lip. "I misspoke. Forgive me."

"Ana. There's nothing to forgive. I'm not angry. Please, you look like you're going to bolt if I breathe wrong," Elwin coaxes, looking up at me from where he's crouching, trying to meet my eyes where I'd been looking at the ground. When did he get there?

"...Okay. If you say so," I replied quietly, still unable to meet his eyes, but I can't really ignore his presence when he's right there.

"The hooded tunic you were planning on making for me, is that because of an obligation as well?" He asks softly.

Oh, that hurts. Knitted clothes aren't made in a day. There are no convenient knitting machines here, and I wouldn't want to use them even then. It's a labor of love that I'll gladly undertake!

I shake my head firmly, afraid of what will come out of my mouth if I open it now.

"Then, I think you'll understand. It's the same when I said those words, you see? Showing affection and care. I can't knit you a tunic, but I can show my appreciation with words," Elwin explains.

"Oh," I breathe out and relax out of my instinctive defensive hunch. "That makes sense."

Elwin stands, and gently nudges my chin. "Chin up, my dear. Everything is fine."

I nod, feeling light and relieved. "Yes. Thank you, Elwin."

He beams. Oh, great Phoenix. That smile will kill me someday. Shoujo sparkles in the background and all.

.... That's not supposed to happen in real life, is it? I'm clearly losing brain cells.

-x-

"Elwin!" I shout excitedly when he next visits. This man should probably stop wasting his time going to my house, but it's his life. His decision.

Anyway, today, I'll see him wear my hoodie! Ahhhhh, a fictional character in modern clothes! Basically fanart! Oh, and I can paint him from memory later, too. I can make actual fanart. Wow. This day just keeps getting better and better.

"My day is perfect, now that I've seen your smile, Ana," he says as he gets within hearing distance.

Shameless! Absolutely shameless! Who let this man walk out of his castle like this? Did nobody teach him about PDA? We're in the middle of the street!

Okay, we're at the gates of my home, but it still counts!

Wait a minute. I just realized he's wearing Clive's iconic getup.

"...Same to you?" I reply in a daze. Elwin looks amused as I lead him inside.

"You seemed to be excited about something earlier," he prods.

"Yes! I nearly forgot," I replied, then muttered, "Your perfect face distracted me."

Elwin chuckled. Holy flaming chicken. I will not survive this man. But what a way to go.

I cleared my throat. "Anyway. Elwin! Take off your clothes!" I demanded.

Wait. What did I just say?! Hello?!

"W-wait, that's not what I meant!" I protested loudly, even though nobody has said anything, rightly feeling the burning gazes of everyone in the estate within hearing distance.

I unfolded the hoodie in my arms, hiding my blushing face behind it. "I meant this! I finished it! Try it on!"

Large hands gently caressed mine, prompting me to let go as he gathers the hoodie to himself. He pats my head. "Then that's what I shall do. Is there anywhere I could change?"

"Yes, there's a guest room..."

I'm not sure I gave him any understandable directions. Sorry, I was too busy being damaged over time by his softest, warmest smile. My HP is dwindling to red. Send help.

He comes back sooner than I thought. Or maybe it just took me that long to reboot my brain.

It fits okay, but... "It looks more like a red chocobo," I pout. This hoodie has betrayed me. It shall face my wrath. "Please take it off. I shall unmake it post-haste."

"What? No, I like it. It's really comfortable," Elwin refutes, tucking his hands into the front pouch. He looks... normal. Someone from modern day. Actually, his black leather pants are a thing of perfection under the hoodie, too, without the armor bits. I mean. He already looked good in them before. But something about him feels more ... down-to-earth now. More attainable for a commoner like the old me.

"Ana, I really like it. Thank you," he repeats.

"You're welcome," I replied, grudgingly accepting that he won't give the hoodie back. "I'll just have to make a new one. With an actual phoenix on it next time."

Elwin lights up even more. "I look forward to it!"

Chapter Text

"So...." Byron drawls expectantly after dinner.

"So what?" Elwin replied, willing to indulge his brother's whims after two glasses of wine. The times when they dine together are getting rarer, what with Byron travelling all over Rosaria and Elwin's neverending duties. He misses his brother, the only direct family he has left.

"It's been months, brother. So, when am I to meet your Anabella? Is it to be on your wedding day? Or might I get special treatment and meet her early?"

They hear a snort by the door before Elwin can respond.

"Something funny, Lord Commander? Mind sharing?" Elwin asks, knowing he's somehow about to be teased but allowing it anyway. There's no one else around, and Rodney is his best friend.

Rodney casually moves to their line of sight and leans on the doorway. "I don't think Lady Anabella notices anyone else when His Grace is in the vicinity. Trust me, I've been there each time they've met, and she hasn't so much as glanced in my direction."

Byron guffaws.

Elwin resists the urge to rub his temples. "Rodney, I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it."

Rodney smirks. "Of course, Your Grace. I don't doubt that at all."

"It's going very well indeed between the two, hm, Rodney?" Byron chuckles.

Rodney eyes Elwin, who's raising his glass to his mouth. "Certainly. If Lady Anabella asking His Grace to take off his clothes in broad daylight is any indication..."

Elwin snorts his wine through his nose and starts coughing. Byron busts his gut laughing at his brother for the next few minutes.

"You've been holding out on me, brother!" Byron says when he finally gets his breath back.

"She merely wanted me to try on the hooded tunic she made," Elwin protests weakly.

"Of course, of course," Byron agrees magnanimously. "The same hooded tunic with the red chocobo on it, aye? I've seen you wear it. So that's where it came from."

"It's supposed to be a phoenix," Elwin protests.

"Could've fooled me," Bryon mutters. "But don't think I'm letting this go, brother. I want to meet her sometime soon."

Elwin rolls his eyes. "Alright, alright."

It takes another month, but eventually, Byron does get his wish.

-x-

"Ana, I'd like you to meet my brother, Byron," Elwin said, gesturing to said brother beside him.

Ana curtsied and smiled happily. "It's an honor to meet you, Lord Byron!"

Elwin's eye twitched. He's probably imagining Ana's excess enthusiasm. Surely.

"The pleasure is mine, my lady," Byron replies, bowing shallowly. "In truth, I requested this meeting, and my kind older brother acquiesced. You are to be my sister, after all, so I was curious."

"Oh!" Ana blinked, appearing very surprised. "I hadn't thought about that."

"What do you mean?" Byron asked, glancing at Elwin. Elwin didn't know either.

"That you'd think of me as family," Ana explains, beaming. "Thank you, Lord Byron. I look forward to being your sister-in-law. I'm sure my children will be lucky to have you as an uncle too!"

Elwin covers his mouth with his hand, trying to smother his undignified sputtering and his red face. Rodney pats his shoulder in commiseration.

Ah, that reminds him. He takes a moment to gather himself before getting Ana's attention. "Ana, I also wanted to introduce you to my Lord Commander, Sir Rodney Murdoch."

Rodney bows. "It's my honor to meet you, my lady."

"Lord... Commander... Wait! Sir Rodney?! Since when were you— have you been here the whole time?! Oh Flames, I'm so sorry!" Ana stammered and bowed back guiltily.

"No harm done, my lady. It's my duty to be here as a guard, so it's natural for me to keep my presence less noticeable," Rodney explained. Ana looked relieved.

-x-

Elwin supposes he should be happy that Byron and Ana immediately get along after their initial introduction, but it's been a quarter hour. The conversation has gotten away from him, and shows no sign of coming back around.

Byron, it appears, knows a lot about Ana's preferred yarns, books, and paints, by virtue of being a merchant. Ana is so very interested in getting supplies.

He tries to resist the urge to sigh or show any sign of impatience or jealousy.

Naturally, Byron notices and smirks. "Lady Ana, I wanted to ask about a certain hooded tunic with a red chocobo on it..."

Ana pouts. "Is he still wearing that thing? I did finish the replacement hoodie, but..."

"Oh? I'll be glad to see it, my lady," Elwin prompts.

"It didn't come out like I wanted this time, too," Ana frowns. "That's why I didn't mention it earlier."

"I'd love to have it regardless," Elwin assured her.

"I guess. It's in my rooms," Ana says, and leads the way. They follow her like a line of chocobo chicks: Elwin, then Byron, then a bit farther back, Rodney.

Elwin takes the time to look around while Ana fetches the hooded tunic, cataloguing differences from last time. There's a new easel with a huge painting covered in cloth, and a stack of paper covered with charcoal drawings in a small table beside it. There's a mess of oil paint cans and brushes on another table next to that.

Ana comes back before he can investigate them, and hands him a folded garment.

He goes to where Ana indicated the bathroom to be, and finally inspects what he's holding.

It's similar to his first hooded tunic, but done in black yarn instead of white, and in the front...

Ah. Elwin can't help but be endeared.

He comes out of the bathroom to show the others. Predictably, Byron starts laughing first. In the corner of his eye, he can see Rodney's shoulders twitching as he holds in his laughter.

Ana pouts, and Elwin wants to kiss it off her lips. He goes to her, and refrains from doing so. Byron's right there, after all.

"I love it, Ana," he insists.

"W-why," Byron says between snorting laughter, "does it h-have three-he-he h-heads?"

"Those are supposed to be flames," Ana sulks. "But it turned out more like a three-headed dragon than a phoenix."

"I shall cherish it forever, Ana," Elwin promises. He decides to change the subject. "I couldn't help but notice. You've been painting? And drawing?"

Ana turns crimson and whirls to face her covered painting. "Um."

"I won't look if you don't want me to," Elwin says, gently taking her hand.

Ana squeezes his fingers with a suddenly sweaty, cold hand, before letting go. "No, go on."

He takes her word for it. It feels like it takes forever, but truthfully, it only takes a few steps to reach the painting. He uncovers it swiftly.

He can't help but step back, daunted, feeling as if the floor had been taken out under him. Byron places a supporting hand on his back as he ostensibly steps closer to take a look. Byron is speechless, jaw hanging open in awe, and so is he.

The background is a bleak, dreary sky. On the left, sprawling on a rock, is Elwin, in his signature armor set. On the right side is the Phoenix, in its bright, fiery, magnificent glory.

His hand is stretched out to touch the Phoenix's beak, his expression determined and serious. By the Flames! Everything looks incredibly realistic! If he didn't know exactly how swamped with work he'd been for the past few months, he would've sworn Ana had a live model.

"Ana, this is..." He turns to face her. "Breathtaking."

"No, you're breathtaking," Ana exclaims, pointing her finger at him. Then she blinks, and curls up on her knees on the floor, covering her face with her hands. Her muffled voice could still be heard. "I can't believe I just said that. Oh, Phoenix..."

He kneels before her, trying to tug her hands away from her face. "Ana, you don't need to hide. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Please, my dear?"

Ana peeks from between a gap in her fingers. "Your face is embarrassing," she says petulantly.

He grins, unfazed. "Your painting is amazing, Ana. How long did it take you? It must've been difficult."

Ana hugs her knees. "How long has it been since you last came?"

"You started painting it then? It's been nearly half a year," Elwin notes.

"Even a noob like me can produce decent fanart if they work on it daily for that long," Ana says, then mutters, "I'm so glad I decided to add clothes."

Elwin decides to disregard parts of her statement for his own sanity. "Thank you for thinking of me daily, Ana. I promise you, I thought of you as often as I could, as well."

She squints suspiciously at him. "With or without clothes?"

Elwin coughs. "I'm sorry I couldn't come back earlier."

Ana shrugs and looks away. "I wouldn't have shown it to you if it wasn't finished, so that's alright."

"... What's wrong?" He takes her hands, and this time, she lets him.

"Nothing. I was just. Lonely. I missed you," Ana hesitantly admits, chewing her lower lip.

Elwin inhales. He reaches out, cupping her blushing cheek. "And I, you."

"There's an easy solution to that, yeah?" Byron's voice startles the two of them, and they jump apart. "That little ceremony called marriage? Preferably before Lady Ana expires from loneliness?"

Elwin feels all the blood draining from his face. Byron doesn't stop talking. In fact, he decides to join Ana on the floor, throwing his arm around her in a loose hug.

"How hard did she have to think of your ugly mug to get that accurate, brother? Help me out here, Lady Ana. This lug should stop dragging his heels," Byron cajoled.

"... He's not ugly," Ana protests, looking overwhelmed.

Byron grinned winningly. "Hear that, brother? High praise!"

"Byron..." Elwin sighs, rubbing his forehead.

"Or do you require another masterwork as a courting gift? Really make your lady earn her place? Something that'll take another half year to create?" Byron continued.

"By the Flames, you sound worse than my council," Elwin grumbles.

"Is that your only objection to this? You're keeping the lady waiting out of spite for your council?" Byron demands. "If so, then I don't know what to tell you. You clearly have your priorities wrong."

Elwin grits his teeth. "I shall take your words into consideration, brother."

Byron scoffs. He stands up and bows to Ana. "Forgive my stubborn fool of a brother, my lady. I tried."

He leaves before Ana can muster her words. Rodney nods at Elwin and moves out of the room, closing the door and staying to guard them.

"I apologize for my brother," Elwin starts. "...Shall we talk? Somewhere not on the floor?"

He holds out a hand, and Ana takes it with a small smile. "There's a perfectly good table over there."

So they relocate to the table. It's the one full of charcoal drawings.

"May I?" Elwin asks, gesturing to said papers. Ana nods.

It's a thick stack of papers. Some are of the Phoenix, but most of them are him, rough sketches in different poses. Full body, closeups, hands, feet, eyes, different expressions, unshaded, watercolored, oil-smeared... The sheer variety and number bowled him over.

"They're just figure studies. I get bored, you see. I'm more comfortable when I'm doing something with my hands. And you're one of my favorite things to think about. You're a very good muse," Ana confesses. "I can't very well give you a whole wardrobe of not-phoenix hoodies, can I?"

"I would welcome them, my lady. Ana," Elwin says gruffly through the sheer intensity of the raging emotions in his chest.

Ana smiles radiantly. Elwin is a fool. A lovesick fool. Byron will never let him live this down.

Elwin closes his eyes. He already knows the answer, but he asks nonetheless. "And, tell me. Are you going to spend the next six months painting me again when I leave you here today?"

"What else should I paint, if not you?" Ana answers simply.

Elwin stands, and goes around to Ana's side of the table. He reaches for her hand and kneels on one knee.

"I never..." His voice is shaking. His hand is shaking. He stops, takes a deep breath, and gathers his thoughts, for if there's an occasion where he needs to express himself clearly, it's this. "Before I met you, I told my brother that I didn't care what my wife looked like, only that she could help me rule Rosaria. But then I met you, and I changed my mind. I would have no other wife. No one other than you will do, my love. For I cannot imagine having anyone else at my side, you see?"

"You bring me light, and laughter, and hope. You reminded me to live. Reminded me that comfort is something I can still have at the end of the day. That I can be a person, all on my own, with wants and needs, and that I could share myself with someone without posturing or thinking of the good of Rosaria."

Elwin swallows, and looks at the painting. Looks at his own visage, reaching for the Phoenix. "And you see me. I can't just be simply Elwin. At all times, I'm the Duke of Rosaria. When we marry, Ana... Most of my time will not be spent at your side, for I am a servant of the people. When we have children, I probably won't be able to spend as much time as I'd like with them either."

"Any child that we have... They might be the next Phoenix. And that means training them. Sending them off to war. It's not something I would wish for anyone. I saw what being the Phoenix did to my father. I saw him die, too early, from the curse."

"So I thought... What if I wait? For this marriage. What's a few years of waiting? If I can give you some freedom, before you get stuck at the castle. Before you feel it warping into your prison for the rest of your life, because it's too dangerous to leave, because you'll be targeted if you step a foot outside. Before you grow to resent me, as my mother did my father."

"But what good does waiting do for you, if you spend it thinking of me anyway? Only misery and loneliness. Byron... I thought he was too young to remember our mother, and how she died. But his words today lead me to believe that he remembers."

Ana engulfs him in a warm hug. "I didn't know that. I'm sorry you had to go through that, Elwin."

"It wasn't told to anyone outside the family, so how could you know? You don't have to apologize," Elwin says, resting his forehead on Ana's shoulder. She rubs his back in slow circles.

"If I spend my time ruling Rosaria by your side, that leaves me less time to paint and mope after you, Your Grace," she says lightly.

"Is that so?" Elwin murmurs, looking up and meeting her eyes. Her eyes are serious, contrary to her teasing tone.

"A burden shared is a burden halved, someone once said," Ana offers. "Delegation is also a thing. Secretaries. Interns and assistants. We might even make it to dinner on time if we find competent helpers."

"An intriguing thought," Elwin agrees. "But that's something for another day. You're absolutely certain?"

Ana smiles, sure and steady. No trace of hesitation. "I am."

"Then, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife in the eyes of the Phoenix?" Elwin murmurs, lips barely an inch away from hers.

"Yes," she breathes out, and their lips touch, finally, an inevitable, pleasant conclusion. He wants—

The door creaks open slightly. A warning. Rodney. Chaperone. Right.

"Astounding timing as always, Rodney," Elwin says, trying and failing to contain a happy grin, unable to look away from Ana.

"Don't call me Rodney," Ana tries to say with a straight face, before succumbing to giggles.

Chapter Text

It still takes over a year to finish the wedding preparations. After all, we're not in the kind of rush that results in an out-of-wedlock child. Elwin and I only enjoy a very limited number of makeout sessions, because Rodney is far from lenient.

Also, Clive has more than enough suffering in his future, and I refuse to add bastardy to that.

My family is ecstatic throughout this whole thing. After all, their investment is finally paying off. The pig is finally big enough for slaughter and they'll be reaping the spoils.

Okay, that's more morbid than I meant. I don't begrudge them their happiness, though. There's very little to be happy about in this world, and they helped me find mine, if nothing else. I wasn't completely miserable while living with them.

I never really opened my heart to them. I was polite and biddable, a wee chick, well-kept in a cage. Honestly, if I didn't need supplies, I could've been a proper hermit, and they probably wouldn't have cared. They could easily say that I was keeping myself pure for Elwin or something along those lines. Why would I bother making any emotional connections to them?

There's plenty of delicious food at home, so I didn't need to buy snacks. I only went out to the town for books, yarn, and paint because of my kindness agenda. You know. Instead of just getting those stuff delievered. I do miss online shopping and same day delivery though.

Being kind is a daily choice for me. It's easy to be lazy and selfish. I could've grown up to be a spoiled princess. A bitchy, shitty, hateful woman. No, thank you.

Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes. My kindness agenda. Well. What would be the point of being kind if I didn't interact with people? What's the point if I didn't show it? I may be an introvert, but I don't have crippling social anxiety. I can handle people in small amounts. Which translates to: go to town, make small talk, try very hard to remember people's names and lives. Deliberately ignore everyone's social status for maybe an hour before retreating to my rooms to recharge.

Over the course of nearly eighteen years of my life, I got to know more people than I did in my first life. There's all the helpers in our estate, who learned to be very indulgent to their young lady, once I made sure they wouldn't get punished for interacting with me.

There's the grandpa manning the bookstore, his granddaughter, and their helpers. There's the matron who spins and sells yarn, and her daughters: a textile dyer, a seamstress, and a weaver, and their helpers. There's the canny uncle who runs the hardware store and saves the best paints for me, and his helpers who are always so busy lugging supplies to and fro.

The old me never even said good morning to whoever was on shift at the convenience store.

... But the point is, I made it my goal to be as visibly kind and caring as possible, in the hopes that I can spark some kindness in the hearts of other people. A minor revolution. If one lady of nobility is decent enough to treat Bearers as people and doesn't get immediately struck down by the heavens, then she's not behaving wrongly, right?

I wanted to show people how to care by example, instead of uselessly telling them to change how they act. I can only hope all the people who stared at me for my foolish behavior will one day realize their own shameful behavior and change their ways.

It's been nearly 18 years. Did I change the timeline that I can barely remember by this point? Did I do anything significant? A resounding NO to both questions. But there's still the future to look forward to. Nothing is over. In fact, everything is just starting. If I had access to Spotify, I'd be playing a hype playlist right now.

Could I have done more? Probably. Give me a break. A girl can enjoy her wedding, yeah? It's a once-in-a-lifetime event, because I'm definitely not marrying Sylvestre Lesage. Elwin would have to die before that can happen, and I will do everything I can to prevent that from happening.

Elwin is not a mere NPC, and I am not holding a PS5 controller, playing a game at home. Deaths are permanent, for everyone. This is not a game.

I shake my head, trying to get back in the correct headspace. There's more in my future than just death and despair.

There's my adorable future babies on the horizon. There's Jill and Torgal, and the rest of the cast. Actually, shouldn't Cid already be alive? ...Wasn't he the Lord Commander of Waloed?! Is he already the Lord Commander?!

A hand strokes my hair, careful of messing up the elaborate hairstyle and jewels.

"No need to be nervous, my daughter. You look stunning! His Grace will not be able to look away. Or is it your wedding night that you're nervous about?" My mother giggles, and I do my best to avoid cringing outwardly.

She places her manicured hands on my shoulders, and they feel like claws. "I'm sure His Grace will be a generous lover. And even if he isn't, it's your duty to provide him heirs. Think of the prestige you'll bring to this family if you become the mother of the next Phoenix, Anabella."

I look at her reflection in the mirror. There's nothing but greed in her eyes. This person... What's her name again? She's only ever been 'Mother' to me because I never bothered learning her name. If someone mentioned it in my hearing range, I don't remember.

"Of course, Mother," I agree easily. I'll be out of your claws soon enough. Elwin's hands are warmer and gentler than yours. I feel safer in his arms than I have ever felt in yours.

Someone knocks on the door.

I close my eyes. Time to face the music. I hum Canon in D under my breath.

-x-

If my children ask me in the future about my wedding day, how do I describe it? Surreal? I feel like I floated in happiness through the whole thing. It's the grandest wedding I've ever been to, and I could barely remember it. I was too focused on Elwin. His tailors should be paid triple the original price. It's a pity that no one was filming us. I deserve a photobook, at the very least.

How do I describe my wedding night? That's between me and Elwin. I wake up before sunrise, sated and tired. Elwin is snoring softly, snuggled into my neck.

Good. This gives me time to plot. What's the best way to disrupt the timeline? How do I do it without being suspicious?

What is plausible, if barely believable? Theoretically, anything, since this world has magic. However, even magic follows certain rules in every world, including this one.

Telling Elwin that I have future knowledge because I knew his story from my old life before I was run over by a truck and reincarnated as Anabella will not go over well. But I can tell Elwin a little bit. Bits and pieces of the truth.

If the Phoenix decides to burn me to a crisp for revealing the future, that's that. Hah, who am I kidding. There's a microscopic chance of that happening. I'm the next Phoenix Dominant's mother after all. On the other hand, if the ultimate creeper gets even a hint of my knowledge... Nothing can save me.

It's fine. It's just another reason to be discreet and picky about what knowledge I can share, and who I share it with.

Elwin stirs as the sun rises. His smile is more radiant that the early morning sunlight outside. "Good morning, my love."

I helplessly smile back. "Good morning."

He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long. I was thinking about our children. Wanna hear?" I ask.

His smile turns smug. "Children, huh? Pray tell."

"Our eldest son will be called Clive, and he'll be the best Shield Rosaria has ever seen. He'll look like you, and he'll be blessed by the Phoenix," I say, focusing on Clive in my mind's eye. I lay a finger to Elwin's lips to stop him from interrupting before I continue. "Our youngest will be named Joshua. He'll be the next Dominant of the Phoenix, though he'll have a weak constitution. He'll take after me in looks."

Elwin takes my hand and squeezes it gently. "What a lovely dream, my lady."

"At some point, you'll find a frost wolf and bring it home, and we'll name it Torgal, but not before you bring home a young princess of the North named Jill, who'll grow up beside our children. She'll be Shiva's Dominant," I finish.

Elwin startles. "...Shiva?"

"Actually, I don't know if it's safe to tell you, but I know the names of all the other Dominants as well," Ana admits. "So I'll let you decide if you want to know or not."

Elwin sits up slowly, not letting go of my hand. "Ana, you dreamed about all of this?"

"I don't know if it can be called a dream. It was more like watching a play," Ana explains. "I figured I'll tell you as soon as possible before I forget. Of course, I could just be completely delusional."

