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Whilst the worst of the fire had been extinguished