Worlds with magic invariably have some form of seers and prophecies. The method of activation varies, as well as the skill of the seer and the scope of the prophecy. It's a terrible idea to pretend to receive visions. Dreams are a safer bet, and naturally less showy. Warning Elwin about me forgetting something is just common sense. I don't have an eidetic memory.

Elwin is stock-still, hardly breathing. I tentatively poke his chest. "You didn't turn into stone, did you?"

He inhales sharply and shakes his head. "... I'm alright."

"Hmm. You never know. There might've been consequences for telling you about it," I reply. Warning Elwin about possible consequences is also common sense. He pauses.

He stays quiet for a minute, visibly deciding on what to ask. "What else do you think is safe to tell me, Ana?"

"You're supposed to die when Clive is fifteen. On what will be called the Night of Flames, Joshua will enter an uncontrolled prime into the Phoenix for the first time. Clive will awaken as a second Dominant of Fire, and will also be forced to enter an uncontrolled prime and fight Joshua. Joshua loses. Phoenix Gate will be remembered as a tragedy, and Rodney Murdoch will die trying to save Clive. Hanna Murdoch will live in Eastpool as a faithful widow..." I furrow my brows as I realize something. "I don't know why Hanna will have your signature armor set with her in the future. She gives it to Clive."

Elwin sputters. "I don't even know who she is! I promise I'll be faithful to you, Ana! Besides, if she's to be Rodney's wife, why would I betray both you and my best friend?"

I giggle. "That's what you take from all of that?"

Elwin relaxes when it's clear that I wasn't offended. "... I need a bit of time to process what you said, that's all."

I look at our linked hands. "That's fair."

"...Clive will be forced to enter an uncontrolled prime?" Elwin repeats in confusion, brows furrowed. "What could force a Dominant to enter an uncontrolled prime?"

"Who," I reply solemnly, squeezing his hand tightly in mine. He looks back in utter confusion. "Not what, but who."

He inhales sharply. "Who?"

I nod, but keep my mouth shut this time.

Chapter Text

Elwin tucks the comforter around a sleeping Ana, making sure she won't get cold as he gets out of bed before dawn. He normally rose with the sun, but the fact that his days are numbered weighs heavy on him, which results in an even earlier exit from sleep no matter how pleasant their night activities were.

The power of revelation.

He doesn't have enough time to laze around. His hands clench into fists without his conscious decision. Astrologers and augurs are not unheard of, seeing as Sanbreque employs them, but their predictions are generally vague. In contrast, Ana spoke clearly yesterday. Her words rang with absolute truth.

She spoke of his supposed death with fire in her eyes. Unspoken is her promise to help him avoid his demise. However, she also spoke of consequences. What is the consequence of cheating death? How much is his soul worth? Who will pay the price? Shall it be his Ana? His future children? The whole of Rosaria?

That thought scares him more than his imminent death.

-x-

Rodney arrives at the bailey a few minutes after he starts on some sword drills. "Early morning, Your Grace?"

Elwin grunts, swinging his sword overhead. "Distract me, Rodney. Tell me something about you. Something I don't know."

Rodney obliges. "Last time I was in Eastpool, I met—"

"—a Lady Hanna?" Elwin blurts out, sword falling from suddenly numb fingers.

Rodney's eyes widen, and he slowly picks up Elwin's fallen sword. "How did you know?"

"I need a drink, but it's too early in the day," Elwin complains in an undertone. "This is not the place to discuss ...that. And I still feel too jittery to go inside."

Rodney hands him his sword back. "Spar, then?"

Elwin nods.

-x-

They relocate to Elwin's study after the spar. Elwin drops heavily onto the chair behind his desk.

Rodney offers to pour him a cup of wine, but he declines. "I fear I won't stop once I start," Elwin explains.

"I haven't told anyone about Lady Hanna yet," Rodney says.

"Ana told me about her," Elwin replies. Bit by bit, he tells his best friend about the future, as told by Ana.

Rodney stares into the bottom of his cup. "I always knew there's a good chance we'd die together."

Elwin scoffs. "You didn't see her expression. If she has her way, she'll look for a way to avoid it, come hell or high water."

"You asked her to tell you what she considers safe. If your death is considered safe, what's considered unsafe?" Rodney asks, shaking his head.

Elwin exhales heavily. "The identities of all the Dominants, for one thing. Whoever has the power to force a Dominant into priming, for another. Possibly the reason why someone would force a Dominant into priming, as well. And a second Dominant of Fire? Unheard of. Unprecedented. If it was the boy's first time priming, how did they know about it?" Elwin asks the ceiling. "We've grown up knowing there's only eight Eikons, and only seven Dominants."

"No one has ever been a Dominant of Leviathan. And history is always written by the victor," Rodney offers. "What if there were ten Eikons originally?"

Elwin rubs his face. "You're saying... A battle between Eikons happened in the past. One fire Eikon who isn't Phoenix loses and gets wiped from history by the winner. Leviathan's story is covered up and warped, but is allowed to continue existing as a deterrent, a warning to the other Eikons, and the power to become a Dominant of Leviathan is forever removed. And seven other Eikons possibly stayed out of the fight or stayed neutral, and were allowed to continue having Dominants through the ages."

"A fight between Eikons implies beliefs. They fought for something. What was it? Elwin, have you ever heard of any Eikon expressing beliefs?" Rodney asks.

"They give blessings, don't they? Doesn't that count?" Elwin replies weakly.

"You know what I meant. Have they ever expressed any belief strong enough to fight for it? It's always Dominants who control them on the battlefield, so until now, I haven't considered..."

"...that they could think for themselves?" Elwin finishes. "I could really use a drink now. But it's not even past midday."

A light knock on the door. Rodney goes to open the door to find Ana on the other side.

She curtsies. "Sir Rodney! Good morning."

"Your Grace. Good morning to you as well," Rodney salutes and lets her in. Elwin stands up and goes around his desk to greet her, and they meet in the middle of the room.

She cups his cheek tenderly. "You look like you've had a terrible morning, Elwin."

Elwin leans into her touch. "The Lord Commander and I have been discussing the future, Ana."

Ana blinks in surprise, before glancing around the room frantically. She relaxes after a few seconds, and goes to open the curtains on the window, letting a bit more light into the room.

"What was that? Were you looking for something?" Elwin asks. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were looking for spies or eavesdroppers, but we made sure this room is secure before talking."

"You can never be too careful. Some shadows are more than just shadows," Ana explains. "But it's daytime, this is a well-lit room, and the shadows seem fairly normal to me."

"When you say some shadows are more than that, you're not being metaphorical, are you?"

Ana shakes her head. "Not at all. The Dominant of Odin, Barnabas Tharmr, is the darkness to Bahamut's light. Any darker than normal shadows are suspect, if he's in the vicinity. But since he's currently not around, it should be safe enough."

Elwin feels a chill run down his back, and by the looks of it, so did Rodney.

"Is there anything else you could tell us safely, Ana?" Elwin prompts. Ana wanders over to Elwin's desk, absently skimming the stack of papers there as she thinks.

"Most of what I know will happen fifteen years from Clive's birth and onwards," Ana considers.

"His Grace mentioned that you knew about the other Dominants as well. If nothing else, that knowledge will be invaluable to our military," Rodney says.

Ana shrugs. "Waloed has King Barnabas, the Dominant of Odin. I don't know if he's the Lord Commander yet, but Cidolfus Telamon is the Dominant of Ramuh. Cid also eventually recruits Benedikta Harman, the Dominant of Garuda. Sanbreque will have Dion Lesage, Emperor Sylvestre Lesage's first-born son, as the Dominant of Bahamut. The Dhalmekian Republic will have the Dominant of Titan, Hugo Kupka. If we can prevent the Iron Kingdom from capturing Jill Warrick after the Night of Flames, they won't have access to Shiva. I assume you already know about Joshua and Clive."

Before Elwin or Rodney could say anything else, Ana straightens up abruptly in disgust at the papers in her hands. "Why do you have six different reports about incoming food supplies? You don't need to read six flowery novels about the amount of grain that someone's sending you. This could be condensed into one short report, with only the facts and without any embellishments."

Elwin chuckles in amusement. "Yes, they do tend to do that."

"You can save at least a quarter hour if you order them to write short and simple reports, Your Grace. And to collate reports about similar topics into a single report. Your time is valuable. They don't need to tell you about their beautiful nieces and daughters who could become your concubines in the middle of a report about the encroaching blight in the north!" Ana hisses, crumpling said report in her fist.

Elwin winces guiltily, despite knowing it wasn't his fault. He walks over to rescue the report from her hand. "I will never entertain the idea of concubines, my love."

Ana rests her head on his chest for a moment. "Sorry for my outburst."

Elwin hugs her closer. "No apologies necessary."

She hugs him back before stepping away to calm down. "Anyway, as I suspected, your paperwork situation can be improved. How many people in this castle are literate, and how many can be trusted to look at your paperwork? There has to be at least a handful. Not all of this is strictly for your eyes only."

Elwin looks at Rodney. "Well, Lord Commander?"

"May I know exactly what you're planning, Your Grace?" Rodney asks in return. "What are you looking for, aside from literate and trustworthy people? A clearer set of criteria will help me choose better staff."

Ana nods. "That's true. I'm looking for people who can tolerate reading and writing for long amounts of time. Let's say... Five to start? I'll train them to clean up this mess of paperwork in His Grace's desk, so he only needs to look at the absolute necessities and emergencies. We could make a filing system, as there doesn't appear to be any. Currently, there's no rhyme or reason to this pile, and wherever you keep the rest is probably in the same condition. It would be hard to find a specific report if you need it for reference."

"That sounds wonderful, Ana," Elwin exclaims. Ana smiles back.

"Indeed. I shall depart at once, Your Grace," Rodney agrees and salutes before leaving.

With their temporary reprieve from having any observers, Elwin crowds Ana until she's seated on his desk and slots himself between her legs. "I hope you don't mind me telling Rodney about the future."

Ana wraps her arms around his neck. "I'm here to help you, Elwin, not undermine your decisions. And besides, Sir Rodney is trustworthy. I don't mind."

Elwin's eyes stray to her lips as she smiles sweetly. He licks his own.

Ana giggles. "Might I remind you that Sir Rodney left the door open, Your Grace?"

"Forget Rodney," Elwin decides, and swoops in to taste her ringing laughter.

Chapter Text

I get introduced to everyone at the next council meeting. It's mostly a bunch of old dudes and a few middle-aged dudes. Surely there's at least a few reasonable people here that are willing to listen and give me a chance. Surely not all of them are bigots and misogynists.

I decide to mostly observe for the first hour and keep my mouth shut. However, as someone — whose name I shall endeavor to remember by the end of this meeting, if only because he's chattering non-stop — spends half an hour trying to get funding for building a brothel using Rosaria's treasury, my patience snaps.

When he pauses to inhale, I cut him off firmly. "We shall take your words into consideration, my lord." His mouth clicks shut as I stand and move into the middle of the room. "However, why don't we speak of more important things—"

The dude opens his mouth again to interrupt, but I continue on. "—like the blight and our oncoming extinction, if nothing is done about it?"

The effect is akin to someone casting a mass Petrification on everyone in the room. Ah, yes. The power of words.

"Extinction?!" Someone splutters indignantly after a few minutes.

"The blight creeps ever forward, swallowing more and more each passing day. Valuable swathes of land are declared untenable, unusable. Farmland is dwindling, so naturally food is also dwindling. If we don't eat, we starve. Eventually, we'll all starve to death. The mothercrystals won't feed us," I explain.

"Aye, Your Grace. But what can we do about it? We can't farm in the deadlands," someone else points out.

"How do you know? Have you given it a good try?" I reply, meeting his eyes.

He furrows his brows. "I admit I haven't. But there's no aether there, as everyone knows. All the plants die where the blight touches."

"So what I'm hearing is that you assume that nothing can be grown on aetherless land. A simple assumption that you haven't tested," I say. "I admit that plants die in blight-stricken lands. However, plants die for various reasons, like a lack of water or sunlight. That doesn't mean nothing can grow there. Furthermore, some plants don't need as much sunlight or water as others. We might discover that some plants can flourish where others don't."

"What is it that you're suggesting? That we try to farm in the deadlands? That sounds like pure folly!" Another voice I don't know, another face I can't name. "A waste of time!"

"Like you've wasted His Grace's time? No, not at all," I refute calmly. "His Grace is troubled constantly about the blight, and so I would never dare waste his time. No, I vowed to help him in any way I can. I simply think that we've been much too dependent on magic, on aether, and so too are our plants. So when the aether leaves the land, it shocks the plants and the sudden loss of aether causes death. But if plants are cultivated without magic from the start, if they don't grow dependent on aether for nutrition, I think there's a chance they won't die in the deadlands."

Another silence, but this time, I dare to think it's more contemplative.

I continued. "What I propose is this: let's choose a small, easily defensible spot of farmland somewhere in the deadlands and station a troop to guard it. Additionally, let's build some sort of plant house — an indoor garden. Lend us your best farmers for one year, and let them farm various crops in the outdoor farmland and the indoor garden. One year of testing if the idea is viable. It'll be a small scale experiment that could yield life-changing results if it succeeds."

"And you'd have us believe that if it doesn't succeed, we face extinction?!" Someone scoffed.

"Not immediately. But if you've been diligently tracking the speed of the blight's spread as His Grace does, you'll already know that it's our children who will suffer the most."

That hits with the force of a meteor. I smile to soften the blow. "Necessity is the mother of all inventions. My lords, let us adapt our way of thinking. Let us open our minds, and let's try to look for a way forward. I'm sure we all agree that a better future for our offspring is worth it."

Elwin stands and settles beside me, beaming. My heartbeat speeds up and I can feel a blush creeping into my cheeks.

Put that gorgeous smile away, husband! This is a serious discussion! It's distracting!

"I am authorizing this endeavor, unless anyone has some serious concerns?" Elwin asks the room. The lords look at each other and back to Elwin.

"Nay. I believe I speak for everyone when I say, we would like to try," someone who looks to be the oldest councilor answers. "For our offspring."

-x-

"Shall I escort you to your chambers?" Rodney offers drily after only Elwin and I were left in the council room. My face is the reddest it's ever been. Elwin hasn't taken his bedroom eyes off me since authorizing the experiment from earlier.

"Why, how bold of you, Lord Commander," Elwin says, but doesn't turn to look at Rodney.

"Don't call me Lord Commander," I tease back.

Rodney rolls his eyes. "If I leave you here or escort you anywhere else, can you promise you won't desecrate the premises?"

I let out an involuntary squeak as Elwin clings to me tightly. "What say you, my dear Ana?" He murmurs, hot breath tickling my burning ear.

"D-Don't you have other work to do today?" I ask, clutching the last straws of my sanity.

"You think I can focus on anything else other than you after that display?" Elwin growls.

Rodney lets out a loud, long-suffering sigh by the door.

-x-

Time passes. Elwin's paperwork squad is getting more competent by the day.

There's always a certain amount of aether in the atmosphere, and humans in Valisthea have adapted to it, to the point that non-Bearers don't notice it anymore. Bearers have a greater capacity and sensitivity for it in their bodies, and that is how they can use magic, but if they use too much, too often, without giving themselves time to recover the spent aether, they turn to stone.

Dominants have the greatest capacity for aether out of everyone, but if they overdo it, they turn to stone faster than anyone else as well, because they can't draw aether from the atmosphere fast enough.

Conversely, if someone gets flooded by too much aether, they turn into Akashic.

So, something to consider: what about when Bearers or Dominants are still in the womb? The castle library has no proper organization method that I can figure out. Where's the section for expectant mothers of future Dominants?! Where's the Valisthea version of What to Expect When You're Expecting?! I might have to create a librarian squad.

...I'm sure it'll be fine. The Phoenix will see me through Clive. Joshua's about five years away, after all.

-x-

Lately, my attention gets constantly drawn to somewhere in my lower abdomen, like someone waving a hand in my peripheral vision. It doesn't hurt or anything like that. Is that normal? I haven't told Elwin yet.

Also, I could really use some bubble tea in my life right now. Or anything with lots of sugar to perk me up. Maybe I should tell Elwin not to tire me out too much at night so I don't wake up even more tired in the mornings? Hmm, is it me or is the world fuzzing out?

"Your Grace?!" A panicked voice snaps me out of my reverie. Mira, one of the castle helpers that I recently met, is supporting me. As my eyes focus, I suddenly realize that I nearly tumbled down the stairs.

"Mira! Thank you! I would've rolled down the stairs if you weren't there!" I exclaim, hugging her tightly. "I'll make you a super extra comfy hoodie! What's your favorite color?"

"Um. You're welcome, Your Grace," she replies shyly.

"And your favorite color?" I insist.

"G-Green?" She offers tentatively. "Ah, but more importantly, you looked really unwell a few moments ago, Your Grace! Shall I get the physicker?"

Of course, she says it right as Elwin rounds the corner. My eye twitches. And of course he heard her.

"Physicker? Ana? Are you feeling ill?" He asks as he takes my hand.

I wave my other hand through the air, sweeping away unseen dust, or perhaps invisible aether. "Merely tired and hungry. I was on my way to the kitchens for a bite of anything sweet and a cup of milk."

"I see. Then let's go to the kitchens together," Elwin decides, nodding to Rodney behind him.

"I shall call the physicker," Rodney says, and salutes before leaving. I pout, but let him herd me to food. Ah well. I'm not trying to keep it a secret, anyway.

I hug his arm and lean on him slightly as we walk, a small smile on my face.

"You look happy," he observes. I grin as I spot a window with thick, floor-length curtains bracketing it, and pull him over. I wrap the curtains around us, giggling.

He goes with the flow easily, eyes crinkling in amusement. "What's all this for?"

I hug him tight around the middle, resting my head over his heart. "You'll get confirmation in a few minutes, I imagine. But I wanted to tell you first. You're going to be a father," I say, keeping my voice only loud enough for him to hear.

His breath stutters, and then he's hugging me back just as tightly. "Really?" He whispers. I nod. I hear footsteps approaching.

Rodney clears his throat loudly from beyond the curtain.

I try to disengage, but Elwin refuses to let go.

Rodney clears his throat again. I giggle.

Rodney clears his throat again. I giggle louder. "Sir Rodney, the physicker might have some cough drops for your throat."

"Your Grace, I have the physicker with me," Rodney announces.

"Forgive us, Sir Rodney. We need a minute. His Grace has just had a shock," I say, cupping Elwin's cheek. His eyes are extra shiny, but he hasn't let any tears fall.

He gives me a chaste kiss, before closing his eyes and getting himself together. He reluctantly lets me go and I follow him out as he exits the curtain with a radiant smile. "Come, let's not make my wife starve."

They officially announce my pregnancy to the rest of Rosaria later that day.

Chapter Text

Thank the Flames for physickers and effective potions. Otherwise, Elwin would have spent most of Ana's early pregnancy stressing over her morning sickness — a terribly inaccurate term, as it happens at all times of the day.

Ana wanly grins through it. "I'm growing to hate the taste of these potions, but it's either this or the taste of vomit."

He brushes a stray lock of hair away from her face. "I wish it wasn't necessary. The physicker says it should stop in a couple of weeks."

"I'll be alright, Elwin," she assures him.

Elwin nods. "I have a present for you, if you're feeling up to it."

She straightens up. "A present?"

He leads her to the solar, which has been transformed while Ana was preoccupied on account of the gleaming black grand piano in the middle of the room. Ana gasps in delight.

"You said you played the piano, and I haven't had the chance to hear you play yet," Elwin says.

Ana beams at him. "Oh, you remembered!" Clear notes ring through the air as she tests the keys with an arpeggio. "It sounds lovely. And I'm out of practice, but... A simpler, stripped down version will do."

She sits down, biting her lower lip. She inhales deeply, then exhales slowly, before starting. She starts off slow. The melody is clear, sweet, and hopeful, and though Elwin hasn't heard it before, it elicits a sense of nostalgia. It feels right. It only lasts for a couple of minutes, and already, Elwin wants to hear it again, and again, until it sears into his brain.

"That was wonderful. Thank you, Ana," Elwin says. Ana smiles and pats the bench beside her. He obliges.

"Do you want me to teach you? That version isn't that complicated," Ana offers.

"I think I will be up to the task," Elwin replies gamely.

-x-

"Something looks different," Ana observes that morning, turning this way and that in front of the mirror in their chambers. Standing behind her, Elwin studies her reflection, trying to spot anything amiss. It's been a week since her morning sickness stopped. She looks healthier, and less tired, too.

Before Elwin can say anything, Ana cups her right breast nonchalantly. "Ah, I think my boobs grew bigger. Hmm, I think they're more sensitive, too."

Elwin feels his blood rushing down south so fast that he feels a bit light-headed. No matter how hard Rodney scowls at him for being late that morning, it was a morning well-spent, investigating the changes in Ana's body.

-x-

"So Cidolphus Telamon is already a ranked officer of the Waloed army, and there's no word on Benedikta Harman..." Elwin taps the report with a finger restlessly.

"Your Grace," Rodney calls.

Elwin looks up. "What is it, Lord Commander?"

"I'm sure your assistants and I can manage for the rest of the day," Rodney offers. "You've been staring at reports for too long."

"If you think I'm going to abandon my post early in the middle of the afternoon..." Elwin trails off when his assistants all smile and nod at him. Elwin stands quickly. "You're absolutely right. Where is my wife at this time of day?"

"She's knitting in her usual spot in the gardens, Your Grace," Rodney answers.

"Wonderful!" Elwin declares, already feeling his mood lighten up.

-x-

His eyes note the guards posted surreptitiously in the area. Good. He deliberately pushes their presence to the back of his mind with the long ease of practice.

Ana is indeed knitting in the gardens. Set against a backdrop of innumerable roses, she is nonetheless the most beautiful flower in the vicinity. With the sunlight caressing the pale hair flowing loosely down her back and kissing her glowing skin, she looks heaven-sent.

There's a small smile on her face as she focuses on the whatever she's working on. She's the very picture of serenity.

"You look more beautiful every time I set my eyes on you, Ana," Elwin says as he settles beside her. He drops a kiss on her cheek and slides an arm around her back.

She visibly perks up. "Elwin! What a pleasant surprise. Sir Rodney released you early today, huh?"

"He didn't want me to be deprived of your presence any longer," Elwin agrees. He lays his other hand on top of Ana's bump. "How's Clive today?"

"Enjoying the sun. If not for him, I'd probably be burning already from this bright sunlight. Instead it just feels perfectly warm," Ana replies, lacing her fingers with his. "But I got a lot done!"

He picks one of her creations up: it's some sort of dark serpentine creature with an excessive number of fins. The shape looks closer to a sausage. It's very soft. "What is it?"

"It's a long pillow designed to stop babies from rolling," Ana explains. "I still have to weave in the yarn ends, so it's not finished yet."

"Yes, but what is it?" Elwin repeats, flapping the fins back and forth.

"You don't recognize it?" Ana asks. "It's Leviathan."

"...I think you got the proportions wrong, my lady," Elwin notes tentatively, afraid of pointing out a critical mistake but doing it nonetheless.

Ana giggles. "I designed it that way, silly! Don't you think Clive would get scared if I made it accurately? It's cuter this way. I call it Longviathan."

"Ah, I see. You're right, of course," Elwin agrees. To their surprise, there's a sudden movement under their hands on Ana's stomach.

Ana smiles down lovingly. "I'm pretty sure he agrees, too."

Perhaps it's possible to repeatedly fall in love with the same person, falling deeper and deeper each time. He kisses her forehead tenderly. "I love you, Ana."

Ana beams. "Love you, too."

Another kick from Clive, as if he wanted to remind them of his presence. Elwin drops a kiss on Ana's stomach obligingly. "And of course, I love you too, Clive. I can't wait to meet you."

-x-

"We got a report from the deadlands farm today! It seems like everything is growing well! Of course we'll need to wait for the harvest for the official results, but I'm glad it worked out!" Ana tells him excitedly that morning. She doesn't spend as much time in Elwin's study any more, but she still regularly checks in with him and his assistants.

He can't help but smile back. "There was never any doubt in my mind, my lady."

Ana splutters. "T-That's illogical! Unless it's proven as a fact, you should have a healthy amount of doubt!"

"How could I doubt you? That's illogical," Elwin points out, grin widening.

She covers his face with her hand, but her hand is really only big enough to cover his mouth, so he can still see her brilliant blush.

"F-Forget it! I'm going to the library! The librarians and I are going to tame it into submission and I will find some books that are acceptable for children's eyes and ears and not The Saint and The Sectary or so help me, I'm writing new stories!"

Her flustered indignation only makes her more endearing. "Of course, Ana. I look forward to reading your stories."

-x-

A week later, he finds Ana sleeping at the desk in their chambers, head pillowed in her arms, her hair in a loose braid. She doesn't wake when he lays a hand on her shoulder. Beside her is a stack of papers, with the top one proudly showing the title, The Little Prince, along with a watercolor painting of a curly-haired blond boy standing in what appears to be a round rock, with a starry background. His meetings ended late today, much to his displeasure. She must've been waiting to show this to him.

He slowly maneuvers and lifts Ana, taking care not to wake her as he carries her over to their bed. Once he's satisfied that she's comfortable, he goes back to the desk and picks up the stack of papers in curiosity. He starts to sit down, but thinks better of it and settles beside Ana on the bed instead.

He examines the title page again, admiring Ana's artistry. It looks very different from the realistic painting she did of him and the Phoenix. Simpler, and easier to recognize for children. He smiled, stroking the page one last time, before setting it aside to read the next. And the next, and on, and on, until he was sobbing uncontrollably by the last page.

Arms encircled him. "Oh, Elwin, what's wrong? What is it?"

He turned to his Ana, her visage barely visible through his tears. "A-Ana," he sobbed into her hair helplessly.

She finally notices the papers in his hands when she tries to hug him closer. She gasps, and takes them from his clutches to set them on the bedside table.

"Oh, dear. Oh, no. Oh, I'm so sorry," Ana stammered, wiping his tears frantically. "Oh, Elwin, I didn't mean to make you cry! I'm sorry! I-I'll throw it away if you—"

"No!" He shouts, startling her with his vehemence. "No, that's not necessary. It was a wonderful story, Ana."

She wipes the last tears off his cheeks, eyes wide and face in a concerned frown. "But, Elwin..."

"I love it, Ana. I'm sure our children will love it too," Elwin assures her, leaning his forehead on hers, as close as he can be and still look at her eyes. He strokes her belly tenderly.

"It hit you really hard, though," Ana says, tightening her arms around him.

"As I imagine it would, to any adult who reads it for the first time," Elwin points out dryly.

Ana blinks in surprise. "... You're planning on letting others read it?"

It's Elwin's turn to be confused. "You're not? Weren't you lamenting the lack of appropriate stories for children? I'm sure we could order a dozen copies to be made for distribution among Rosaria, and although capturing the same style of painting might be difficult, I'm sure any artists we employ will do their best to recreate your art. And soon enough, it'll be popular enough to be retold through word of mouth and plays, mark my words. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if someone attempts to make an airship, after reading this story. Especially if word gets to Kanver."

Her jaw drops. "...Sometimes I forget you're a duke and you can just decide to do things like that," Ana admits, dropping her head on his shoulder.

Elwin chuckles. "It must be the late hour. I apologize for waking you with my distress. Shall we sleep?"

And so they do, with Ana cradled in his arms, and her stomach between them.

-x-

Ana stretches her arms to the sky, before moving on to more bizarre poses. Elwin grins as her next attempts grow increasingly more ridiculous.

Ana pouts when she realizes he's watching her with unabashed amusement. "Are you going to help or what?"

"Might I inquire about what you're attempting to do?" Elwin asks, hugging her from behind and rubbing her bump in slow circles.

"Just. Stretching. Exercise! My body feels heavy and a bit stiff today," Ana explains. Under her breath, she mutters irritably, "Yoga. Hmph."

"I have no knowledge of yoga, but I can help you stretch," Elwin agrees. She relaxes into his hold.

-x-

"Shouldn't you be on bed rest?" Byron asks worriedly.

Ana scoffs and insists on walking. "I'm not an invalid, I don't need to stay in bed at all times of the day. It's just walking. I mastered walking when I was a toddler, just like everyone else."

Elwin keeps his mouth closed, keeping pace with her slow waddle. He has already learned his lesson and doesn't need a repeat of the hour-long lecture about the benefits of exercise. Byron, who was walking on Ana's other side, opens his mouth, and Elwin quickly glares at him to stop him from saying anything else.

"Just because I feel twice as heavy and I get tired easily doesn't mean—"

She stops and looks down. A puddle of fluid grows under her. She stares back at him blankly. "I think my water just broke."

"Your what?!" Byron yelps in panic. In contrast, Rodney swiftly leaves to fetch the physicker and midwife, as planned. Elwin feels unmoored.

Ana squeezes his hand. "Elwin, breathe."

He inhales, realizing belatedly that he'd been holding his breath without conscious thought. He regains control of his body.

"Good. We're fine. Clive is arriving on time. Alright?" Ana asks.

Elwin nods, overwhelmed and amazed at how calm Ana is. "Alright."

"Great. Now. Calm your brother down, would you? I was hoping he'd be doing that for you, but it seems you'll be doing the opposite," Ana gestures to Byron, who seems to be on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Right," Elwin sighs.

-x-

No man can enter the birthing chamber, and so he, Byron, and Rodney stand vigil outside, for however long it takes. The sun has long set, and it's nearing midnight.

"Is it supposed to last this long?" Byron whispers fearfully from where he's tucked under Elwin's arm. Elwin put Byron there when he got tired of Byron's panicked, stressed pacing. "It's been fifteen hours. I don't understand why you're so calm."

If he'd gone home even once since Elwin married Ana, Elwin could have shared his knowledge from Ana's dreams. But alas, when Byron got a taste of freedom and chose to stay at Port Isolde under the guise of giving the newlyweds some space, Elwin couldn't begrudge him his happiness to order him home. He only called Byron back because Ana was due to give birth, and here they are. He'll tell him later, when they're alone and not in the hallway where anyone can overhear.

"Clive's just giving you the time to accept that you're an uncle now," Elwin consoled his brother with a light squeeze on his shoulder.

Byron startles. "Oh, that's right... I'm an uncle now..."

Right on cue, a baby's wail pierces the stillness of that night at Rosalith Castle.

Elwin beams at Byron and claps his shoulder. "What did I tell you? That's our Clive."

A hand claps Elwin's own shoulder. "Congratulations, my friend," Rodney offers.

Elwin beams at him too. "Thank you!"

The doors of the birthing chamber fly open then. The physicker triumphantly announces, "It's a boy, Your Grace!"

Faster than he can blink, he's sitting on a chair by Ana's bed and being handed their baby. Clive.

"I love him, Ana. I love you," he declares to Clive, voice wobbly as he valiantly tries not to cry. Clive squirms a little, arms flailing, but settles down when Elwin holds him closer.

"Told you he'd look like you," Ana teases. "Black hair, red-faced, and trying not to cry."

He chuckles wetly and looks up at her. "I'm so proud of you, Ana. Look at what you made. A perfect baby."

"I'm sure Sir Rodney has definitive, firsthand witness testimony that you were an active participant when the little guy was made, hm?" Ana asks someone behind him.

He glances back to see Rodney restraining Byron via his collar by the door, evidently trying to give Elwin some time with his new son before Byron barges into the picture.

Rodney plays along. "Certainly, Your Grace. I can probably list—"

Elwin splutters. "Fine, fine, no need for that. You can let my brother go now. Come and meet your nephew, Byron."

Byron approaches tentatively, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. Oh, right. He hadn't been there when Ana made Elwin practice holding a baby using Longviathan. Elwin considers actually making Byron practice first, but decides it doesn't matter. He'll be here to prevent any mistakes.

"Right. Copy my left arm position," Elwin instructs. "I'm going to lay his head on the crook of your elbow, you need to support his neck like so."

"What if I drop him?!" Byron yelps.

Elwin rolls his eyes. "Don't."

"But—"

Elwin ignores him, and hands Clive over, correcting Byron's hands as he goes. Byron stiffens up but at least his hold is secure.

"...Hi, baby. Clive. Hello."

Elwin snorts.

Byron flushes. "Shut up!"

Clive wails, protesting against the sudden loud voice. Byron wordlessly begs Elwin to take Clive back.

Elwin shakes his head and takes his son back, instinctively rocking him gently to make him settle down. "Yes, yes, Uncle Byron is very loud, you'll get used to it soon enough, Clive. Let's let your mother sleep and move somewhere else, hm?"

Byron guiltily glances at Ana before slipping out the door quietly. Elwin strokes a dozing Ana's hand before leaving. Rodney closes the door.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make him cry," Byron says, taking care to talk in a low volume. "...You look like you really know what you're doing, brother."

"No worries, brother. And what can I say, practice really helps," Elwin replies. "I'll introduce you to Longviathan sometime. Do you think you can stay long enough for a serious talk tomorrow? We might as well take this opportunity. I don't know when you'll come home next."

"Sure. I was planning on staying for a week, anyway," Byron agrees.

Chapter Text

I wake up unsettled on Clive's second day of existence. Very unsettled. I can't remember how Elwin dies.

Beside me, Elwin is sleeping soundly on his back. I lay my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, counting them, trying to keep my mounting panic at bay.

I do that for a while. Eventually, I remember that Joshua primes for the first time because Elwin gets decapitated in front of him and Clive.

I get up, determined to write everything down. A few minutes later, I find myself staring in betrayal at my shaking hand. It's shaking so badly that I doubt anything I write with a quill will be legible. Physical paper doesn't have autocorrect, and I can't just switch fonts with the click of a mouse, sadly.

As if sensing my rising anxiety, a cry from Clive erupts from the next room, although it's soon hushed. Before I can consciously decide, I'm already putting the quill down and walking over to the nursery.

I nod at the night guards by the door as I enter the room. Oh, it seems Mira is taking care of Clive tonight.

"Mira. Thank you for staying with Clive tonight," I say as I reach out for my baby. She hands him over and curtsies. Clive settles in my arms after a few seconds of rocking.

"Your Grace! Apologies if he woke you. He's been fed..." Mira trailed off uncertainly.

"At ease, Mira. I was already awake," I assure her. I lower my nose down to Clive's sparse head of hair, inhaling his scent. Hmmm, baby smell. I can feel myself calming down. "I don't think I'll be able to go back to sleep, so I'll just spend the next few hours with Clive. You can go get some rest."

She nods and curtsies as I walk back to the bedroom with Clive in my arms.

Elwin wakes with the sun as he usually does. I'm seated by the desk, staring at the blank sheet of paper and the quill beside it. Clive's still in my arms, even though my arms are going numb, because just the thought of placing him down makes my anxiety spike.

Elwin blinks in confusion at the empty space on the bed beside him, before sitting up to look around for me. He spots me and hurries over.

"Ana?" He cradles my cheek gently when he gets close enough. "What's the matter?"

I attempt a smile and probably end up with a grimace. "I must look awful if it makes you look like that."

He waits. I gesture to the other chair by the desk as well as the pen and quill. He obligingly takes the quill as he sits down.

I can't look at him, so I focus on Clive's sleeping face instead. "I'd like to tell you everything I can remember, and not just the knowledge I think is safe for you to know. Today, I woke up unable to remember how you died... I did recall it eventually, but whether by divine intervention or simply my human brain failing, I feel like if I don't tell you now, I won't remember enough in the future. I couldn't get my hand to stop shaking long enough to write anything down."

He reaches out to squeeze my hand. "Alright. I'll write it down for you, Ana. I'll listen."

"Clive is fifteen, being trained by Sir Rodney in using the Phoenix's blessing offensively in combat. Joshua, Jill, and Torgal watch on the sidelines, cheering him on."

"Later, you assign him his first official command: to slay some goblins in a nearby ransacked town, before joining you, Joshua, and a contingent of our army at Phoenix Gate. Clive ends up slaying the goblins and a morbol, but he's relatively unharmed when he gets to Phoenix Gate. There's a feast that night, but also assassins and turncoats from Sanbreque."

My voice breaks. "J-Joshua loses control and primes for the first time because... someone cuts your head off in front of him and Clive."

"You passed laws to improve the situation and treatment of Bearers in Rosaria. You were targeted because some awful people didn't like changes to the status quo, and hated Bearers with every fiber of their being."

"A hooded figure coerces Ifrit out of hiding, out of Clive. Ifrit and Phoenix battle it out. Ifrit wins, but Clive doesn't remember priming. He does remember the hooded figure, and the second Eikon of Fire, and Phoenix's demise."

"You, Joshua, and Clive are all officially declared dead. Joshua is saved by the Undying Flames. Clive gets captured and branded as a Bearer for the imperial army. For thirteen years, he's known as Wyvern, one of the Bastards, a group of Bearers."

There's so much more to go, and so much that I've already forgotten. Names, dates, places. I carry on regardless.

I tell him about Jill, about Cid, about the Hideaway. Cid's people. Lostwing, and Garuda, and how Clive gains Garuda's power. Another encounter with the hooded figure. Clive meeting Martha, meeting Hanna. The massacres, the Black Knights, the Guardians of Flame. Clive's reunion with Byron. The truth about the mothercrystals and Ultima, and Cid's plan. Cid's death. Joshua, absorbing a part of Ultima. Hugo Kupka attacking the Hideaway and how Clive gains Titan's power. The new Hideaway. Clive taking Cid's name.

At some point, baby Clive is taken away, and I end up in Elwin's arms. That's okay. The next part of the story is about Sanbreque and Dion and Bahamut, and I — I haven't breathed a word about the original Anabella. But I have to. I don't think I could do it while holding my baby. It's Rodney who's taking notes now, and I'm sorry for giving him a hard time deciphering my words amidst my uncontrollable sobbing.

"Anabella Rosfield—" I spit out her name. I can't think of her as me. I never will. "— hated Clive the moment it becomes clear that he's not the Dominant of Phoenix. Considers him a failure and says it to his face. She pours all her love to Joshua and leaves none for her firstborn son. She's the first traitor, the one who hired assassins for Elwin. She's the one who chooses to let Clive suffer as a slave for thirteen years. Later, she marries Sylvestre Lesage, and becomes the Empress of Sanbreque. Ultima poses as her son, Olivier, and together they poison Sanbreque from the inside."

I explain Dion's coup and the aftermath. The aetherflood, the Akashic. The fight with Sleipnir. I wish I was providing a clear play-by-play, instead of an inadequate number of sentences for most scenes. I tell them of Mid, of building the Enterprise. Of Clive nearly getting cut in half. Of Jill getting kidnapped again. Of finishing the Enterprise and catching up with the Einherjar.

Then it's King Tharmr playing with Joshua, cutting the ocean with the name I couldn't remember in half, outplaying Clive afterwards.

How did Clive and Jill end up on a lonely patch of beach at night? I don't know. I do know that she lets Clive gain Shiva's power. They get rescued by Mid and the Enterprise.

Clive somehow ends up getting Odin's power after confronting him about his hypocrisy. I admit that I can't remember how Clive gets Odin's power. I don't admit it's because the video was just playing in the background while I did something else, and I didn't pay attention. I didn't notice when Byron took over Rodney to write either.

Then it's the ascendance of Origin. Joshua punches Clive at some point while Gav is scouting for something. Dion volunteers Bahamut as transport for Clive and Joshua.

Racing for the end. Ultima explaining his evil plans that I can only explain incoherently because like I said, the video was just playing in the background and I wasn't paying attention. Joshua giving Clive Phoenix as he dies. Clive struggling and eventually triumphing over Ultima. Giving Phoenix back Joshua. Ending up on a beach, trying to spark fire in his hand, the curse turning him to stone.

"Ultima gets destroyed. The mothercrystals are gone. But at what cost? The blight is unstoppable. Where's the happy ending?! Clive is—"

Elwin clutches me tighter. "Shhhh... It's enough, Ana. Breathe, my love."

I try. I try, even though I know it's not enough. I can't replay the game in my mind clearly enough. I can't just watch playthroughs of the game on YouTube. Without the Internet, without access to the wiki or other dedicated databases, my knowledge is full of holes. So many missing details. Is this enough to save my family?

Chapter Text

If only emotional wounds can be healed as easily as physical wounds, Elwin thinks, stroking Ana's hair as she sleeps on. She still looks exhausted and listless, even in sleep.

He wants to stay beside her, but duty calls. A knock on the door. Byron, right on time. He opens the door and claps a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I really appreciate what you're doing for Ana, Byron."

"I know," Byron sighs in exasperation and pushes him onward. "We've been over this. She's my family, too."

As he and Rodney walk to his first task of the day, he sends another mental thank you to his brother.

Byron had readily dropped his plan to leave after a week and promised he would stay until Ana is feeling better. He's been a massive help to Ana's recovery, and slow as it may seem, she is recovering. He's been keeping her company, doing all he can to lift her spirits up. It's a task which suits his personality well, and it's working, bit by bit.

Yesterday, Ana was able to hold Clive without bursting into tears. Tomorrow, or the day after that, she may even regain her smile.

-x-

"Brother!" Byron barges triumphantly into a meeting about the crop yield from the deadlands. It was going very well — with a lot of effort, ordinary human hands can farm on lands without aether, and as the farmers gain experience, it should get easier and simpler as well. Now, the challenge was expanding the operation, without alerting their enemies or losing lives from monster attacks.

"Brother, you need to come!" Byron insists, going so far as to physically drag him like an impatient child.

Well. The meeting can wait. Elwin wants some good news about Ana. Although, he could do with a little more dignity than being dragged bodily across the castle. "I can walk, you know."

"You're too slow otherwise!" Byron scoffs. "You're missing out!"

Behind them, Rodney walks sedately. As they approach the solar, Elwin hears music. Byron opens the door and waves him inside, silently mouthing, "You're welcome."

Ana sits on the piano bench, bathed in sunlight, hands travelling along the piano keys in an intricate pattern, bringing beautiful, heartwarming music to life. She looks at peace, and he can see a barely-there smile on her lips.

Oh, he loves her so much. He's so, so relieved that she's going to be alright.

One of their Bearers — Mira? He's not as familiar with them as Ana — approaches with a baby basket. "Would you like to hold him, Your Grace?"

Clive is awake, and waving his arms in the air as Ana picks up the pace, playing the main melody in staccato. Elwin beams as he picks him up. "Enjoying the music, I see."

Byron leans on his free side, patting Clive's foot affectionately. "If we're lucky, he'll inherit even a little bit of her musicality."

Elwin uses his free arm to hug his brother as Ana slows down the tempo. He has already told his brother his thanks repeatedly, and this, here, is enough.

Ana speeds up again in what appears to be the climax, fingers dancing on the keys and transitioning to the ending seamlessly. Everyone claps, even Elwin making a good effort while holding Clive. Ana stands and bows to them, gracing them with a small, heartfelt smile.

-x-

"Lie down," Ana instructs, motioning to their bed.

"It's the middle of the day," Elwin protests weakly, but follows nonetheless. "Now what?"

"Just lie back and think of Rosaria," Ana says, before putting Clive on his stomach, on Elwin's chest. "And don't let our baby fall."

Elwin stared at his son in confusion, who's struggling to lift his head. "I don't think he can hold his head up yet..." Elwin holds his hands out, ready to catch Clive if the baby moves the wrong way, but just lets him be for now.

"He can, but he needs practice in short spans of time," Ana explains. Elwin looks back at her and finds her sketching them, eyes moving from them, then to the paper, then back to them for reference as her hand moves on the paper.

Ana gives him the finished painting two weeks later, a beautiful oil painting of him and Clive in bright, warm colors. He gets it framed and displayed in the hallway leading to their bedroom. He studies the rest of the hallway: just an empty stretch of stone wall. Nothing special, no fancy decorations. Cold and utilitarian. Simply a passageway that he's traveled through thousands of times to get to and from his chambers. He imagines adding more of Ana's paintings in the future, pieces of their life, their family, displayed in these walls, and feels warmth.

-x-

Clive will not stop crying. The physicker already checked and found no illness, and simply recommended holding him close and waiting for him to stop.

He eyes Ana, who looks just about ready to cry herself as she rocks Clive in her arms. He drops a kiss on her forehead. "I'll take him."

She hands him over, but still puts up a token protest. "Don't you have that meeting with—"

"Our noble lords often behave like children. Clive will fit right in," Elwin assures her.

She snorts weakly. "Savage."

And so Elwin walks into the council room with a wailing Clive. Whatever noise and conversations were happening before he arrived dies a sudden death. "Gentlemen. Let us show my infant son how to behave like fully functioning adults today in the hopes that he'll grow up into a wonderful person, hm?"

The unspoken threat to behave works wonderfully, and his morning turns out to be the most productive one in a while. Clive quiets and falls asleep after some time.

Maybe he should bring Clive to more meetings.

-x-

"I see we adopted a new puppy," Elwin says, trying to hide his smile and losing the battle. Ana passes Clive over.

Clive is fully kitted out: a hat with what appears to be wolf ears, a one-piece suit, and mittens and booties with paw pads in contrasting white and gray yarn.

Ana grins. "Byron sent me the yarn and I was inspired!"

Elwin offers a finger, and Clive grabs it with his paw readily. "We'll have to send him something good in return."

"I finished my latest book, how about that?" Ana offers.

Elwin perks up. "Can I read it first?"

-x-

Byron eyed the thick package from his brother and Ana in confusion. What on Valisthea?

Opening it gives him an unfamiliar book and a growing excitement. It must be another one written by Ana.

The cover has simple outlines of mountains drawn at the top, and possibly Leviathan at the bottom. The title is The Hobbit — an unfamiliar word that Byron looks forward to learning more about. When he opens it, there's a handwritten note by Ana, saying, To Byron, thanks for the beautiful yarn you sent last time.

The second page is the same as the second page on Ana's The Little Prince, a simple line saying This is a work of fiction.

He grabs a glass of wine and settles in for a good read.

Chapter Text

Knock knock.

Who's there?

Depression.

Depression who? Whoever you are, go the fuck away. I have no room for you in my soul!

Clive has learned how to smile! Purposefully, I mean. He can recognize faces now. And he's like. Pudgy. His cheeks look so squishy. He's so smiley.

Luckily, Longviathan is right there beside him for me to focus all my cute aggression on, otherwise I would've pinched Clive's cheeks multiple times by now.

He's also started making more adorable noises, so I talk to him more whenever he's awake. Bits and pieces of stories as I try to remember important plot points of The Lord of The Rings and piece them back together coherently. The little guy is very non-judgemental and an excellent sounding board. Maybe I should credit him as a co-author.

-x-

As time passes, he learns to track objects, and his grip strength increases. I know this firsthand from whenever I forget to tie my hair out of the way, such as today, when we're having a relaxing afternoon picnic in the castle gardens.

Elwin gently rescues a lock of my hair from Clive's hand and raises it to his lips. "I'm sure to him, it's like solidified sunlight, shining brightly."

I clutch Clive to my chest as blood rushes to my cheeks.

Excuse you, Your Grace! We are in public! There's a child around! Have you no care for the young ears you're subjecting to your flirting?! What if he grows up as a playboy?!

-x-

Clive can sit up now! Propped up by cushions around him, but it still counts. I can paint him sitting up now!

...Making a baby book without a camera is impossible, of course. Painting each baby milestone? Excruciating, but very rewarding whenever I pass through the hallway as painting-Clive smiles back at me. My skill in painting and drawing has grown leaps and bounds with all this practice.

Not to mention all the clothes I've knitted as Clive grew bigger. I know I can't knit every single piece of his wardrobe, but I can sure try.

I also have several failed attempts at making a Phoenix plushie. But we don't talk about that.

-x-

I dive for the edge of the bed, stopping Clive from rolling over the edge on the nick of time.

"Phoenix's flaming balls! Weren't you in the middle of the bed just now?!" I laugh nervously.

He smiles angelically as he waves his arms up.

"Yes, yes, you're lucky you're so cute. You gave me a fright," I say as I pick him up. "And you're getting heavy!"

-x-

"Aaaaah," I say, opening my mouth wide.

Clive cooperates and matches me. "Aaaah!"

I feed him a tiny amount of mashed apple. His confused face makes me giggle.

-x-

Elwin sits beside me on the piano bench, holding Clive in his lap.

"I think I finally got it right. This is the chocobo song!" I explain, before starting the fun melody.

I'm rewarded with matching beaming smiles from both my boys. Elwin claps Clive's hands for him when I finish.

"The chocobo song, huh? How did you come up with it?" Elwin asks as I play it again.

"Hm? I just think riding a chocobo should be really fun! So the background music should match the feeling," I reply. I can't really say it was composed by someone else, can I?

"That is true. Now that I've heard this song, I dare say I'll be humming it the next time I go riding," Elwin declares.

-x-

I drop the sweater I'm knitting and stretch out my aching fingers. "It's a good time to take a break anyway. I'm feeling hungry," I tell Clive, who's been sitting in my lap, gumming on his fist. I take his fist off his mouth and wipe the drool away.

We trek to the kitchens, where I get a sandwich and gossip a little with the cooks.

Clive, who's sitting on my lap again, lunges unexpectedly for the sandwich that I've been waving around as I talk. His mouth gets nowhere close to the sandwich, even then. I dissolve into giggles. "Sorry, sorry, I should've known you'd be hungry too."

One of the cooks hands over a small saucer of mashed apple. "Here you go, Your Grace."

"Oh, thank you!"

Chapter Text

Elwin raises Clive above his head, making him shriek happily.

"It's the circle of life..." Ana hums under her breath. When Elwin turns to look, her eyes are sparkling with amusement.

"The circle of life?" Elwin asks. "A new song?"

Ana clears her throat, looking away sheepishly. "You just reminded me of something. Not that you look like a — never mind that."

"Would you continue singing it for me and Clive?" Elwin pleads, presenting Clive to her. Clive babbles happily on cue. Ana melts under the assault.

From the day we arrive on the planet
And, blinking, step into the sun
There's more to see than can ever be seen
More to do than can ever be done
There's far too much to take in here
More to find than can ever be found
But the sun rolling high
Through the sapphire sky
Keeps great and small on the endless round
It's the circle of life
And it moves us all
Through despair and hope
Through faith and love
'Til we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the circle
The circle of life...

"The circle of life indeed..." Elwin muses. Ana nuzzles Clive's cheek.

-x-

"Can you say Uncle?" Byron asks Clive seriously. Elwin is supporting Clive as the baby shakily stands on his legs.

"Ah-ah," Clive answers, also seriously. Byron grins, and Clive mirrors it. "Close enough! I'll be your favorite uncle before we know it."

"You're his only uncle," Elwin deadpans.

"That's why it'll be a disgrace if I'm not his favorite uncle," Byron replies.

"If you visit more than once every six months, he'd probably learn to call you uncle easier," Ana teases.

"Ah, but trade is booming at Port Isolde! I can't leave for long," Byron admits, looking genuinely sorry. "That reminds me. Your books are selling incredibly well."

Ana blinks in surprise. "We're actually selling them? In this economy?"

"The fact that they're written by the Duchess of Rosaria alone ensures that other nobles will buy them. And, they're genuinely good fiction books, the likes of which haven't been seen since The Saint and The Sectary," Byron explains. "And that is old."

"Mama!" Clive shouts. Ana gently pokes his nose, making him giggle.

"See, Clive agrees with me," Byron says. "I must admit I'm quite excited to read your next work as well."

Ana offers an apologetic smile. "Clive's spending more time awake now, and I have other ongoing projects besides. I don't want to rush the next book. I want to do it justice."

"You'll just have to wait like the rest of us," Elwin replies.

"I suppose I have no choice," Byron sighs theatrically, already having expected that answer.

-x-

"It's as big as he is," Elwin says blankly.

"Clive will grow bigger eventually," Ana replies nonchalantly.

"Right. What is it?" Elwin asks, noting the dark horns on the stuffed toy's head, and the orange body.

"It's Ifrit. I forgot you've never seen him before," Ana admits. "Granted, I've made him as cute as I can, so the accuracy has been shunted to the wayside."

Clive hugged and babbled to his new toy happily, uncaring of his parents' conversation.

"Weren't you working on the Phoenix...?" Elwin asks in bewilderment.

Ana pouts and gestures to a red and orange egg that was half hidden Ifrit's hind leg. "That's what the egg is for."

Elwin picks it up, admiring the fiery colors.

"It's fine. This is fine. I have years to practice knitting the Phoenix before Joshua arrives," she declares, crossing her arms defensively. Elwin envelops her in a warm hug.

"I have full confidence in you, my love."

-x-

"Dada!"

"That is a rock, young man," Elwin says, gently removing the rock from Clive's hand before he could put it into his mouth. Clive frowned, but gave it up easily enough. He turned and crawled away once more, inspecting the grass field of the castle gardens for anything interesting. He picks up another rock.

Elwin, torn between amusement and exasperation, sighs and removes that rock too. Maybe he should order the gardeners to remove all the rocks in the vicinity.

-x-

Something grabs his trouser leg, so he looks down. Clive smiles back up at him.

What else can Elwin do but smile back? "You caught me."

"Dada!" Clive insists, pulling his trouser leg again. Elwin relents and picks him up.

"Very well. Let us be off. We've an important meeting ahead of us, Clive."

Clive gnaws on Elwin's collar. Elwin makes a futile attempt to dissuade him. "No, Clive."

Clive stubbornly ignores him.

-x-

Elwin watches Clive crawl to the piano bench and pull himself to a standing position, then look around as if waiting for something. Or more likely, someone.

Elwin follows his son and picks him up before sitting down on the bench. He lifts the keyboard cover and presses the middle G, catching Clive's attention.

The next thing he knows, Clive is pressing down on all the keys he could reach.

Elwin chuckles. "I don't know why I was expecting something different."

Chapter Text

Clive learns to shakily stand, then shakily wobble in place, then shakily take his first steps. I'm so proud.

Ahhhh, if only I had my phone! A momentous occasion like this needs to be immortalized on video!

Time seems to speed up again, as Clive gets more practice walking. I feel like every time I blink, he's gone, off to somewhere. Maybe I should go back to wearing pants instead of dresses. Or at least dresses with less voluminous skirts.

I amuse myself with the thought of scandalizing Elwin with any skirt above the knees, much less a mini skirt.

Maybe Clive gets away so often because I get distracted, daydreaming about random things.

"Get your hands off him!" I hear as I round the corner where Clive surely toddled off to. I speed up. A quick glance shows me an unfamiliar Bearer — not one of our helpers in the castle, else I'd know her name already — has her right hand supporting Clive, and her left arm being held at a painful angle by her supposed mistress. The Bearer cries out in pain, but her right hand remains steady on Clive.

Clive is startled by her cry, and reaches out to pat her face gently. Ah, what a sweetheart.

I gently disentangle the lady's claw-like grip on the Bearer's left wrist. "Let us not resort to violence, my lady."

The lady gasps as she recognizes me. "Your Grace! Apologies! I tried to stop it from touching, but I was too late!"

"Apology accepted. I'm sure we'll all use this opportunity to learn something today to make better choices tomorrow," I reply with all the grace I could muster. Bitch, she's a person, not a thing! Not an it!

I squat down to pat Clive's head. "You rascal. Stop walking too fast."

He grins unapologetically at me.

To the Bearer, I offer a smile, though I only get fear in return. "Thank you for caring for Clive. What's your name?"

"Emma, Your Grace," she answers in a shaking voice.

"You! Apologize at once for touching Her Grace's son without permission!" The lady demands.

Emma hurries to obey, visibly getting more distressed. "I-I'm truly sorry, Your Grace! He was about to pitch forward so I —"

"Cease your useless excuses this instant!" The lady shrieks, moving her clawed hand as if to pull Emma's hair. In my peripheral vision, Clive puts his hands over his ears, bothered by the shrill sounds.

I intercept the lady's hand in a gentle but firm hold. "As I said, let us avoid violence. If you truly want to make amends, how about entrusting Emma to me?" She'll be so much better off away from you.

It might not be voiced as a demand, but it certainly wasn't a mere suggestion from the Duchess of Rosaria. And so, in short order, Emma gets her life signed away to me.

I make sure she gets assigned a temporary bedroom in the castle servants wing, a decent change of clothes, some food, and a hot bath.

The next day, Clive and I visit her after breakfast.

She curtsies when we enter the small bedroom. I set Clive down, and he wastes no time approaching her, babbling happily at his new friend.

Emma smiles nervously. Hopefully by the end of this meeting, she'll be smiling for a different reason.

"Good morning, Emma. Did you have a good night's sleep?" I ask.

"Yes, Your Grace," she replies. Clive tugs at her skirt, pouting a little when he doesn't get the attention he wants.

"I don't mind if you play with him, you know. I'd rather he doesn't throw a tantrum this early in the day, though that's a rare occurrence anyway," I explain. Emma nods and relaxes minutely, finally smiling at Clive. Mollified, Clive goes back to babbling happily.

"I know I own you now by law," I start. "But I only did that by necessity. I believe people shouldn't be owned by other people. Unfortunately, slavery is something I can't erase out of existence with a wave of my hand."

Emma inhales sharply. "Your Grace..."

"Speak freely, Emma. I won't take offense," I assure her.

"I've only been here a short time, but I can honestly say that I prefer being yours than ...my previous mistress," she says, starting strong and faltering at the end as she no doubt remembers her previous inhumane treatment.

"If I were you I'd be cursing her out loud nonstop by now," I say frankly, aiming for levity.

Emma smiles weakly. "There's young ears in the room, Your Grace."

That makes me chuckle. "So there is. Clive is once again guiding us to be better people."

I sit down on the bed and motion Emma to do the same. She sets Clive on the bed before sitting down herself.

"I don't really need more personal helpers in the castle. So I was thinking of what to offer you."

Emma shakes her head. "Isn't that a bit ...backwards, Your Grace? Shouldn't it be me who needs to offer you my services?"

"Hmm..." I pretend to think. "No."

"...No?" She repeats incredulously.

"No. So here's what I came up with, in the short span of time between yesterday and today..."

I explain about the deadlands farm expansion, and how we needed more farmers. We needed people who can farm, so we'll have the farmers who pioneered the project to teach Bearers. We'll initially provide the land, housing, commodities, and protection for any Bearers who accept the long term project. The farmers can keep the harvested crops to feed themselves, and the duchy will buy whatever is left of the harvest.

It will be a settlement made up of only Bearers. Rosaria will own the Bearers there in name only, goes unsaid.

Emma stares at me with wide eyes. "T-That sounds..."

"Like a good plan?"

"Like madness!" Emma exclaims, throwing her hands up. Clive cheers and throws his hands up too.

"So you're in?" I ask, holding out my hand to shake. She takes it, eyes shining.

Emma is the first one of many Bearers that we acquire in the following weeks.

The project is funded mostly by the sales of my books, which fetch quite a hefty price, and Byron's ever-deepening pockets, because no other councilors wanted to commit. That suits us just fine, because this way, we can run the project however we want.

This can't quite compare to actually passing laws that ensure good treatment of Bearers, or actual freedom for Bearers. But I need Elwin alive, and this minimizes the chance of someone getting offended and hiring assassins to take down my husband.

We'll keep working on the law in the coming years, but in the meantime, I think this is a good compromise.

-x-

I bob my head to the beat as I play Walk Tall on the piano and sing for Clive at the same time.

Life is a lesson that we must learn
If you play with fire you might get burned
If you worry too much
You gonna get stressed
So brush off the dust
And lift up your chest
Walk tall, walk tall
Even if you fall get up
Stand tall, stand tall
Even if you fall get up
Everyone creeps before they walk
Everyone cries before they talk
There comes a time you gotta be strong
So pick up your feet and sing this song...

Clive dances to the music while clinging to the piano bench.

There's no way I'm subjecting Valisthea to "The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round" and other inane, annoying baby songs.

-x-

The less said about Clive's public birthday party, the better. It was more for the noble guests and not for Clive.

The private family affair, however, occurs in the solar, with me playing Happy Birthday and other upbeat songs on the piano, and Clive and Elwin wearing matching Torgal hoodies goofing around, Byron chowing down on the food, and even Rodney relaxing for once, with Lady Hanna (who was introduced to me a month ago) at his side.

At the end, both Elwin and Clive get tuckered out on the carpet, and I take my chance to sketch them.

Chapter Text

Elwin smiles sedately as he hears childish giggles echoing through the castle hallways. Day by day, Ana and Clive drive away the cold and the silence from Rosalith Castle.

Ana's open affection for Clive is a stark difference to Elwin's own childhood, and he vastly prefers her style of parenting.

Anabella Rosfield hated Clive the moment it becomes clear that he's not the Dominant of Phoenix. Considers him a failure and says it to his face.

Ana's voice echoes in his head. Ana spoke those words with so much hate, as if talking about someone else, and Elwin agrees with the sentiment. There's no way his Ana would ever lose her love for Clive. He can't imagine it.

Elwin pauses.

But ...what if it's not his Ana?

What if it's the being that Ana had dubbed as the ultimate creeper? That being can change shape and manipulate powerful people like King Tharmr. Wouldn't it be child's play to manipulate or bewitch Ana, who, aside from her dreams, had no skill with magic?

The ultimate creeper had wanted Clive to break his ties with his companions, to break him. By turning Ana against Clive, hadn't he just started earlier with no one the wiser? After all, if all Clive could feel towards his mother was hate, wouldn't he be happy to let go of that relationship?

Elwin feels a chill run down his spine. How do they prevent something like that? And if they can't prevent it, if the worst case scenario happens, how do they snap Ana out of it?

-x-

Ana opens the latest package from Byron and gasps upon seeing what's inside. She happily holds up the roll of pink silk cloth. "Your brother has an excellent eye. This will look lovely with my skin tone."

Meanwhile, Elwin rubs his temples, which catches Ana's attention.

"Stressful letter?"

"It's from Byron," Elwin says, as if that explains it. "Have at it."

Byron said that he had no experience with magically-addled brains, but plenty of experience with alcohol-addled ones, in which case, the easiest way of sobering them up is some manner of hitting them on the head, be it a slap or a punch to the face.

Elwin waits for the outcry as Ana reads it, but it never comes. Instead, Ana grins impishly. "This is why I love your brother. He gets me. It's a good plan."

"Punching you in the face is a good plan?!" Elwin splutters indignantly.

"Uh huh. Cognitive recalibration usually works on brainwashed people," Ana confirms. "You know. If it's the only choice, you have my permission to punch me."

"Cognitive what?" Elwin shakes his head. "Surely we have other options, Ana."

"Sure. You can disrupt the spellcaster's concentration to disrupt the spell, perhaps, provided you can locate him. Theoretically, You could punch the ultimate creeper, but that has a high chance of resulting in your death. I'll be happy to take one punch for the team," Ana assures him.

-x-

"Rodney tells me you've been spending time with our seamstress, and he had this peculiar look on his face," Elwin notes as they get ready for bed. "He also told me in no uncertain terms that he doesn't want to see or hear me on your coming birthday. Dare I ask?"

"I've been learning how to sew," Ana explains as she gets under the covers. "I ran into Lady Hanna there the other day, so I won't be surprised if she told him about it. And I did work with him to ensure you could have a free day on my birthday."

"And what might my wife be sewing that would result in me needing to have a leisure day? Not that I'm against it. Is it a new dress?" Elwin asks in confusion. He follows Ana under the covers, hugging her close.

"Remember the pink silk cloth from Byron?"

"Yes," Elwin says. "So is it a dress? I didn't think there was enough cloth there, but I am no expert when it comes to dresses."

Ana giggles. "You'll see it soon enough."

-x-

On the day of Ana's birthday, Elwin wakes to a vision straddling him. "Did I die and go to heaven? Or am I still dreaming?"

Ana grinds down, making both of them moan. "Does that feel like a dream to you, husband?"

-x-

"You're not wearing that outside," Elwin demands afterwards. "That can barely be called a dress!"

Ana, head pillowed on his chest, giggles breathlessly. "Yes, dear. It's called lingerie, dear."

"You're not showing that to anyone else. I forbid it," Elwin adds.

Ana giggles louder. "Of course, dear."

Elwin mock-frowns. "I'm serious."

"So am I," Ana replies, finally recovering from the aftershocks. She stretches sinuously, raising an eyebrow at him. "Well, we've got the rest of the day. Any bright ideas?"

Needless to say, they don't get out of bed well after midday, and only because Clive loudly demanded to see his parents outside their chambers.

Chapter Text

I unexpectedly got a request for a meeting from our seamstress, Beth. I didn't commission any new clothes recently, so I have no idea what this is about, or why she requested the meeting to be discreet and off the books. I granted it anyway. Beth and I became friends the moment I started blabbering about wanting to learn how to sew. Our deep camaraderie was built on my frustration with very pointy needles, bleeding fingers, and the lack of sewing machines.

"Your Grace," Beth starts with a curtsy. Then, as she lays her eyes on me, she blurts out, "What are you wearing?!" and immediately covers her mouth as if to take her words back.

I smile indulgently. "Don't look so scandalized. I'm having my monthly period today, and I wanted to wear comfortable clothes. This is a hoodie, deliberately oversized for maximum comfort. And cotton drawstring pants. I wasn't expecting any visitors today, and you requested a discreet metting anyway, so I didn't bother changing clothes since we're just in my rooms."

I'm just wearing my old, brilliant blue hoodie and black drawstring pants.

"B-But! Your Grace! What happened to the lingerie you made?" She protests. "That doesn't look very flattering at all!"

"That's the point, though. I feel crappy and generally disgusting right now, and I need comfortable clothes more than anything," I explain. "The lingerie is fine. It's in my drawers somewhere. My husband has forbidden me from wearing it in the presence of anyone other than him in no uncertain terms."

"A-Ah, I see..." She blushes.

"So how can I help you today, Beth?" I prompt her.

"R-Right! Your Grace, do you mind if I make lingerie for other ladies? It's only that someone overheard Lady Hanna and I talking about yours, and it all got out of control very fast! I'm neck deep in commissions!" Beth complains. "I told them I needed permission to use your design first!"

I choke on air in surprise. "U-Uh..."

I guess I should've known this would happen?

"Please, Your Grace!!!" Beth wails dramatically.

"Alright, alright. So long as you're the one who'll be sewing them, not me," I say.

"Yes!!! Thank you!" She pumps her fist — a move she learned from me after I the first time I managed a decent, only slightly wonky, row of top stitches. "Oh, and if you ever come up with more designs, please let me know, Your Grace! I'll be happy to make them!"

...I have this feeling I just made her the most successful seamstress in recent history. Just a feeling.

-x-

Clive squirms on my lap, grabby hands trying to catch my quill.

"No," I tell him, trying to be firm as I hold the quill away.

"Ma," he whines, hands opening and closing. I hold out for all of ten seconds against his blue eyes. I bring the quill back and gently poke his nose with the feathery tip.

"Boop."

He giggles, cross-eyed. This baby! There's a real danger of this baby growing up spoiled and it will be all my fault! Founder help me.

-x-

I grin as Clive flings his spoon and therefore his mashed carrots everywhere but his mouth.

"My lady..." Elwin trails off, eyeing the carrot-covered mess that is his son.

"He's trying so hard, bless him," Ana coos.

-x-

Elwin presents me with a leatherbound book. "The Undying finally located a copy of Moss the Chronicler's Journal, Ana. I thought you'd want to have a look."

I stare at him in surprise. "I didn't know you ordered them to look for it in the first place."

"I conferred with them a few days after Clive was born. Traditionally, the firstborn son is tested by the current leader of the Undying if he's the Dominant of Phoenix or not," Elwin explains.

"...What kind of test?" I ask warily. The days after Clive's birth were hazy in my memories. This isn't another 'Neville Longbottom gets dropped off a window to test if he bounces or not' situation, is it?

"A simple diagnostic spell revealing a baby's aether tolerance or magic capacity, as well as the element they most resonate with," Elwin says. "In our bloodline, if the baby is the Dominant of Phoenix, this is also when Phoenix manifests a sign, usually a fiery feather."

"Ah. And I assume that's how most people test if babies are Bearers or not?"

Elwin nods. "You seem troubled, my love."

"How many people know that Clive is a Bearer? If he didn't show signs of being the Dominant of Phoenix, then people will assume he's a simple Bearer, wouldn't they? But no one has commented on it, at least within my hearing range."

"The Undying are loyal, Ana. They wouldn't spread the results," Elwin assured her. "We aren't required to declare the results either. Most people will assume correctly that Clive wasn't chosen because we didn't issue an announcement, but they will also assume that Clive has no magic capabilities, like his parents and his Uncle Byron."

I relax. "Okay. That's good."

"The Undying are unknown to our enemies. I saw fit to inform the current leader about your dreams, so they know Clive is the Dominant of Ifrit, among other things. They've been on an information-gathering mission ever since. This is the first significant lead we've acquired," Elwin continues. "We've got time to dig deeper for answers. For anything, any advantage that can help us acquire a better future."

I sink into Elwin's arms. "I wish them the best of luck. The battle with the ultimate creeper is important, but so is the aftermath. Losing all the aether in Valisthea... will probably feel like going cold turkey, now that I think about it."

"...Cold turkey?"

I freeze, staring at Elwin with wide eyes. How do I explain the concept of addiction and withdrawal from addictive substances with recovery from said addictive substances in mind? And then explain how it relates to the temperature of turkey? And then relate it to the aether situation of Valisthea as a whole? How?!

Through painstakingly careful explanation and some far-fetched food metaphors, that's how. It takes an inordinate amount of time.

-x-

"We've been acquiring able-bodied Bearers and sending them to the farm, but I've been thinking... What about the ones who are too sick to work?" I muse out loud.

The deadlands farm has been slowly but surely expanding as the Bearers living there slowly learn how to become a self-sufficient community, especially with the addition of a few carpenters and a blacksmith. We've decided to let the residents name the place, but they haven't decided yet, so as of now, it's just an unnamed farming community. It's probably safer to remain anonymous for now, anyway.

"You're thinking of Martha's Rest from the future, I take it?" Elwin asks, with a happily babbling Clive sitting on his shoulders and waving his arms.

"Can't we establish something like that in Eastpool earlier this time?"

"The more traditional nobles won't care for the contents of the treasury being spent on dying Bearers, so doing it officially would be difficult..." Elwin replies solemnly.

"Everyone's selfish," I sigh, before perking up. "I just got an idea."

Clive pats Elwin's hair, but then moves on to clutching his ears quite tightly. Elwin winces and gently removes Clive's hands. "I'm all ears, now that Clive has mercifully freed them."

I grin. "There's an abbey nearby, right? I told you about that, didn't I?"

"Glaidemond Abbey. Yes, Rodney already scouted it, and says the priest was very kind to him when he visited," Elwin confirms.

"Excellent. That priest will spend time and effort in the future to ease the pain for dying Bearers with whatever medicine was available. My idea is this: we tell the nobles we're planning on researching ways to extend a Bearer's usefulness. Let's establish a medical research facility in Eastpool. If they have more than two brain cells to rub together, they'll understand that extending the life of a Bearer will mean that they don't need to be replaced, therefore they won't need to invest precious funds on a new Bearer. This will be a long-term project, as I don't expect any doctor has ever focused on the stone curse, else we would have a cure by now. We'll accept 'test subjects' from our nobles, any Bearers they've deemed as lost causes and are planning on replacing anyway."

I pause to tickle Clive's foot. Ah, his laughter can lift my spirits up any time. Now on my second wind, I continue. "We'll also need people who are sympathetic to our cause, who will care for the Bearers we send there. Luckily Eastpool already has that priest, and Martha too. Though I'm not sure of her current age."

I stare at Elwin, waiting for his reaction.

"...I love you," Elwin blurts out, sounding dazed and breathless.

I flush. The nerve of this man! Right in front of his son! This is important! "And I love you! But what about my proposal?!"

He caresses my blushing cheeks. "It sounds doable, Ana. I'll write it down for Rodney to peruse. We'll go over it later to figure out the logistics. Every day, I count myself lucky that you're here with me. That you chose me."

Oh, Flames. Dear Phoenix, my husband is shameless. My thoughts scatter to the wind as Elwin leans in to kiss me.

-x-

"You gave me books for my birthday?!" Byron gasps gleefully, clutching The Lord of The Rings trilogy in his arms.

"Yes, whoever would've thought my axe-crazy brother would enjoy reading?" Elwin teases.

"Hey!" Byron protests.

"He's like an onion," I grin mischievously. Ah, it's a shame that no one here will understand my Shrek reference, but oh well.

"Because he stinks?" Elwin grins back.

"Hey! I do not!" Byron complains. "I just had a bath! Is this how you treat me on my birthday?!"

"I meant he has layers. Onions have layers," I relent, patting Byron's shoulder to appease him. "I'm sorry it took so long."

It took so long that Clive already turned three.

Byron shakes his head. "I'm sure these are amazing! And three at the same time?"

"I couldn't leave you hanging, could I? So I had to finish the trilogy," I explained. Truthfully, I'm afraid the books ended up closer to the movie adaptations. But those movies are classics for a reason, and I'm sure they'll have the same impact here in Valisthea.

"You're the best, Ana!"

Chapter Text

Benedikta Harman hugs Cidolfus Telamon from behind and hooks her chin over his shoulder. She presses close, ensuring that Cid gets a nice, firm impression of her chest. "So? What do you think?"

"I don't know why you wanted me to read this, Benna. Seems like a fairly standard fantasy book series to me. There wasn't even an airship this time," Cid complains, waving The Return of the King in the air.

"Is that all you can say? Don't you realize the implications of Rosaria publishing this?" Benedikta demands, releasing her hold on Cid after his clear disregard of her concern. "Don't you see how dangerous this is?"

"You're the Commander of the Elite Intelligencers of our army. You tell me," Cid challenges her.

"Cidolfus! Such threats have to be taken seriously!" Benedikta insists, scowling.

"And how do you plan on doing that, exactly? It took a year to cross our shores, and right now, only a select few nobles have their hands on it. If you tell King Tharmr to declare it banned in Waloed, everyone down to the lowest street rat will know the contents of these books within the week, Benna," Cid scoffs.

Benedikta's scowl grows more pronounced. "You're the Lord Commander! You must be able to do something!"

"Absolutely. I should do something that's more important than obsessing about a fictional book and focus on ensuring that our army wins our battles," Cid declares, throwing the book back to her. "And I'm sure you're going to do the same. Off you go."

She marches out with clenched fists and a tempestuous expression. Cid sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. He lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag.

He didn't lie, exactly. But he has his own intelligence network, one that's only loyal to him and not Waloed. A network that provides better detailed reports than Benna's people. The information he has on Rosaria's moves are concerning, just not in the way Benna's thinking.

Rosaria is setting up a foundation for a better quality of life for Bearers. And possibly a peaceful, nonviolent revolution against the whole of Valisthea, against anyone who ever dared to treat slaves badly. Great Greagor, they'd already set up a farming community of Bearers who are ostensibly owned by the duchy, but in reality are living freer than any other Bearer in recent history. Then there's the retirement home in Eastpool masquerading as a medical research facility for Bearers suffering from the advanced stages of the stone curse. They'd published books promoting self-introspection, tugging at people's heartstrings and morality, urging people to think for themselves, to do the right thing in the name of honor, all veiled in fantasy. At the helm, Cid's sources firmly agree, is the duchess herself.

Sure, Cid could probably order a hit on Anabella Rosfield. Could probably sneak into Rosaria and do it himself, although that would be overkill. But it's the absolute worst move anyone can do, for the duchess is dearly beloved, and killing her would set her up as a martyr and serve as a powerful rallying point. It would do more harm than good. It would inflame Rosaria and possibly force the youngest Rosfield into an uncontrolled prime, even if they have no confirmation that the child is the Dominant of Phoenix. The thought of subduing a baby, even one primed as Phoenix, leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

And truthfully... As someone who freed a slave but couldn't offer her anything better than a bed and a king going down the slippery slope of madness and bent on war... He wishes Rosaria the best of luck in their plans.

Chapter Text

"Mother! Father! The egg broke!"

"Oof!" I groan, eyes flying open as Clive clambered all over me and Elwin, heedless of where his body parts land. It's very dark. Why is Clive awake? Why am I awake?

"Wh-what broke? Clive?" Elwin asks through a yawn.

"The egg! The chocobo egg!" Clive repeats, nearly in tears. "Is it gonna die?!"

Luckily, Elwin's brain starts working then, and he swiftly assures Clive that no, it wasn't going to die. "If you heard cracking noises, that means it's hatching, Clive. Let's see if we can't handle this ourselves and let your mother sleep, shall we?"

He scoops the nearly-five-year-old into his arms, and they disappear into the night. The next morning, I wake up to an empty bed, blinking uncomprehendingly at the loss of my husband for a minute, before I remember what happened in the middle of the night. I walk over to Clive's bedroom.

What greets me is the sight of a sleeping Elwin with Clive in his arms, who is in turn holding a white chocobo chick.

The chocobo chick is awake. I bow to her. "Good morning, Ambrosia. Thanks for guarding my boys while they slept."

"Kweh," she replies, bowing back.

-x-

"Our sources say that Lord Commander Telamon recently adopted a little toddler," Elwin informs me.

I make a face at him. "That's a right mouthful. You could just call him Cid, you know."

"We haven't met. It seems disrespectful," Elwin disagrees.

"That guy doesn't care about formality," I pout. "And more importantly, if he adopted Mid, he should be thinking about defecting soon. I hope. Hm...maybe he needs a small push?"

And so, I set out to start my new book. I can't really think of the title as anything else other than Final Fantasy IX but no one except me will understand that, so... Hmm. Whatever. I'll just call it Nine.

-x-

I hum the Final Fantasy IX main theme under my breath.

...When the plant brain is defeated, the whole forest starts to turn to stone, and as they make a run for it, Blank selflessly sacrifices himself to save Zidane and the others, his body becoming petrified along with the rest of the forest.

My jaw drops open as I realize what I just wrote, and my quill drops onto the page, leaving a growing spot of black ink.

Holy flaming birdpoop. Didn't they unpetrify Blank later in the game? Why did I only remember this now?!

It was a cure called Supersoft... a key item that's presumably a higher level than the usual Soft that you can buy in shops. But they look like potions. I don't think they ever explained how to brew them.

I wrack my brain harder.

Hang on. The classic cure for Petrification in Final Fantasy games are gold needles! I scratch my head. Did they just prick people with gold needles? Surely that's not it.

How does a gold needle cure a curse that turns people into stone?! Why does it have to be gold? Why switch the cure from gold needles to soft, when other in-game cures stayed the same?

How do you remove curses, just in general? A counter-curse? No, that can't be it.

I pace back and forth across the room.

Wait, isn't it usually a blessing? A purification of some sort? And in Final Fantasy terms... Holy.

A gold needle and Holy. A blessed gold needle. A potion. A potion that needs to spread to the victim's bloodstream through an injection needle. Holy water injected via a needle.

I get goosebumps everywhere.

I need to tell Elwin. Right away. Wait. No. I can't just shout this out loud! I restrain myself long enough to write down Inject Holy water via a needle into a patient afflicted with the stone curse.

Then, scrap of paper in hand, I run as fast as I could to the council room, where Elwin is attending another blasted meeting. I hand Rodney the scrap of paper, panting hard.

Wow. I should exercise more.

Rodney glances at it, eyes widening as he reads the words.

"Tell him ...to send ...a stolas," I huff.

"Right away, Your Grace," he replies, and does just that. Whatever meeting I just interrupted, I'm sure it's not as important as the cure to a fucking curse that has plagued Valisthea for countless years!

I see a stolas swoop in through a window and fly back out almost immediately. How long will it take to fly to Eastpool? How long until the priest could bless some water — if he doesn't already have some on hand? What if he can't make Holy water?

What if it doesn't work?

No. It has to.

It has to work.

Rodney strolls back out of the room. "It is done, Your Grace. Shall I escort you back to your chambers? The meeting will likely continue for some time."

I force myself to unclench my death grip on the banister. "Alright."

Before he leaves me to my writing, he asks, "Was it another dream?"

I shake my head. "It was an educated guess. Just something that occurred to me while I was writing."

"I see. Then I look forward to reading your next book, Your Grace," Rodney says.

We didn't get the stolas back that night.

-x-

The next morning, I stuck to Elwin like a particularly stubborn barnacle. I refused to let go of his hand, not that he tried to make me let go. I stayed tense and nervous, standing by his side during his morning meeting. I can't help it. Clive, thoroughly unsettled by my mood, sat in Elwin's lap quietly, glancing at me every few minutes.

Two hours into the meeting, a stolas swoops in through the window. Elwin turns to me with bright eyes and a growing smile and I know.

"Really?" I whisper.

Elwin nods. "It worked."

"Oh, Phoenix! I could kiss you right now," I exclaim in relief, matching his smile. In my peripheral vision, Rodney swiftly hustles everyone out the room, including Clive, who had scampered out of Elwin's lap obediently at a gesture from Rodney.

"That's my line," Elwin says. I swiftly perch myself on his lap before he could stand up and put my words into actions.

Outside, someone asks what just happened. "His Grace commissioned a new needle. I presume it's to do with knitting. It seems it was successful," Rodney answers dryly.

-x-

We travel to Eastpool a week later, the earliest that Elwin could clear his schedule. I wanted to go with him, to see it with my own eyes. Incidentally, this is the first time I've left Rosalith Castle since I married Elwin.

...I bear my hermit title with pride.

We head straight for the medical research facility, and Martha is at the reception. She curtsies, smiling brightly as she recognizes us. "Your Grace! Everyone's eagerly waiting to see you. We all... All wanted to thank you," she hiccups, smiling through tears.

I hurry forward and hug her. "Martha, right? My husband's told me about you. Thank you for volunteering here, too."

"It was nothing," Martha denies. "I couldn't just turn a blind eye."

"No one would have blamed you if you did, but you helped anyway," I replied. "And besides, we still need your help, you know? Now that we know we have a viable cure, we'll send more Bearers here."

Elwin pats Martha's shoulder. "That's right. Thank you for doing your part, Martha."

She nods and takes a breath to steady herself. "This way, please. I shan't hold you up any longer."

-x-

And so we met the survivors of the stone curse. They had all been suffering from advanced stages of it, and all of them now had a new lease on life. A life with the other Bearers in our not-so-small-anymore farming community.

"Please take a new name, to go with your new lives. We'll be marking everyone here as dead to ensure that you wouldn't need to go back to your previous masters," Elwin announces, which results in more happy tears.

-x-

I step outside, blotting my tears on a handkerchief that I embroidered with a red chocobo. Well. It was supposed to be a phoenix.

I made a difference.

My tears continue to fall through the sweet relief.

"Oh, no! Are you alright?" A kind voice snaps me back into the present. I blink. Hey, she looks familiar. It seems she didn't recognize me, however. That's fair. I doubt anyone would be expecting to see the Duchess of Rosaria bawling her eyes out behind a building.

"Oh, uh. Yes. I'm fine, just a bit overwhelmed," I stutter through my explanation.

"So you got the good news too, huh?" She smiled gently, nudging my shoulder. "Call me Isabelle. My Robert and I, we got here a month ago. He's a Bearer too, you see? I was a high-end courtesan from Oriflamme, and I fell in love with him. We fled from his cruel master when they beat him and forbid him from looking at me. We got as far as Northreach, and the local brothel directed us here. They said there was a medical facility in Eastpool, helping Bearers. I could hardly believe it at first, and look at me now!"

"So that's the Robert I met earlier," I murmured. "I'm happy for you, Isabelle."

She takes a few steps back and bows deeply. "Thank you, Your Grace. Without the cure you discovered, Robert would be dead by now."

"Oh... so you did know who I was," I answered in a daze.

"Aye. Your clothes are of a higher quality than anyone else's in the area, aside from His Grace, of course. And the guards were a dead giveaway too," she gestures to the men stalwartly standing around us.

"Oh, right," I reply awkwardly. I search around for anything I can use to continue the conversation and eventually land on, "You said you were a high-end courtesan?"

"That I was," she confirmed.

"Can I hire you?" I blurt out impulsively.

She startles. "As a personal courtesan? By all accounts, all the rumors say your marriage to His Grace is a happy one."

"Wh-what?! Wait! No! Not like that!" I protest as I feel my face and ears reddening. Elwin chuckles as he rounds the corner. "Elwin! It's not like that!"

He pats my head fondly. "I know, dear."

Isabelle courtsies. "Your Grace, it's an honor to meet you. Please call Isabelle."

"Good day to you, Lady Isabelle," Elwin replies. "Please forgive my wife's words. It's just that she's so intent on solving all my problems that she sometimes forgets how it sounds to other people."

"No offense taken, Your Grace. I was merely confused. And I admit I still am."

I burrow my flaming face into Elwin's shoulder and decide to let him do the talking, since he appears to have gotten my idea. Well, I guess we've been married long enough now, so I'm not that surprised.

"What Ana means is that one of my noble councilors has been quite insistent on building a pleasure house in Rosaria," Elwin explains indulgently. "Let's say we build one. We'll need a manager, which would be you, if you're up for it. You can staff it however you please, hire the best doormen, charge as high as you like, pay the staff as much as you want. After all, a high-end courtesan is expensive, and it seems my noble councilors have plenty of extra coin to spare. Better they go to your pockets than stay in theirs, I think."

I take a peek at her reaction. Isabelle's eyebrows are nearly flying off her forehead. "What a generous offer, Your Grace. One I am truly wary to refuse. And yet, I need to ask. What do you expect in return for giving me this privilege?"

"Ah, it's simple, but perhaps not easy to accomplish. Simply... Be kind to whoever passes your doors. Be a decent, honorable person. Help others who aren't so lucky, if you have the means," Elwin says. I can hear the smile in his words.

"And if I don't have the means?" Isabelle smiles back, catching on.

"You can always send a letter to the castle," Elwin assures her. "What say you?"

"I accept," Isabelle confirms.

So. I have a courtesan on my payroll now. Or something like that.

-x-

Final Fantasy IX is my favorite game of the Final Fantasy series. I've played it a lot of times, and I remember it vividly. VIVIdly. And thanks to that, I finish Nine about five months later. The first book stays at home, for our family to read. Both Elwin and Clive enjoy story time before bed immensely, acting out the scenes and generally sleeping later than usual. The second copy of the book goes to Byron, as usual.

However, this time, I send a third copy to Lady Charon, who recently settled in the farming community with a very young Goetz. I signed the dedication "To Cidolfus Telamon" and trusted that Lady Charon will get it to him one way or another.

-x-

Clive stares at my stomach in confusion. "Did you swallow a chocobo egg?"

I snort. "No, Clive. This is no chocobo egg."

"Are you sure? Really? Really really? It's as big as Ambrosia's egg! What is it?" He asks, rapid-fire.

"Kweh?"Ambrosia chirps her two cents from behind Clive. She was rapidly growing, but still small enough to fit through the corridors of the castle, so we let her follow Clive around for now.

"Come closer and feel. This is your baby brother, Joshua," I explain.

He lays his head on my stomach, then quickly steps away with a scandalized expression. "I think he kicked me!"

I laugh. "I'm sure he just wanted you to know he knew you were there."

"How's he gonna get out? Is your tummy gonna crack like Ambrosia's egg too?" He asks with wide, concerned eyes. "Oh no. I don't want you to crack, Mother! Wouldn't that hurt?"

"Kweh," Ambrosia snorts and I dissolve into giggles.

Chapter Text

"We can't tell anyone else," Elwin says sadly. "Not the other nations, especially when they'll likely abuse the knowledge of the cure, and not even our own nobles here in Rosaria, for they would do the same."

Ana bites her lip. "Bearers don't deserve to suffer from the curse when we have the cure easily accessible."

Elwin can't stand the dejection in her voice. He cradles her in his arms.

"They'll just treat the symptoms and carry on treating them horribly until they die in a different way, I know," Ana whispers, resting her head on his chest.

"I'm sorry I can't do more, Ana," Elwin replies, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

-x-

"Rodney, how do you know when your child is ready to ride a chocobo? I don't remember the first time I rode mine," Elwin asks faintly as Clive adjusts the tack on Ambrosia's back.

"Kweh," Ambrosia chirps, flicking her head. Clive nods seriously and adjusts the tack a little bit to the left.

"Kweh."

"Great!" Clive cheers, then proceeds to mount her.

"Kweh!"

"Oh, sorry," Clive says, adjusting his position.

"Kweh."

"I'd say it's about the same time the child learns to communicate to the chocobo in question. Also, I don't have children," Rodney denies swiftly, crossing his arms across his chest.

"You may as well be his third parent," Elwin points out exasperatedly. "And when are you and Hanna planning on having children?"

"Right around the time your children stop giving me headaches, I imagine," Rodney answers dryly. "So basically never."

"Suit yourself. Children are gifts—"

Clive and Ambrosia zoom down the hill at top speed, with Clive shouting gleefully at the top of his lungs.

"—who exist to torment us!" Elwin's heart drops to his stomach. "Oh Founder, what if he falls? What if he gets injured? What will Ana say?!"

Rodney snorts. "That's why we chose a place with only small rolling hills."

Clive tumbles off Ambrosia with a yelp. Ambrosia flaps her wings, alarmed that her rider had suddenly flown off her back. Elwin stares at Rodney accusingly.

"And children are resilient," Rodney continues nonchalantly.

Right on cue, Clive bounces back to his feet, wide grin in place. "That was so cool! Father! Did you see that? Did you see?"

"Of course, Clive. The Lord Commander and I are keeping our eyes on you," Elwin offers weakly.

"It would be cooler if you don't fall off your mount every time we blink, brat," Rodney replies. "That way your mother won't skin us alive when we get home later."

Clive pouts. "I'll get better, you'll see!"

"You better. Otherwise we won't take you with us when we do that next Dhalmekia survey with your uncle," Rodney scoffs.

"Really? I can join?!" Clive shouts. In his excitement, he sways too much to the left, and tumbles off again.

"Kweh!" Ambrosia squawks.

"Oops!" Clive giggles.

Rodney claps Elwin's shoulder. "Only a few more hours til sundown."

-x-

Luckily, a potion is enough to take care of Clive's bumps, bruises, and scratches. Elwin eyes his son as Clive provides Ana's bump with a play-by-play of his afternoon.

"And then Ambrosia turned so fast I fell off again!" Clive flapped the wings of his chocobo hoodie for emphasis.

Also luckily, Ana just appears extremely amused at Clive's antics instead of worried or angry.

-x-

Cid eyes the thick package from Lady Charon. He didn't order anything that he can remember, so he feels justifiably suspicious. But at the same time, he trusts Lady Charon.

Last he knew, she'd settled in the Bearer settlement in Rosaria with Goetz. He rubbed his stubble. Maybe this was related?

"Book!" Mid proclaims from his lap, trying to snatch the package from him. "Book!"

Cid sighs. "Or maybe she sent my precocious three-year-old a book and I'm just being paranoid."

Mid is finally able to grab the edge of the paper wrapping, and proceeds to loudly tear it with extreme prejudice.

The cover contains a colorful ensemble cast, clearly stylized for children. The title is a simple Nine.

Cid sighs in relief.

"Oooooooh!" Mid exclaims happily, examining the colorful cover. Cid leans back and lets Mid look at it to her heart's content.

Eventually, she opens it, and tugs on his collar to catch his attention. He refocuses on what she's pointing to.

"Cid!" She declares.

"Right. Yes. That's... my name. Cidolfus Telamon, that's my name," Cid confirms, sweating nervously.

The thing is, it's not Lady Charon's handwriting. There's no way Lady Charon took the time to write his name in beautiful calligraphy, especially if this book was meant for Mid. In that case, wouldn't it be dedicated to Mid instead?

"Cid, read!" Mid demanded, pulling on his collar again. "Cid!"

And what's worse is, Mid will force him to read the blasted book to the end! Is this even child-friendly? The cover suggests yes, but—

"Ciiiiiiiiiid!" Mid whined loudly in his ear.

"Yes, fine, I heard you the first time," Cid grumbles.

He turns the page. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

...Such a thorough disclaimer. It's making him even more suspicious.

Mid swats his hand. "Ciiiiiiiid!"

He sighs again and turns the page. "Right then. Let's see."

In the Kingdom of Alexandria, Princess Garnet til Alexandros XVII awakens from a mysterious dream...

-x-

Cid closes the book, feeling like he'd been rubbed raw. Beside him, Mid slept the sleep of the innocent, unbothered by the fact her new adoptive father is feeling more unsettled than he can remember in recent years.

There is no doubt that the book was written by the Duchess of Rosaria, for only she could produce such a story. Is it a new book series? Why start with Nine? He couldn't see any significant number motifs in the story itself. And why give a copy to Cid? Why give him a copy of a book that has yet to be released to the masses?

Was it a threat? It doesn't seem likely.

Did they know he made tentative plans for building an airship? Great Greagor, there were three airships in this book, and only one of them runs off an energy source that reminds him of aether! Considering that the airship maker in the story was also named Cid, it was a logical conclusion to make. Not that he knew for sure if his blueprints were viable!

Was that their goal? Did they want him to hand over the blueprints? It doesn't match his intel on how Rosaria operates. They don't even have any notable engineers or mechanics who can make use if the blueprints. If it were Kanver, maybe, but then Kanver wouldn't bother to blackmail someone else, they'd already be trying to accomplish it on their own.

Hell, in a few months, Kanver might actually succeed.

He doesn't have any concrete answers. He's got nothing.

And then, there's the Eidolons, clearly a parody of Valisthea's Eikons.

There are a lot of Eidolons that aren't part of Valisthea's Eight. The method of making them appear is different too.

He can already anticipate all the barbs Benna is bound to throw his way when she gets wind of this book on Waloed's shores.

His head throbs.

-x-

Byron eyes Clive enviously as the child riding atop Ambrosia doesn't even notice the desert heat. "It just seems unfair that all this blasted heat doesn't faze him. Is he even sweating?"

"Isn't it supposed to be the child that whines and complains on trips, and not the grown-up uncle?" Elwin mutters, his normal affability also affected by the heat.

"What do you mean? All I can see around me are children," Rodney asks, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

Clive turns to look back at them. "You're all so slow! We'll miss Joshua's arrival!"

Ambrosia had been going at her top speed. Although not as fast as an adult chocobo, she's still pretty fast. What this means is that before any of the adults can respond, Clive slides off her back at top speed as well. He rolls over several times on the sand before his momentum stops.

Elwin jumps off his own chocobo. "Clive! Are you alright? Are you injured?"

"Kweh?!" Ambrosia chirps, nudging Clive's arm.

Clive groans and shakes his head. "I'm alright, father. Ambrosia. Just shaken."

"Does anything hurt badly?" Elwin asks, patting sand off his son and checking for injuries at the same time.

"No, father," Clive pouts.

Elwin sighs in relief. "Good. Try not to take any more tumbles, would you? Before all my hair turns gray."

"Only if you stop being so slow," Clive grumbles. "What if Joshua arrives and we're not there?"

"Joshua won't be born for another month, Clive. We have plenty of time," Elwin assures him.

-x-

As it turns out, Joshua is born a month early, and they miss the birth by two days. They come home to heartfelt congratulations. Elwin can barely process the words, "The Phoenix has blessed us with its presence once more, Your Grace!" before he's running through the hallways towards his wife and new child.

He stops by the threshold of the room when he sees Ana in the middle of breastfeeding. He takes her in: she looks pale and tired, but her expression isn't troubled. Joshua finishes feeding soon after, and she fixes her clothes with one hand.

"Are you not going to greet your son? After he made sure to arrive early in his impatience to meet you?" She teases. Elwin feels his knees buckle a little bit. It's a good thing that Rodney has caught up by then, and swiftly moves to support him.

Elwin takes a calming breath before moving closer. He sits down on the bed beside her and kisses her cheek. "How are you?"

"Just tired. Nothing sleep can't fix," Ana replies. "Now hold out your arms, Your Grace."

He obliges, and Ana swiftly transfers Joshua to him.

"This is Joshua Rosfield, the new Dominant of Phoenix," Ana announces grandly, only half-serious. "Scared the life out of the midwife by manifesting wings of fire along with his first wail."

Elwin grins, gently running a hand through the sparse reddish-blond hair on Joshua's head. "Already causing trouble before his first birthday, I see. We'll have our hands full with this one."

The door bangs open, showing them Clive and Byron, both out of breath.

Ambrosia sticks her head through the door, looking less winded. "Kweh?"

"Welcome home, you three," Ana says. "You took your time."

Clive stares in shock at the baby in Elwin's arms. "Joshua?!"

Byron gives him a light push. "Go meet your brother, lad."

Clive approaches gingerly and leans on Elwin to look at his brother. "He's got blue eyes like me," he whispers in awe. Joshua's eyes are open, but not focused on anything; he merely got startled from the loud noise.

"That he does, though he can't really see properly just yet," Elwin explains. "Copy my arm position so you can hold him, there's a good lad."

Clive freezes in fear when Elwin's words register in his brain. He fixes scared, watery eyes on his father. "What if I drop him?!"

"If your Uncle Byron didn't drop you the first time he held you, I'm sure you can avoid dropping your brother too," Elwin huffs amusedly.

"Hey!" Byron protests. "I did just fine, thank you very much."

Clive stays rooted to the spot, so Ana takes the lead. "Come sit beside me, Clive. I'll help, alright?"

Clive nods and follows her directions obediently. Soon enough, Joshua is deposited in his arms. "He's so light! I think Ambrosia's egg was heavier than him," Clive says in wonder.

"Kweh?" Ambrosia chirps by the door where Rodney is holding her reins.

"That's because he got impatient and arrived early," Ana explains. "You can let him hold your finger. Go on."

So Clive offers a finger to Joshua, and his brother quickly grabs onto it. Clive grins in amazement.

"I see he's got reddish-blond hair, hm? It fits the Dominant of Phoenix, I guess," Byron observes in the ensuing silence. "Gotta have a touch of fire to remind everyone who he is."

Ana huffs. "Yes, although one can hardly forget, since—"

Joshua starts coughing loudly, alarming Clive. Then, in response to Joshua's distress, intangible wings of fire manifest on his back, shrouding him in a warm healing fire, until he stops coughing.

"—that happens a lot. He has breathing problems, and the healing seems to be an instinctive reaction," Ana finishes as the healing fire disappears.

"W-Will he be alright?" Clive pleads tearfully. Ana hugs him.

"Phoenix is looking after him, don't you see? Joshua will be alright," Ana assures him.

Elwin pats Clive's head. "Your mother is right. Phoenix won't let anything happen to your brother."

Chapter Text

I watch contently as Clive acts out scenes from Nine to Joshua. This extremely cute scene is nearly enough to make me forget about what's happening near Rosaria's northern border.

Attacks from the Northern Territories are increasing. Elwin is currently leading the defense there. As much as I wish they would stop attacking, I know that the North is currently on the brink of famine, with their Mothercrystal recently devoured by the blight, and nothing but ice and snow around for miles.

They're desperate for survival, and extremely resistant to negotiation. Rosaria can't take it lying down. As much as I want Elwin by my side, he's needed on the frontlines.

I'll just have to paint our children for him to see when he comes home.

-x-

When Elwin next comes home, Joshua is already crawling. In terms of development, he started crawling later than Clive, and in fact it seems like he only learned to crawl so he could follow Clive around. Honestly, that tracks.

Elwin picks up the crawling Joshua and raises him up high, much to the baby's delight. "Just like your brother," Elwin notes fondly.

"Welcome home, Elwin," I greet him with a kiss.

"I'm home," he says back. "Clive?"

"Classes. It'll be some time yet," I reply. Elwin nods, moving to the bed and leaning back on the headboard. He helps Joshua stand in his lap.

"Fury Warrick is a blasted stubborn old coot. His daughter Rinoa is much more reasonable, but she can't convince him to negotiate a truce or surrender. He's determined to bring down Rosaria or die trying," Elwin huffs. Joshua drools on his fist, occasionally babbling. "And he'll bring down the rest of the Northern Territories if he has his way."

"...We can't save everyone, no matter how much we try," I murmur, enveloping him in a hug.

Jill Warrick was a political hostage. A hostage only has value if her kinsmen still live. But how many would perish first? The Northern Territories didn't get more than a couple of sentences in-game, and Jill never went back to her homeland.

-x-

"Mother! We found a frog," Clive declares happily, thrusting a frog sitting on his palm to my face. Joshua is clinging to his other hand.

...Dude, you are extremely lucky I'm not squeamish about frogs. But still.

"Clive, it's rude to present things in such a manner to other people," I try.

He blinks at me.

"...It's too close to my face, dear," I try again, with a much better result.

He lowers his hand and his smile turns sheepish. "Oops. Sorry, Mother."

I nod. "Apology accepted. Now, what are we to do with your frog friend? Are you planning on eating it like Quina from Nine? Shall we tell the cook to fry it?"

Clive's jaw drops in horror. "What?! No!!!"

I nod in faux seriousness. "You're right, of course. It might be a person who's been cursed to be a frog, so cooking it might be bad."

"It's a cursed frog?" Clive looks at the frog in his hand in dismay. "Oh, no! How do we remove the curse?"

"Legends say you have to kiss it," I say, biting my cheek to prevent myself from laughing.

"What?! Ewwww!!!" Clive shouts, and Joshua echoes him innocently. I finally lose the battle with my laughter.

-x-

"Your Grace, it seems some thieves recently got ahold of our supply of cookies," the cook reports, lips twitching.

"I see. Thanks for reporting it," I reply with the straightest face I could muster. "Clive, Joshua, did you see anyone suspicious around here?"

Clive, cookie crumbs all over his white chocobo hoodie, shakes his head. In his matching red chocobo hoodie, Joshua, holding Clive's hand as usual, points to Ambrosia with his other hand, who's obediently standing outside the kitchen.

"Kweh?!" She squawks in full affront, feathers ruffling.

"I'm sure Joshua didn't mean anything by it, Ambrosia. I know you're not suspicious," I soothe her. She nuzzles me and settles her feathers. I turn back to the children. "Now, I think it might be time for a bath and a change of clothes. However did you get covered in so many crumbs, Clive? Any ideas?"

"Nuh uh," Clive denies.

-x-

"Why is Joshua sick all the time? I never get sick," Clive asks, extremely upset that his brother is bedridden again. Phoenix's healing flame has already burned the illness away, but in the aftermath, Joshua is still weak and tired, and is currently sleeping it off.

I rub Clive's back in soothing circles. "You have a better vitality stat— ahem. I mean, you have better vitality, a stronger body that can resist illness, unlike your brother."

"It's not fair," Clive mumbles.

"You're right, it isn't. But Phoenix is helping us every step of the way. Joshua will be fine," I assure him. "How about we make something for Joshua? A drawing, maybe?"

"I guess," Clive agrees reluctantly.

-x-

"Doe..." I lead, pressing C on the piano.

"A deer, a female deer," Clive begrudgingly continues. In his lap, Joshua claps his hands.

"Ray..." I continue, pressing the D key.

"A drop of golden sun," Clive mumbles in an even lower voice.

"It's like pulling teeth," I sigh. Well. I wasn't really expecting much. Swords and adventures are naturally more interesting than music or art to young boys.

-x-

I'm working on writing Final Fantasy VII and dearly regretting choosing it. Why did I choose this again? Oh yeah. Mako reactors sucking the lifeblood of the planet. Does that ring a bell, Cid? Is that a clear enough sign for you?

The door opens unexpectedly, and in comes—

"Elwin! You're home!" I shout, quickly abandoning my quill and burrowing into his arms.

"Ana. I missed you, too," he says as he hugs me back. I lean in for a kiss, which he quickly grants. "It's the middle of the night, I wasn't expecting you to be awake at this hour."

"The bed is too cold without you," I admit. "And I was working on a new story."

-x-

"By the Flames..." I exhale in wonder. "It's a baby Jill! Oh, it's nice to finally meet you. I'm Anabella Rosfield, but you can call me Lady Ana, if you want."

In front of me stands Jill, shorter than Clive and a little chubby. She looks at me warily, which is why I haven't pounced on her to give her a hug yet. Her cheeks—!!!

"Did you kidnap her? Isn't it a little too early?" I ask Elwin to distract myself.

"Rinoa handed me her younger sister in a show of good faith," Elwin corrects. "In the hopes that I will raise her better than her warmonger father, who seems keen on unnecessarily sacrificing lives instead of accepting our offer to help."

"Meaning...?"

"Rinoa is planning on a coup and doesn't want her sister to be collateral damage," Elwin explains. "She's willing to work with us instead of against us after she takes over her father's rule."

"Huh. That makes sense," I decide, before turning back to Jill. "Princess Jill of the Northern Territories, welcome to Rosalith Castle. We'll take care of you during the time your sister can't."

She nods solemnly. Aww, you'll look cuter with a smile on your face! Oh, I know just the thing.

"I have two children who would be delighted to meet you. Do you want to come with me?" I ask, offering my hand with a smile.

She looks uncertainly at Elwin, who nods at her. "Don't worry, Princess. My sons are nice—"

Ambrosia zooms through the corridor, Clive clutching Joshua in a deathgrip atop her.

"—little troublemakers! Clive Rosfield, stop that this instant! You could get hurt! Your brother could get hurt!" Elwin shouts, hurrying after them.

I grin at Jill. "Do you and your sister ever do that?"

"Yeah. Sometimes she lets me ride Angelo with her," she answers quietly. "Angelo is her dog."

...If Angelo is anything like Torgal, he's no mere dog.

"Do you want to watch them get scolded? ...And maybe rescue them after a few minutes?" I offer. Jill smiles a little and nods.

-x-

"You're so pretty!" Clive exclaims.

"Pwetty!" Joshua agrees, copying his brother loyally.

"T-Thanks," Jill replies shyly.

Awwwwww. So cute!!! I'm so glad I have a front row seat to this adorable meeting! Alas, Elwin had to go to one of his endless meetings, but I'll paint this for him when I get the chance.

"Do you want to come practice swords with me? Joshua's still too small," Clive offers. Joshua nods sadly beside him.

My eye twitches. Hey. Young boy. What do you think you're doing?!

Before I can say anything out loud, Jill nods.

"Alright. My older sister helps me practice swords too," she says. "She's really good with swords."

"Your sister sounds cool," Clive decides.

"Cool," Joshua repeats.

"...Yes. It's always cold where we live in the north," Jill replies in confusion at Clive's declaration.

So. That's a thing. I guess I should be happy that they're bonding, at least?

Chapter Text

The Northern army attacks more viciously than before, where Elwin expected a lesser resistance or a temporary ceasefire in the best case scenario. He doesn't see Rinoa again on the frontlines, and it unsettles him.

It comes to a head on a cold, moonless night. He jolts awake from a loud crash and finds Rodney grappling with none other than Fury Warrick himself.

Fury, seeing Elwin awake, struggles with renewed vigor. Rodney pins him down with a grunt and finally wrenches his sword away.

Elwin scrambles to his feet, backing away as far as he can from Fury Warrick's renewed desire to claw his face off.

"Give back... My... daughter... I'll never... forgive you!" The man pants, eyes blazing with hate. "I thought... you were honorable, Rosfield! I respected you on the battlefield! And this... is what you do? I know... you have children! How would you feel if they were taken away from you?! How do you think I feel? My Jill..."

He dissolves into harsh sobbing. Elwin feels entirely wrongfooted as he watches the desperate man in front of him.

"You think I was the one who took her...?" Elwin protests indignantly. "Warrick, your eldest daughter was the one who handed Jill to me! I never even stepped foot on your territory!"

"That's a lie!" The man denies instantly. "Do you think I'm a fool? Why would she give her sister to her enemies?"

"Did you even talk to her?" Elwin sighs, scrubbing his face with his hand. "Why don't we have an overdue talk? My Lord Commander can unhand you, so long as you agree not to attempt any more attacks towards my person for tonight."

Fury Warrick is indeed not a fool. He's lost his chance for a surprise assassination, he's lost his weapon, and he's outnumbered. "Fine. Talk."

Rodney lets him go and moves closer to Elwin, staying vigilant.

"Your daughter is spending time — as a friend and playmate, not a Branded or whatever else you're imagining — with my children, with my wife in Rosalith Castle," Elwin says first.

"You expect me to believe your words? Just like that?" Fury demands, eyes narrowed.

"Please. If only. Then we wouldn't be in this situation. I did send you an invitation for peace talks, oh, months ago now. Technically, you can walk into my castle with that and see your daughter for yourself," Elwin answers sardonically.

Fury's nostrils flare as he exhales. "Fine. Then let's go. Right now. I swear on Shiva that I will not lay a finger on any Rosarian as long as my daughter is unharmed."

Elwin groans.

-x-

It's nearly dawn when they arrive at the castle. They gain extra escorts as Elwin leads the way to his children's shared bedroom, where Elwin knew Jill was also sleeping.

He opens the door to a pile of sleeping chocobos on a large mattress that's been laid on the floor: Clive in his yellow chocobo hoodie, sleeping on his back; Joshua in his red chocobo hoodie, sprawled over Clive's stomach; Jill, in a new, speckled gray and blue chocobo hoodie, head pillowed on Clive's arm; and lastly, the only actual chocobo, Ambrosia, who probably sensed their approach and is already awake.

"Thanks for always looking after them, Ambrosia," Elwin says, patting her wing.

"Kweh," she replies quietly.

Elwin turns to Fury, who'd stayed rooted by the door. "Well?"

Fury staggers over to the bed and kneels by his daughter. "Jill..."

He strokes some hair away from her face. Jill, a light sleeper, scrunches her nose at the touch, and squints open one eye.

"Father...?" She murmurs, then scrambles upright. "Father?!"

Fury gathers her into his arms tenderly. "Oh, I missed you, snowflake."

"I missed you too! Did you and sister stop fighting? She said it might take a long time, so I was being patient! Did she come with you?" Jill chatters excitedly.

"No, she didn't," Fury replies, ignoring the other questions at the moment. "Was it really Rinoa who told you to go with Rosfield?"

"Uh huh!" Jill confirms.

Clive and Joshua sleep on.

-x-

Later that day, Elwin watches the children play tag with Ambrosia. Beside him, Fury follows Jill's every move intently, as if trying to burn her image to his retinas.

"I owe you an apology," Elwin says, startling Fury.

"Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"From your perspective... It's reasonable to assume I took your daughter as ransom or worse," Elwin admits. "Your words shook me, earlier. I admit I was getting impatient and irritated with how many times you've refused my genuine offers of aid, of a ceasefire between our countries. I accepted Rinoa's words without thinking through the consequences."

"It would be so much easier to hate you if you're an asshole. You're a far better man than I could've ever imagined," Fury groans.

"The bar must not be very high," Elwin replies dryly. "What are you planning on doing now? Are you taking her home?"

Fury sighs. "Why would I do that? She's happy here. She's not home, but at least she's not starving like the rest of us. Maybe someday when our situation has stabilized."

Elwin frowns, and Fury holds up a hand. "I'll talk to my other daughter. Then, and only then, we shall talk about our countries."

"I see. Then we'll be waiting," Elwin agrees, holding out a hand. Fury shakes it firmly.

-x-

Elwin stares at the bottom of his wine glass, trying to decide whether or not he wanted another.

He hears the sound of footsteps behind him. A moment later, Ana hugs him from behind.

He opens his mouth, but no words come. He can't even bear to turn around.

Ana squeezes him briefly, then leaves to go back to bed. He assumes wrong, when the music notes start ringing through the air.

Then, she starts singing.

However big, however small
Let me be part of it all
Share your dreams with me
You may be right, you may be wrong
But say that you'll bring me along
To the world you see
To the world I close my eyes to see
I close my eyes to see
Every night I lie in bed
The brightest colours fill my head
A million dreams are keeping me awake
A million dreams, a million dreams
I think of what the world could be
A vision of the one I see
A million dreams is all it's gonna take
A million dreams for the world we're gonna make...

Elwin lets go of the wine glass and sits next to her on the piano bench.

"I made a man cry from despair today. Well. Yesterday. Seeing Fury Warrick like that..." Elwin confesses. "It made me question what I've done. What I'm doing. What I was willing to do. How low I would stoop, how much blood I would spill... For you. For our children. For their future."

Ana takes his hands in hers. "They say demons run when a good mam goes to war. There's a few more bits after that, oh Founder, that's probably the wrong saying for this situation, now that I'm thinking about it. But my point is... You're a good man, Elwin. I know your cause is just, because we fight for the same thing, the same dream. And I promised I'd help you, didn't I? I won't let go of your hand even if it's bloodied, because my own will be just as dirty. If I didn't tell you about Jill in advance, you probably would've hesitated and thought about it a bit more, right?"

Elwin gives her hands a squeeze and smiles sadly. "It was still my decision to bring Jill here."

"And I accepted gour decision. I didn't object. I didn't see anything wrong with it. But you did, once you saw it from Fury's perspective. You listened to him. You gave him a chance and trusted him enough to bring him here. And that was the right thing to do. You're not good because you don't make mistakes. You're good because you try to do the right thing, even if it's difficult. You try. You own up to your mistakes and you try to fix it," Ana says earnestly. "And I love that. I love you. I love you so much."

"And I love you," Elwin replies shakily, overwhelmed by her acceptance, her absolution. Ana hugs him again, but this time he hugs her back.

-x-

"Ugh, it's so early," Ana groans when Elwin gets out of bed the next morning. "Come back. It's cold without you."

"That's because you're naked, love," Elwin teases. He picks up her hoodie from where they'd flung it off the night before and hands it to her. "Here. I want to stay, but Fury is leaving soon. I want to organize some supplies that he can bring home."

Ana puts on her hoodie with a pout. "Can I have a kiss before you leave?"

"Of course," Elwin agrees, and leans in to give her a chaste kiss.

Chapter Text

I drop my head onto the desk in frustration. I just finished writing the bare outline of Final Fantasy VII. It's so long. There's so much technology that Valistheans won't understand.

Don't even talk to me about the rest of the works in The Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, or the Remake. I can just... send Cid a stolas, or something. Right? Request a meeting, recruit him that way?

I sigh. No, Cid has to decide to leave Waloed on his own. I just have to make sure that he knows he could come here. That he's not alone on his self-appointed mission of destroying the Mothercrystals. But I have to do it in a way that gives me plausible deniability, otherwise the ultimate creeper might just kill me in my sleep or something like that.

I don't know when he'll defect, or when he'll establish his Hideaway.

Ugh, I'm wasting time. I'm not getting any closer to publishing this book. I need a change of pace. Something to cheer me up. I could really do with some background music right now. The problem is that the music I want to hear doesn't exist in this world, unless I play it. And if I'm playing piano, I'm not writing.

I stand up and head over to the piano anyway. The last piece I learned before Truck-kun happened should do just fine.

Idol only works a little bit to lift my spirits. Ahh, surely season 2 is done by now, and I missed it. I miss so much stuff from the modern world... Why am I being extra whiny today? I don't like it.

I turn back to my desk, rolling up my sleeves. Cid will just have to deal with the vaguest, simplest explanations and some janky, early PS1-style art. If he wants to know more, he'll have to ask me in person.

-x-

Some late nights later, I present the finished draft to Elwin, asking him to let me know which parts are too confusing to understand. "Some confusion is fine, given you can still understand the plot," I tell him. "This is below my usual standard of work, but if I want to finish it any time soon, I have to compromise. And I also need you to make sure this won't be taken as a declaration of war or something stupid like that."

And so Elwin reads it, and I make my final adjustments to the draft. It takes some more time to make it into a book called Seven, then to make copies, then to send one to Lady Charon so she can send it to Cid.

I gladly wash my hands off the whole thing once the package is off to Lady Charon. Cid will come, or he won't. At the very least, he can still establish his Hideaway, seeing as we made sure not to disturb that location.

I stretch my arms up. Ugh. How many months did I spend on that project? That felt way too tiresome. I didn't know writing could be so stressful and energy-consuming. When did I last cuddle my children?

Wait. How many months have passed since...?

I look down blankly. In the back of my mind, a semi-hysterical, half-remembered meme voice echoes: Am I pregant? Am I pragnent? Am I pargant? Am I gregnant? Am I pegnate?? Help!?

"Mother?" A voice cuts through my stupor. I blink to see Clive's concerned face.

"Clive!" I jump in surprise. "When did you get here?"

"Are you feeling well, Mother? You were just staring into space," Clive asks. Oh, Phoenix. Those big blue eyes are deadly cute.

"I just feel a bit tired after finishing my last book. I can't remember when I last hugged you," I tease. He takes the hint and hugs me obligingly. "Look how tall you are already. Ahh, soon you won't want to be seen hugging your mother, hm?"

Clive shakes his head vehemently. "Not gonna happen."

"No? You sure?" I tease as I continue walking.

"I'm sure," Clive insists as he follows.

"Really?" I asked with a raised eyebrow and a grin as we turn a corner.

"Really, really!" Clive insists again, before realizing where we ended up. "Why are we visiting the infirmary? You said you were fine."

I pat his head. "I guess I deserve your suspicion. It's just that I haven't gotten my period in recent memory."

Clive scrunches his nose in confusion. "What's a period?"

Ifrit's balls. Isn't he too young for the talk?

"It's when I bleed monthly," I reply as blandly as I could while opening the door. Maybe if I act like it's nothing special, he'll stop asking?

If anything, he gets more confused. "Shouldn't that be a good thing, if you're not bleeding monthly?"

The physicker looks up from whatever he'd been doing and quickly bows in greeting. "Your Grace! ...Did I hear that correctly?"

"Yes, it's been ...about four months, I'd say," I explain after a short calculation. "I've been quite stressed, so maybe my body just decided to give me a break. Or maybe it's exactly what I suspect it is."

"I don't get it," Clive grumbles. I sling an arm over his shoulder. Patience, young Padawan.

"Ah, it's easy enough to check. Young lord, you're familiar enough with the Scan spell, are you not?" The physicker asks kindly. Clive nods. "I'll cast it on your mother, so we can see the state she's in."

And so he casts it, aether sweeping over me methodically from head to toe. "Oh! Congratulations, Your Grace! You're indeed four months along."

By the Flames! I feel like someone just pulled the rug under my feet.

"What does that mean?" Clive asks, voice just shy of a whine.

"It means you'll have a new sibling soon," the physicker replies.

"Really?!" he shouts, already excited about the idea of a new sibling. Meanwhile here I am, struggling to comprehend the unplanned existence of a third Rosfield child.

...I should definitely invest in whatever version of contraceptives exists in Valisthea after this pregnancy. I knew it was possible for me to have more children, but subconsciously, I didn't believe it would actually happen.

Everything will surely be all right. The power of Sakura Kinomoto and the placebo effect will see me through. My body can handle it. It's not like I'm of menopause age already. I'm not even thirty yet. It's fine. But help from a higher power would not go amiss. Oh, Phoenix, please let it be fine.

-x-

"...stuck in the dark but you're my flashlight..." I pause, considering the word. "Flash fire? Hm. Fire ball? Nah. Flame ball? Flame light? I feel like I'm getting colder instead of warmer. Flash fire it is."

Just as I lay my hands back down on the piano keys, the door opens, and Elwin staggers in. I hurry over to him in alarm.

"Elwin?! What's wrong? Are you injured?" I ask, worriedly running my eyes and arms over him.

"I'm alright, Ana. I'm sorry it took so long to get home," he replies, catching my hands in his own. "We were informed as soon as we arrived - you're pregnant?"

"Congratulations on an incoming third child, Your Grace," I confirm. He kisses me, grinning all the while.

"You're a marvel, Ana," he murmurs afterwards. I pull him over to the piano bench, where we sit side-by-side.

"Do you know, I'm more scared now than ever? This unplanned baby Rosfield shouldn't exist," I say, and I start playing before he can answer.

When tomorrow comes
I'll be on my own
Feeling frightened of
The things that I don't know
When tomorrow comes
Tomorrow comes
Tomorrow comes
And though the road is long
I look up to the sky
And in the dark I found,
I lost hope that I won't fly
And I sing along, I sing along
And I sing along
I got all I need when I got you and I
I look around me, and see a sweet life
I'm stuck in the dark but you're my flash fire
You're getting me, getting me through the night
Kick start my heart when you shine it in my eyes
Can't lie, it's a sweet life
I'm stuck in the dark but you're my flashlight
You're getting me, getting me through the night
'Cause you're my flash fire...

I lean on him when I'm done, and he takes my weight easily. "You're one of the bravest people I've ever met, Ana."

"A small butterfly flapping its wings could cause a typhoon. Every step takes us further from my dreams from back then," I warn him.

"That's a good thing," Elwin insists. "That future could use a lot of improvement."

I hug him tightly. "That's true. How did your trip go?"

"It went well. Northerners are a decent sort, especially to Bearers who can show them how to care for crops on aetherless lands," Elwin says.

"There will be a lot of outcry when the peace treaty with the North goes public. They'll think you've gone insane, for not pushing the advantage and wiping out the Northern Territories off the map," I sigh. "I'm not complaining, at least not about you. I just wish everyone else aren't such dicks. They might decide that this means Rosaria would be vulnerable to an attack."

Elwin strokes my hair gently. "We'll be on guard."

Chapter Text

Cid can feel the prickle of lightning beneath his skin — these days, it feels like it's ever present, matching his growing disquiet and increasing objections to Benna— no, Benedikta's misguided behavior, and Barnabas' descent into madness. In fact, he's just come from another infuriating confrontation with Benedikta, and he can still smell ozone in the air around him.

He stares at the door to his chambers. He can't go inside yet. Not like this. Mid might think he's angry at her, and that couldn't be further from the truth. She's his beacon of light in the deepening darkness—

"Ciiiiiiiiiid! You're so slow!" She opens the door with a bang. "I know you're there! I could smell you, you know?! What are you just standing there for?"

His precious, genius, five-year-old daughter is a bossy little shit.

"I was trying to decide if it was worth seeing your bratty face or not," Cid replies.

Mid frowns. "Did you have another fight with Benna?"

"Unfortunately," Cid admits. "I don't think I can stay her friend anymore..."

"Too bad," Mid decides, pulling him inside by the hand. As if it was that simple. "Just find a new friend. A better one. Now, where did you hide Eight?"

He can hear the capital letter. "What do you mean, Eight? Eight what?"

She gestures to his desk, where she clearly opened a package meant for him. His stomach drops as he sees the simple title of Seven.

"It's clearly a series! So the next book should be Eight, but I never saw that arrive. Where'd you hide it?"

"I never received a book named Eight, Mid. I swear to Ramuh's beard," Cid promises, gingerly approaching the book.

Mid huffs. "Fine. But stop being silly. It's just a book. It doesn't bite!"

Cid gives up and picks up the book. Unlike Nine, the characters on the cover are painted as ...blocky and weirdly pointy. Mid pushes him down to their couch and he lets her arrange him as she pleases, until she makes herself comfortable on his lap.

"The art is all weird, right? I didn't look inside yet, but I like the art of Nine better," Mid says.

"Aye. Maybe they hired a different artist," Cid suggests, knowing even as he said it that all the Duchess' previous books contained her own art. If this was the art style in this book, she meant it to be that way.

Just like Nine, the first page contains "To Cidolfus Telamon" in beautiful calligraphy. The disclaimer on the second page is the same as well. He leans back on the couch, mentally bracing himself for what's to come.

-x-

Nothing could have prepared him for what he's just finished reading.

"This is so... so... annoying! It feels like the author knew more than what's in the book and held back a lot!" Mid shouts, uncaring of who can hear her displeasure. "The descriptions are sorely lacking, but there's a certain logic to all the technology that makes it all seem plausible! And the pictures! Why are the people drawn so weirdly?! The objects are drawn with just enough detail to be recognizable, but not enough details to be truly helpful!"

His daughter is throwing a shrill tantrum using big girl words. Will wonders never cease. He hugs her consolingly as his ears start ringing. "I know, Mid."

"This is cruel and unusual teasing! They better write a sequel! Or a prequel! Or an illustrated dictionary, or a lorebook!" Mid continues. "And I don't think it's even in the same world as Nine! Why make it part of the series?! What happened to Eight?!"

He could scold her. He should scold her. But he agrees with everything she's saying, so why bother?

-x-

Seven stays in his mind for weeks, and he rereads it several times with the same disappointing conclusion: the only way he's going to get answers is by talking to the Duchess of Rosaria herself. Possibly by shaking her by the shoulders and asking her what the hell kind of alcohol she'd been drinking while writing the damn thing.

Otto eyes him suspiciously when he inquires about a possible trip to Storm, to Rosaria. "That can't be for official Waloed business, if you're asking me, of all people," Otto observes.

"No, no. I merely wanted to talk to a friend, who happened to write a book recently. Wanted to ask her a few questions, you know how it is," he smiles winningly.

Otto is unimpressed. "I can smell your bullshit, Cid."

Cid sighs, and removes Seve from the bag where he'd tucked it into. He offers it to Otto. Otto hands him his son, Frederick, in exchange for the book.

The lad sucks on his own thumb. "You're lucky this one's not talking yet, Otto. Once they start, they don't stop," Cid says. Otto skims through the book, occasionally stopping to look at the pictures, his eyebrows climbing higher and higher the longer he goes on.

"Seems like a fascinating read," Otto deadpans a few minutes later. "I can see why you wanted to talk to the author. Anything else you want to tell me, old friend? Joined any terrorist groups recently? Built an airship in secret?"

Cid sighs. "No, I haven't joined any terrorist groups. No one's built an airship either."

"Yet."

"Give Mid a few decades."

"I'll see what I can do about that trip, eh?" Otto says. "And I'm keeping this book."

"Just make sure to return it when you're done, otherwise Mid might blow both our houses into smithereens. She loves and hates that book with a passion."

-x-

"Barnabas—"

"It's King Tharmr to you," Barnabas corrects him imperiously.

"This is madness! You yourself said your mother has been dead for decades! Whoever that being is, you —"

"He's our rightful god!" Barnabas shouts, eyes flashing.

Cid grits his teeth, barely holding himself back from priming. Outside, a storm brews, and they stand in its eye.

"You will cease this tantrum, Cidolfus!" Barnabas growls, promising imminent violence should he be disobeyed.

Cid bows his head with difficulty. He can't die here. Mid needs him. "Apologies. May I be excused?"

"Fine. Think about what you've done, and think about what you can do in the future," Barnabas orders.

Cid salutes. Oh, he'll think about it all right.

-x-

Cid watches Mid and Frieda, Otto's wife, play with Frederick through the open door of Otto's bedroom. Otto's aging parents, sitting together on the living room couch, also look at their grandson with fond smiles.

Outside, the storm brought by Cid's temper rages on, lending a chill to the air as the winds howl and thunder grumbles loudly after each bright flash of lightning.

Beside Cid, Otto scrubs his hand across his face.

"This is madness. And it sounds disturbingly close to a certain book written by a certain duchess that you made me read recently," Otto admits quietly. "Granted, that was technology sucking the lifeblood of a planet, and the Mothercrystals can hardly be called technology."

"It really makes one wonder, doesn't it?" Cid asks no one in particular. "About what else the author knows."

"That reminds me, your trip—"

Loud gasps interrupt them. The two men quickly stride out of the bedroom and into —

Frederick channelling a small, flaming ball of fire above his open hand — poor lad must've felt cold and instinctively reached for fire. Mid and Frieda are looking at the baby in delight.

Otto's parents are both staring at the child in pure disgust. "He's a Bearer!" Otto's father spits out. "A cursed child! Otto, throw him out at once or I shall gladly do it for you!"

Cid feels his control on Ramuh slipping further. "...What did you just say?" He growls, ears filled with static.

Mid runs over to him and it takes him a long minute to realize that she's not trying to strangle him, just hug him.

This genius child is so fucking stupid, running towards the most dangerous thing in the room instead of running away. Who taught her that?

He painstakingly wrangles back all the electricity in the vicinity, losing track of time and whatever's going on around him. He'll never forgive himself if he hurts Mid with an uncontrolled prime. Finally, after who knows how long, he succeeds in stuffing Ramuh and his blasted lightning deeper into himself.

"—we're leaving!" Otto shouts, carrying a crying Fredrick and holding an equally distraught Frieda's hand. Cid nods at his friend. They troop out of the house and into the rain.

"Well. We've got nothing but the wet clothes on our backs, so I sure hope your author friend will find it in their heart to help Waloed refugees like us, and a deserter like you," Otto says as they trudge to the docks. His vest is barely enough to shield the baby in his arms from the rain. Beside him, Frieda is soaked to the bone.

Cid startles. "You're coming?"

"Mid, sometimes you father can be right stupid," Otto notes, making Mid giggle under the leather jacket that Cid covered her with.

"It's a valid question!" Cid protests.

"You think I'm letting my son stay anywhere near whatever heartless beings my parents just transformed into?" Otto barks in irritation.

Cid holds up his hands in surrender. "Just checking. You know I'll be glad to have you and your family around."

-x-

"This looks nowhere near the duchy, Cidolfus Telamon," Otto grumbles, Fredrick sleeping soundly in his arms. Frieda stumbles tiredly after him.

Cid wishes Mid only weighed as much as Frederick. His little girl sleeps on, uncaring of her father's woes. "What a keen eye you have, my friend."

"Why are we heading towards bumfuck nowhere instead of—" Otto stops midrant. They've reached the Bearer settlement in the deadlands.

-x-

It feels wrong, walking into Rosalith Castle in the open, in broad daylight where everyone can see him and his daughter. Emphasis on his daughter, small and defenseless—

"Are we there yet?" She repeats. He's lost count of how many times she's asked.

— so bratty and demanding.

He sighs. It's been a long, long journey. He's barely had any sleep. "I don't know, Mid. It's a big castle. It's not like we'll just stumble into the duchess. I'll probably have to go through some hoops to get an audience."

As they round the corner, they hear a boy whining loudly. "Mother, I'm hungry!"

A small boy in a red hooded tunic is tugging on a heavily-pregnant woman's hand.

"Hi, Hungry. I'm Mother," the woman replies with a straight face, before bursting loudly into giggles.

Cid feels his brain screech into a sudden stop.

"You named your son Hungry?" Mid asks in confusion.

The woman turns and smiles brighter, as if she recognized them. "Oh, finally! Welcome to Rosaria, Cidolfus and Midadol Telamon!"

Huh. So she did recognize them.

"No one calls me that," Mid protests before Cid can open his mouth. "Just call me Mid."

The lady is unfazed. "Mid, then. Please call me Ana. And this is my son, Joshua. He's not hungry."

Ana, as in Anabella Rosfield?

"Oh, so he's not hungry. I get it," Mid declares.

"No! I'm hungry!" Joshua cries.

Mid beams at the frustrated child. "Hi, Hungry. I'm Mid!"

Cid feels his brain leaking out of his ears.

Chapter Text

I lead the way to Elwin's study after a short detour to the kitchens with a child clinging to each hand. Joshua munches contently on a slice of meat pie while walking.

Mid wastes no time giving me the third degree. "I loved Nine. But I didn't get to read Eight. Did you forget to send a copy to Cid?"

Ah, yes. The most important questions first. Children. Gotta love 'em. "I skipped Eight and wrote Seven instead," I answer.

"Whaaaaat? But why?" She whines.

"Didn't feel like writing it. And I thought your father should read Seven as soon as possible."

Mid frowns. "So you rushed it! I knew it! The art looked terrible!"

I chuckle. "It would've taken me years to finish that whole thing properly."

"Eh? But why? That's so long!"

"There's a whole lot more of the story that I didn't include," I admit.

"Awww... I wanna read it," Mid pouts.

Yeah, and I wanted to at least watch the rest of the remakes, but I died too early. "I might just tell you the story and have you write it for me, then," I tease.

"No way. I can't write that well yet! I'm only five!" Mid protests.

"I'm three!" Joshua pipes up, having finished his meat pie.

Resist, Ana. You've already done it once today —

"Hi, Three! I'm Mid!" Mid cheerfully replies. Joshua's upset frown is a thing to behold.

I poke his chubby cheek. "Little firebirb, your face might get stuck that way."

Joshua buries his face into my skirt. "Ahhh, sorry, sorry. I'll stop teasing, okay?"

Joshua nods obediently, blue eyes wide and trusting. Cute!!! I run my hand through his soft hair.

"Don't you mean firebird?" Mid asks.

Cid appears content to let Mid grill me. Then again, we're walking out in the open hallways of the castle, so he probably just doesn't want to ask for sensitive information in an unsecured location. Good call. As expected of the former Lord Commander of Waloed.

"No, it's firebirb," I correct her. In my peripheral vision, I see Cid's face doing ...stuff. If I see his full reaction, I'll probably laugh until I cry. "Joshua is the Dominant of Phoenix, which is a firebird, but he's still small. A baby bird. A firebirb."

"Baby birds are called chicks," Mid argues.

"Chicks are girls. Joshua's not a girl," I reply.

Mid's jaw drops. "That's wrong!"

I grin. "I assure you, I know for certain that Joshua's not a girl."

"I meant about the chicks!" Mid shouts. "It's used for all baby birds, not just girls!"

"Hmm... Are you sure?"

"I read it in a dictionary!" Mid declares.

"I see, I see. Okay then. I still prefer firebirb though. I think it's a cute nickname," I say.

That takes the wind out of her sails. "Oh, okay. I guess. Anyway, do you think it's possible to make airships that operate without the use of crystals?"

Little girl, how did your mind jump from firebirb to airships? "Hmm... That depends."

"On what?"

"Do you want to build an airship like that?"

"Yeah! That'll be awesome!" Mid answers instantly with no hesitation.

I smile. "Then I believe you can build one in the future."

"Really?! Wow!!!" Mid cheers. She lets go of my hand and glomps onto Cid's waist. "Cid!!! Did you hear that? I'm gonna build an airship!"

"Aye, aye, captain. Maybe when you're taller than me," Cid replies. "That way you can see over the helm and actually steer it."

We arrive at Elwin's study before Mid can steer the conversation into more dangerous waters. I wait for Elwin to acknowledge my knock before trooping in with my new entourage.

"Elwin! Guess who I found?" I ask, happily gesturing at the exhausted father and the peppy daughter clinging to him. "Meet Cid and Mid Telamon."

Elwin stands and offers a hand to Cid. "Welcome to Rosaria. I see my wife's plan finally bore fruit."

Cid shakes the offered hand. "It's nice of you to not throw me and my daughter into your dungeons first thing, Your Grace."

"Just call me Elwin. Rest assured that with what my wife has told me about you, there was never a chance I'd do that," Elwin replies. Joshua hurries over to him and hugs his leg. Elwin ruffles his hair fondly.

"Am I allowed to know what she told you, exactly? What was the plan? And what is this whole thing really about?" Cid asks dryly. "I have my own guesses, but some confirmation would be nice."

Elwin hobbles over to the bookshelf behind his desk while Joshua does his best impression of a giggling barnacle and takes out a book. "Well, if you guessed that we knew the Mothercrystals were causing the blight and we wanted your help in destroying them, you guessed correctly. There are also some other things."

Elwin offers the book titled Sixteen to Cid.

Cid looks so done. So done. I cover my mouth with my hand, but I'm sure my shaking shoulders easily give me away.

He takes the book, but not before throwing me a heatless glare at me. "Really?"

Elwin throws an arm over my shoulder.

Mid tiptoes and grabs Cid's arms to see the title. "Sixteen?! Your numbering makes no sense!"

"T-That one was technically written first," I say, barely holding back my giggles at the indignant expressions on both father and daughter.

"Then why not start with One?!" Mid demands.

I lose the battle. What can I say, I'm a giggly bitch. "S-Sorry," I say a minute later, breathing hard and leaning on Elwin's shoulder.

Elwin rubs my arm up and down. "Please forgive my wife. I've learned not to question the titles over the years."

He gestures to the couch by the wall, something we added to the study a few years back. "Please make yourself comfortable. But, ah... Sixteen wasn't exactly written for entertainment. There are some sections that might be too distressing for Mid," Elwin warns. "It would be better not to let her read it at this age."

"Eh? Not fair!" Mid protests.

Cid nods and turns to me. "And you can't just tell me this yourself? Would save us a lot of time."

I flinch and look away. "I can, but I'll probably have a breakdown, and I've been told distress is bad for the baby."

You think I can tell this legend to his face that he'll die saving my son?! Hell no. And that's just the tip of the iceberg of the absolute bullcrap that happened in canon!

Elwin speaks, taking Cid's attention off me so I can breathe again. "What you're holding is a true account of certain events, as close as we could get it to how Ana told us about it on the day after my eldest was born. It was penned by me, my brother Byron, and my Lord Commander, Sir Rodney Murdoch. Unlike the other books, it is not fiction. If you still prefer not to read it, I can discuss it with you instead, but I will ask that you let Ana and the children leave for the duration of that conversation. I promise you that no harm will come to your daughter."

Cid takes a moment to consider. He turns to his daughter, face 100% serious. "Mid, go with the Duchess for now, alright?"

Mid pouts but nods obediently. I take her hand and Joshua's. "There's two other children here who will be happy to meet you, Mid. Let's leave the adults to their business, hm?"

"We're gonna see Clive and Jill?" Joshua asks excitedly.

"Yeah, firebirb. I think Jill can skip her etiquette lessons and Sir Rodney can spare Clive for today," I declare. Joshua cheers.

Cid says, "I'll read the book and ask questions as they occur to me."

"Fair enough," Elwin agrees. As we leave, I see Elwin pouring a glass of wine and handing it to Cid.

He'll need more than just a glass.

-x-

Off to Jill we go. Mid regains her tongue about five steps along the way.

It's just an absolute deluge of questions that only stops when I park Jill in front of her. "Princess Jill Warrick, meet Midadol Telamon. She's five, and really smart."

Mid gapes.

"Mid, this is Jill Warrick, Princess of the Northern Territories," I continue.

Jill curtsies, well on her way to the elegance she exhibited in the game.

"You're a princess?! An actual princess?!" Mid screeches with stars in her eyes. "Wow!!!"

I smile smugly. One to go.

Mid completely forgets me in the ensuing walk to the bailey where Clive is practicing diligently under Sir Rodney's eagle eyes. I know she'll remember I exist eventually, but I'll enjoy the reprieve while it lasts.

When we arrive, Clive takes one look at the unknown girl talking to Jill and looks at me suspiciously. "Did you kidnap another child, Mother?"

I pretend to clean my ear. "What's this slander from my favorite child? I have never in my life kidnapped a child, so how can I kidnap another?"

"Her Grace speaks truly. I seem to remember that it was your father that did it the first time," Rodney says. "You're excused for the day, Clive."

Clive perks up at that and replaces his wooden training sword on its stand. "Oh! Thanks, Sir Rodney!"

Rodney shoos him away. "Off you go."

I put a hand on Clive's back. "Allow me to introduce my son, Clive. Clive, this is Midadol Telamon."

Mid smiles good-naturedly. "Hi! Call me Mid!"

She holds out her hand for a handshake, and Clive, who's already mastered most of the etiquette lessons that Jill is currently going through, bends a knee and kisses the back of her hand lightly.

"My lady," he says. "It's an honor to meet you."

"W-Wha—?!" Mid jumps back.

Aaaaaaaaa it's even cuter now than it was in the game when she met Joshua!!! Oh Phoenix!!! I cover my mouth to make sure I keep all my squeals internal.

Rodney approaches me. "Telamon? The same as Lord Commander Telamon of Waloed?"

"Oh, yes. Elwin's with Cid in his study. They could probably use your moral support, Sir Rodney," I reply.

Rodney salutes. "Then I shall go, Your Grace."

Chapter Text

He stares at the dainty hand on his shoulder, then follows the arm up to the body and the face it belonged to. "Oh, Ana! Love you!"

Ana smiles fondly. "If you had a tail, it'd be wagging. Love you too, dear. Did you at least cover the important stuff before you got Cid drunk off all that whiskey?"

She gestured to the empty bottles of wine and whiskey on the desk.

"M'not drunk!" Cid protests loudly, his cheek smushed into the scabbard of his sword.

"Could've fooled me, what with how you're hugging your sword," Ana replies. "Sir Rodney, have they had any bite to eat tonight? Or are their stomachs full of only alcohol?"

Rodney, who couldn't join the fun this time, is stone-cold sober as he answers Ana. "Yes, they've eaten dinner, Your Grace. Though the servants have already taken the plates away to be washed."

"Thank the Founder. Alright, dear. Have some water," Ana says, handing him a glass. Elwin obediently drinks the water in it. Ana takes the empty glass. "Up you get. It's time for bed."

-x-

In the morning, he wakes to someone jumping on his stomach and narrowly missing his family jewels. He opens an eye just enough to see reddish blond hair. "Oof. Joshua. Why," he groans through the pounding headache.

"Father! Wake up! It's time for breakfast!" Joshua shouts. Loudly.

"Have mercy, Joshua. Please lower your voice," he begs.

"Oh, sorry," Joshua says in a loud, exaggerated whisper. "Mother said to give you this!"

In Joshua's hand is a potion. Elwin takes it post-haste. "Your mother came from the heavens, let no one ever tell you otherwise."

Joshua giggles.

-x-

Breakfast is especially lively, owing to the two newcomers in their midst. Midst. Ha. Ana will be proud.

"—and I got to ride Ambrosia, but you weren't there so you didn't see me, but I wasn't scared—"

"What did I do to deserve this? It's too early in the morning for you to be so cheerful, brat!" Cid groans, but everyone can hear the fondness in his voice.

"S'not my fault you got drunk yesterday!" Mid protests immediately, already used to the light scolding and brushing it off easily.

Elwin eyes his children, who are all watching the show avidly. While Elwin tried not to be as formal and detached as his parents, and Ana was very affectionate, Cid's parenting was ... unique. He doesn't blame his children for being entranced by the sheer irreverence that Mid treats her father with. Disrespectful behavior like that could never be allowed in the sons of the Duke and Duchess of Rosaria, but it worked for Cid and Mid.

"Morning, all," Elwin says, taking his chance in the short lull. As he gets return greetings, he thinks of the future. The discussion with Cid was hardly over with.

-x-

"So. Here we are," Cid starts, once they're back in Elwin's study.

"You've processed the situation awfully quickly. I thought you'd take at least another day," Elwin notes.

"Don't sound so surprised. I admit this all seems like insanity, but I didn't defect from Waloed for shits and giggles. I received corroboration for my theory about the Mothercrystals. And now I know who's manipulating Barnabas," Cid sighs.

"Speaking of King Tharmr, what are the chances that he'd attack Rosaria for harboring you?"

Cid waves his hand. "What do you take me for? I made sure we weren't followed or seen. I wouldn't risk my daughter, or my friends, for that matter."

Elwin raises his eyebrows. "Friends? I was given to understand that you only had Mid with you when you arrived at Rosalith."

"We crossed the ocean with Otto, his wife, and his one-year-old son Frederick, who recently discovered his magic talents," Cid explains. "I dropped them off at your farming community."

"The same Otto from the Hideaway, I presume. I can't say I'm surprised you knew about the farm. A bit disappointed that word got out, but not surprised," Elwin exhales.

"Yes, well. Only because I have the best informants in Valisthea," Cid assures him. "Waloed's own Intelligencers, headed by Benedikta, haven't gotten even a single whiff, and I'd wager the other countries are in the same boat."

Elwin untenses a little bit on his seat. "By 'the best informants' I assume you mean Gav? And whoever else he's working with?"

"Aye," Cid confirms, but doesn't elaborate. "That aside, what's the plan for the Mothercrystals, Your Grace? What's your plan for me, specifically?"

"Just call me Elwin. I've only known you for two days and I already know titles don't sit well with you," Elwin insists.

"I'll keep that in mind, Your Grace," Cid replies.

"Suit yourself. I suppose I can't blame you for being wary of getting closer," Elwin allows. "As for the plan... we've got three children, Cid. They might be Dominants, but they're children. I won't send them off to war. Or to a suicide mission."

"You've had all this time, all this knowledge, and all you've decided to do is to wait for your children to grow up," Cid scoffs.

"Not quite. We've been busy planning for what will happen when magic leaves Valisthea," Elwin corrects him without heat. "With Ana's help, we've drafted laws to emancipate Bearers, a bill of rights, a philosophy to strive for—"

"Yes, but we have to get there first. You have a fully-trained Dominant on your side now," Cid interrupts. "I suggest you use the tools you've been given before they rust in the toolbox."

Elwin frowns. "You're not a tool, Cid. And what's that about rusting?"

"Aren't I?" Cid challenges. "Why else would Lady Anabella go through all that effort to recruit me otherwise? I assume she meant for me to somehow cobble together a working airship, and with all the emphasis on electric power in Seven, something to do with that as well. Not to mention I could sneak into the Iron Kingdom and destroy Drake's Breath right now. They don't stand a chance without a Dominant. And Sanbreque currently doesn't have a fully-grown Dominant, so I could destroy their Mothercrystal solo as well. The Crystalline Dominion is similarly unprotected by any Dominants as long as the peace treaty is in place, so I should aim for Drake's Tail third, seeing as that would violate the treaty. Dhalmekia will surely take offense to any attacks aimed at Drake's Fang, especially since you have the Southwestern Alliance going on, and they'll no doubt deploy Titan. And Drake's Spine should be tackled last, as the most dangerous of all."

Elwin crosses his arms across his chest. "I didn't know Lord Commander Telamon could be this arrogant or this foolish."

"I've earned my arrogance, my pride, my control. And I didn't hear you denying it," Cid replies. "Didn't hear you offer any alternatives either."

Elwin nods. "The airship is mostly a pipe dream—"

"For now. But the Enterprise isn't. For all that it's currently just a twinkle in my eye, now that I know Mid was able to make it work, I know I can do it too," Cid insists.

"Put that thought aside for now," Elwin acquiesces. "We are not in dire need of a ship. Or an airship. Same goes for electricity."

"But the rest of it? You know I'm right," Cid demands, leaning over Elwin's desk for emphasis. "It has to be me."

"Not alone, no," Elwin refutes. "You could use a team, or at least a partner. You're not doing it alone."

"Sure, once you find someone who can keep up with me," Cid replies, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

Elwin claps his hands together. "Excellent. Glad we agree on that. Now—"

"T-That's not what I meant and you know it!"

Elwin carries on through Cid's spluttering. "—how bad has your stone curse progressed? The truth, if you please."

"...I can still use my left hand. It's nowhere near as bad as it was in Sixteen," Cid reluctantly answers. "It hasn't spread to my arm yet. I only use Ramuh when necessary. My other skills are more than enough to handle most things in my way."

"Good to hear. But it could be better," Elwin says.

Cid looks sceptical. "And how do we do that?"

Elwin smiles smugly. "Seems like my people can still keep some things off the radar, even from Valisthea's best informants."

"Oh? I'm listening," Cid drawls expectantly.

"I suggest paying a visit to Eastpool. It would be best to see it for yourself," Elwin replies.

"And what's in Eastpool, exactly? Aside from the not-so-secret Bearer retirement home pretending to be a medical research facility? ...Wait. You're not saying the research bore fruit, are you?" Cid demands. "If any medicine that can slow down the stone curse has been discovered, it would be all over Valisthea by now!"

"You're right, the research in Eastpool didn't bear fruit. Mostly because there aren't any researchers there in the first place. It's only a front, as you already know," Elwin agrees.

"So what's there for me to find?"

"Just because the research there didn't bear fruit doesn't mean we didn't discover the cure anyway through other means," Elwin explains. He carefully hands an injection needle filled with Holy water to Cid, which the latter accepts and raises up to his eyes for scrutiny.

"You're serious," Cid utters in sheer disbelief. "An actual cure? Not just something to slow it down?"

Elwin nods. "As long as the Bearer isn't fully stone yet, and their heart is still pumping blood. I'm told that in the worst cases, injecting Holy Water directly to a Bearer's heart has worked wonders. A full recovery."

Cid clutches the injection needle tightly. "I'm going to Eastpool. You're right, I have to see it for myself."

"We'll take care of Mid in the meantime. Unless you want to bring her with you."

Cid shakes his head. "No, let her enjoy the hospitality of Rosalith Castle. It's better than the Waloed barracks, that's for sure. And... Who discovered the cure? You said there were no researchers in Eastpool. I want to meet them."

Elwin smiles, fully besotted at the thought of his wife. "You've already met her. It's Ana."

Chapter Text

It's getting harder to do anything in general with a huge baby bump in the way. I certainly can't go chasing Joshua all over the castle these days with how big I am. Luckily, Mid is still so amazed at meeting an actual princess that she didn't mind joining Jill in her classes today, and Clive is attending different classes most days, so they're all accounted for. In contrast, I haven't seen Cid after breakfast, so I ask Elwin.

"He left? Oh..." I pout. "Maybe I teased him too much and made him too uncomfortable..."

"Nay, he simply wanted to see the cure being used in Eastpool before using the one I gave him," Elwin says, hugging me as close as he can with my baby bump in the way.

Man, cuddles in bed after an eventful day are really great! But they don't stop me from worrying, which Elwin notices.

"He'll be back soon, Ana. After all, Mid is here, and he loves her," Elwin assures me.

"That's true. But also not as reassuring as you think it is. After all, he sent Mid to Kanver last time, sacrificed himself, and died without seeing her," I reply. Elwin opens and closes his mouth, hesitation clear in his features. "What is it?"

"He was raring to do something about the mothercrystals before I even had the chance to tell him about the cure. He even volunteered to go alone," Elwin admits. "I managed to trick him into agreeing to wait until he has others who can go with him. And then I gave him the cure. He decided to go to Eastpool after that."

I rubbed my forehead, trying to stave off the oncoming headache. Elwin, you sweet summer child. "Did you already have anyone in mind who could accompany him? Because he's going to get healed at Eastpool, and he's going to feel great. A new lease on life and all that. Untouchable. And he'll likely detour to whatever Mothercrystal he decides to target first."

Elwin's expression turns graver with each word. "I apologize, Ana. It never even crossed my mind that he could do something like that. As for who could accompany him... I was hoping you'd have a suggestion. He did mention that his first choice is Drake's Breath."

"At the very least, he'll ask Gav for help in finding a relatively safe route. But to face the Liquid Flame that's guarding the Mothercrystal's heart... He'll insist on doing it alone. Who can we send to Mt. Drustanus post-haste who can serve as support? A physicker, for immediate medical attention after the fight? An Undying carrying a whole apothecary's worth of potions maybe?"

Oh, crap. I just remembered Jote existed. Though that doesn't really help right now since she's about the same age as Joshua, but something to think about in the future.

I continue my train of thought. "We also need to provide a distraction to the Iron Crusade to give him a chance to sneak in."

"I see. Then that's what we'll do," Elwin decides, squeezing my hand before rising off the bed. "I shall inform Rodney at once. We need to mobilize our army."

I frown in dismay. "It's the middle of the night... I'm sorry, Elwin."

Elwin squeezes my hand again. "It's not your fault. I know very well that Dominants are a law unto themselves. You've simply enlightened me on the Dominant of Ramuh's next moves. Rosaria has a long history of conflict with the Ironbloods. We shall take this opportunity to end it once and for all."

And so there goes my husband.

Cid, what is this insane pace?! No respect at all for the timeline! If my husband dies on the frontlines—

Well. I'll definitely cry. It'll be pathetic.

And if Cid dies... It'll mostly be his fault, but a part of me will always blame myself.

-x-

It takes time to mobilize an army, especially at such short notice in the middle of the night. It's nearly daybreak when they leave, with only a skeleton force staying in the castle to guard us.

As the sun peeks over the horizon, I sit down on Clive's bed, not wanting to be alone. Clive sleeps on, as does Joshua in the other bed in the room.

Jill and Mid are having a sleepover in Jill's room.

At least I'll have more time with Clive, now that Sir Rodney isn't here to train him.

When the sun's rays fill the room, Clive wakes.

"Good morning," I greet him.

"Mother? Good morning," he replies. "Is something wrong?"

"It's going to go very wrong, or very right. I don't know yet," I say, and explain the situation as best I can.

"...Oh, okay. Mid says her father is the best, so don't worry, Mother," Clive says earnestly. "Everything will surely be alright."

That right there is the face of a child who has never been disappointed by the adults around him, still trusting that they have all the answers and can take care of everything.

Also, did I quote Sakura Kinomoto in his hearing without noticing? Or did he come up with that by himself?

The only correct response is to agree, so I nod and attempt a small smile. "Will you help me look after the other children?"

Clive grins. "Of course, Mother!"

-x-

If only fast travel can be used by normal humans. I have no choice but to wait for the next few weeks, but still... Isn't there something I can do? Something productive to the plot?

Aside from knitting Mid her own cream-colored chocobo hoodie, that is. And indulging Mid's endless questions. And letting her tinker with stuff. I have no idea what she's making. I'm really getting the "Let me see what you have!" meme except, yknow. It's probably worse than a simple knife and I wouldn't understand whatever it is. I choose to believe she's using her mind for good instead of evil. I choose not to ask for plausible deniability. And my own sanity.

Rosalith Castle doesn't officially have a tech workshop, but give Mid a few months and her assigned bedroom will probably be renamed as such. She usually sleeps with Jill.

Mid doesn't show it during the day, but I'm sure it hurt her when Cid left without telling her anything. Stupid Cid! You'll give your child separation anxiety!

"Mid is clingy at night," Jill says when I ask her. "That's alright. It's like having a little sister! I used to sleep beside Rinoa too."

I pat her head softly, careful not to mess up the neatly-brushed hair. "Thank you, Jill."

As it turns out, the one who ends up acting out the most is Joshua. He's too young to really understand why Elwin is gone, and he's jealous of any attention paid to Mid instead of him.

It leads to a game of hide-and-seek that spans the whole castle, where an upset Joshua runs off and hides, and Clive has to find him and bring him back. It also leads to another bout of fever and sickness when Joshua chooses his hiding spot a little too well — somewhere on the castle roof, like he's an actual baby bird — and it takes not just Clive, but the whole castle, several hours to find him.

Of course, Joshua eventually healed himself instinctively, but the toll on his energy level is high, so he's still tired. At least he won't turn to stone the moment I look away because of the Holy water that we always make sure to have in stock.

The next day, I gather all three healthy children in Clive and Joshua's room. On the bed, Joshua pouts sullenly at Mid's presence.

"Right. Listen up. I don't want any of this ever happening again, okay? So, we're staying here until Joshua gets over his jealousy and bonds with Mid," I declare, hands on my hips. I'm not sure my baby bump helps my image, but they'll just have to deal with it.

The outcry of surprise is ...not quite music to my ears, but that's fine. I pull out my trump card. Or should I say, cards.

A standard deck of 108 Uno cards, to be exact. I worked on it the night before while keeping vigil over Joshua.

"Joshua and Mid are going to team up, while everyone else plays for themselves. Here's how to play..."

So how long does it take for Joshua and Mid to bond? Just one game where Mid steamrolls all of us, is the answer. She had to be counting cards. Or something. Joshua enjoys the win all the same.

"You know what to do in this situation?" I ask. The two children look cluelessly back at me. "You raise your right hand up!"

I demonstrate. Mid follows obediently, while Joshua takes his time. I nod grandly. "Then, you hit each other's palm. It's called a high five! Teammates do it when you win in a game, for example."

Mid catches on quickly, as expected. She high fives me with a grin, then turns and presents her hand to Joshua.

Joshua gives in and gives her a high five. With how loud it ends up being, I'm sure it stung Mid, but the two of them are smiling at each other by the end.

"I want another game!" Clive demands, competitive fire in his eyes.

Jill nods vigorously. "Yes, please! I wanna win too!"

-x-

Byron comes to the castle as my due date nears. He is summarily schooled on Uno and conscripted into acting out scenes from my books as punishment, along with anyone else who lost that day. Mid continues to be OP and Joshua refuses to play if she's not his partner.

-x-

Word spreads that Drake's Breath has been destroyed. Eyewitness accounts of Ramuh at the scene make a lot of people point fingers at Waloed, even if Rosaria's army is right there on the shores fighting the Iron Crusade. After all, the latter is normal, even expected. The former, however... The general consensus is that Waloed has no reason to help Rosaria, so it must have been a sneaky strike from Waloed, taking advantage of the other two countries' preoccupation to take out the Mothercrystal and cripple both Rosaria and the Iron Kingdom in one go.

That fiasco doesn't make the Iron Kingdom surrender, so Elwin still isn't home when I give birth to a healthy, black-haired baby girl, my Aria, my little song of hope. Thank the Phoenix that it's not a blonde boy. I made sure I'm always too busy to think of 'what-ifs', but even then, the thought persisted: What if it's Olivier? Giving birth to a girl instead is a huge relief.

I help Joshua sit and lean against me before teaching him how to hold his baby sister. He gently pokes her cheek, and she responds by opening her eyes.

"Woah!" He exclaims in wonder.

"You're a big brother now, Joshua. Take care of her like Clive takes care of you, okay?" I ask, running my hand through his curls.

"Yes, Mother!" He agrees vehemently. Then, Aria squirms from the loud noise and Joshua startles so badly that Clive has to rescue her before she can fall.

Chapter Text

Cid warily trudges into Rosalith Castle alongside the victorious Rosarian Army.

A stolas had been sent ahead of time to the duke's brother, Byron, so the people at the castle knew they were coming.

A few more steps, and there's Mid, right beside the duchess and her flock.

And since Mid is Mid, she finds him with unerring accuracy and locks gazes with him.

Her face crumples, and all the satisfaction he felt for a successful mission gets replaced by double the amount of guilt. She runs over to him, and by the time he gets her in his arms, she's sobbing louder than he'd thought possible. His mind blanks.

"Mid, I—"

"You left without saying goodbye!"

"I—"

"You didn't tell me where you're going!"

"I—"

"Don't leave me again!" She demands, tears streaming down her face. Greagor's saggy tits, he feels like someone's squeezing his heart. He should probably get that checked.

He can't promise not to leave. "Mid—"

"For a year!" Mid adds, and his brain stalls again.

"What?"

Mid frowns. "11 months!"

"You—"

Her frown grows. "10 months!"

"You're bargaining?" Cid says incredulously.

She gives him a truly thunderous look. "9 months, and that's final! Or else you'll miss my next birthday!"

Cid exhales and hugs her tight. I'm sorry about leaving without telling you, Mid. I don't know when my next mission will be—"

"It's definitely not happening anytime before her birthday," the duke— alright, fine, he'll start calling him Elwin— says in his peripheral vision.

"—I promise I'll stay until then," Cid continues, wiping away Mid's tears. She grins brightly, before slithering out of his embrace. She stops in front of the duchess— if he's being familiar with Elwin, might as well do the same for the man's wife— Ana, and raises her hand. Ana slaps it with her own hand and proceeds to praise her success.

Was she acting? It looked so real.

"I've been had," Cid mutters under his breath.

"Well, you did leave your daughter with my wife," Elwin comments, lightly rocking the baby Rosfield in his arms. The lucky guy got through his own reunion with his family with minimal tears. "While you can't call her a bad influence, she's certainly unique. Anyone who spends a lot of time with her ends up being affected in some way."

Cid sighs. "I suppose I deserved that."

Elwin hums. "Would you like to meet my new daughter? Her name is Aria. Ana calls her a song of hope."

Cid looks. The baby has lost the wrinkled, squished look of all newborns, and is starting to plump up. She mostly resembles Clive, but with a more delicate face. She's wrapped in a purple knitted blanket with faint pink roses on it, most likely knitted by Ana herself, as Cid has learned from Elwin's dinnertime stories that Ana loves knitting.

"She looks like Clive," he settles on saying.

Elwin chuckles. "That she does."

-x-

"I have a story to tell you," Ana tells him the next day. She doesn't look intimidating, especially with a baby wrapped in a purple blanket in her arms, but dread still pools in his gut.

He follows her back to Mid's room, where Mid had clung to him while they slept through the night. In broad daylight, the room is chaos incarnate, with bits and bobs of various origins haphazardly stacked everywhere except the bed.

She sits down on the bed and wastes no time.

There was once a son who asked his father, "How much gil do you make in an hour?"

The father answers, "That's none of your business. But why do you ask?"

"I just want to know. Please?" The son asks.

"If you must know, I make 100 gil an hour," the father brags.

The son bows his head. "Oh... May I borrow 50 gil?"

The father turns furious. "If you only asked because you wanted to buy some silly toy or other nonsense, march yourself straight to your room and go to bed. Think about how selfish you're being. I work hard everyday for us, and I won't tolerate such childish behavior."

The son quietly went to his room and shut the door. The father initially gets angrier about his son's question, but calms down soon enough. He decides to give his son a chance to explain, so he goes to his son's room.

The son is still awake, sitting on the bed.

The father says, "I'm sorry for being so harsh. I'll let you borrow 50 gil if you tell me why you need it."

He hands his son 50 gil. The son cheers up. "Thank you, father!"

The son then starts pulling out more gil from under his pillow, and the father starts getting angry again.

The father asks, "Why do you want more money if you already had some?"

The son answers, "Because I didn't have enough, but now I do!"

Then he hands a total of 100 gil to his father. "Father, here's 100 gil. Can I buy an hour of your time? Please come home early tomorrow. I would like to have dinner with you."

Cid's vision swims from unshed tears. "S-Stop. Please. I get it."

He lowers his blurry gaze to the floor in sheer misery.

A hand lands gently on his shoulder. "Cid, I'm sorry if I made you feel like you have to be immediately useful just to be welcomed here in Rosaria," Ana says, making Cid flinch. "Elwin said you called yourself a tool, but that's not how we think of you at all. Okay? I know it might be hard to believe at first. So take your time getting settled, and get to know the people here. You did a great job on your first mission. The other Mothercrystals can wait for a bit. Most importantly, spend some time with Mid."

"Yes. I understand," Cid croaks through the lump in his throat.

He wants to be alone, to collect himself, but Ana's not done. "Look around you, Cid. Mid spent a lot of time in this room tinkering. I listened to her as much as I could, but I don't really get it. A lot of the time, she'd say, 'I wonder if Cid knew about this' or 'I'll ask him when he gets back' or 'Maybe he'll help me make a better one' or 'I think he'll like that.' And then she'd be holding back tears because she missed you so much, but didn't want to show it. If you still think she was merely acting yesterday, you're wrong."

"Elwin tells anyone who asks that you're very kind. He never said you're ruthless," Cid sobs. He buries his tears on the crook of his elbow.

"I can be both when the situation calls for it." She pats his shoulder before finally leaving him alone.

Chapter Text

Cid spends the next few days avoiding me, which is ...fair enough. He's spending a lot of time with Mid, though, so that's good.

-x-

I make two more decks of Uno and add all the decks together. Both Elwin and Cid get roped into playing, and they experience Mid in all her card-counting glory.

The sheer repetitiveness gets to me eventually. I need variety! Besides, if I don't do something to lower Mid's win ratio, I might face mutiny soon. I commission the castle carpenter for a set of 54 precisely-measured wood blocks. I'm sure the guy thinks I'm nuts.

Anyway, I introduce Jenga, a game where sometimes even a small gust of wind is enough to secure victory, to my extended family.

"Why is it called Jenga? What does Jenga mean?" Clive asks, inspecting one of the wood blocks.

"Eh, it doesn't really mean anything. I just made it up!" I answer, humming happily as I stack the blocks. Clive puts the last block in place.

"Great! Let me show you how to play..."

And so, Mid's perfect win rate goes on a decline, especially once I encourage chaos, like 'sudden' gusts of wind, jumpscares in the form of spider-shaped yarn knots thrown straight into Elwin's face, and loud noises. You know. Classic tactics. Of course, it's all in good fun, and I did it to everybody. Hey, I'm an equal opportunity saboteur.

Luckily, by this point, Joshua's friendship with Mid is solid enough, and doesn't get affected by her loss.

The children all get into the spirit of friendly sabotage easily, even Jill, who pokes Clive's side with a finger right when he was about to pull a block away. Clive flinches and yelps loudly, and in doing so, exposes the fact that he's ticklish. I swear the other three children looked like sharks who smelled blood in the water.

Predictably, Cid is the best at keeping his composure, and he has the steadiest hand too. But not even Cid can endure the onslaught of four children jumping on his back, led with a warcry by Mid. They crash down into the carpet, along with the rest of the Jenga pieces.

Fun times were had by all.

-x-

I stare at the nearly-finished gray raglan sweater in my hands, a week later. Only the ribbing at the hem is left.

"What am I doing? Why is the Duchess of Rosaria knitting a sweater for a man who's not her husband?" I feel like pulling all my hair out as the thought occurred to me that this could be considered inappropriate.

"He's not an actual family member, Ana, you dumbass!" I scold myself under my breath.

Unlike when I knitted a chocobo hoodie for Mid to match the other children, people won't find it cute if I give Cid a similar gift to the first one I gave Elwin! In fact, wouldn't they think I'm trying to become the mother of Cid's child?

Even if I gift the sweater in private, if he wears it, people will know instantly who gave it to him. Doing it covertly will lead to rumors of infidelity; doing it overtly will make people think I'm trying to lure a third person to my bed —

"This is so stupid!" I throw the unfinished sweater to the floor, knitting needles and yarn ball included. I curl up on the couch, simultaneously feeling like a spoiled cat basking in the afternoon sunlight and a sulking dog that got thoroughly scolded by its master.

Why did I even choose to make a sweater? Not even a hoodie. It's just a sweater that looks perfectly normal and practical for this time period. I've only seen Cid wearing that one outfit. Assuming he actually washed it sometimes, then he has a second change of clothes, but if that's all he brought when he fled Waloed, sue me for thinking he could use more.

Is it the same as making that first hoodie for Elwin? No, I don't think so. I wanted to give Elwin a hoodie not because he needed it, but because I wanted to give him something comforting and soft.

Did I fall in love with Cid while I wasn't paying attention? No, but people will assume I did anyway. Cid inspires awe because he's an actual badass, gratitude for taking care of canon-Clive, unreasonable guilt for letting him die after saving Clive in a cutscene, worry for the future, and none of the warm soupy mix of love and affection I feel for Elwin. Am I attracted to him? Yes, but everyone is, so I'm not special. It doesn't mean I'll ever act on it. But that doesn't matter. That's not what it'll look like to the eyes of other people determined to find fault in my actions.

I wake up with my head on Elwin's lap. It's very dark out, and the solar is lit up with candles.

"Did you have a good nap, Ana?" He asks.

"I guess so. I don't remember falling asleep," I shrug. "Where's Aria?"

"Sleeping soundly in the nursery. And the other children are all tucked in as well." He runs a hand through my unbound hair. He must've been here long enough to undo whatever ruined hairstyle I was wearing before. "You seem dispirited. Is it related to the discarded project I found on the floor?"

"I was making a sweater for Cid," I grumble. "I changed my mind, so I'll unravel it later. No sense in wasting perfectly good yarn."

"What was wrong with it?"

"Nothing was wrong with it! Except other people will twist my intentions however they want, and I can't afford getting into a scandal!" I snap. "I wanted him here to thank him for saving Clive in that future-that-wasn't. I thought it'd be good for him and Mid to have a safe place to stay. Except he's not feeling very welcome here, is he? It's my fault, so I wanted to give him a peace offering. It just occurred to me way too late that a sweater might not be the best idea."

"Ana... Whatever happened to Cid and Clive in Sixteen—"

"—hasn't happened yet, I know that. But he's the same person. So even though I know there's no need to thank him, I still want to," I admit.

We spend a few minutes in companionable silence.

"Elwin..." I whine, burying my face into Elwin's chest. "Is he gonna avoid me the whole time if I don't think of a good peace offering?"

Elwin pats my back fondly. "Give him time, dear."

"It's just common sense to want to proactively dig myself out of any grudges! Especially if the other person is a Dominant who could squash me like a bug! Not to mention, I want to be his friend, not take him to bed! I'm already quite happy with who's in my bed, thank you very much." I reply indignantly, snuggling closer to Elwin. "And I think I'll go gray well before my thirties if I had to worry about him any more than I currently do."

Elwin pats my head. "I believe you, Ana. But clothes aren't usually considered non-romantic gifts."

"I know, but I think he only brought two or three changes of clothes when he left Waloed!" I complain.

"Actually, make that three changes of clothes and a wine goblet," Elwin chuckles. "He says he brings that thing everywhere, including the battlefield. Doesn't wash it either."

My jaw drops. "Holy flaming bird poop! Maybe that's why he's like that! The bacteria made him lose his marbles!"

Elwin bursts into laughter. I hit his chest lightly.

"Elwin! Listen to me! Cleanliness is important! I know he's a Dominant and all, but still! You gotta tell him to wash that goblet regularly! I mean it! Make it an official order if you have to!"

...And I lost him. The more I try to convince him, the harder he laughs.

Unbeknownst to both of us, Clive quietly steps away from where he'd been leaning on the door.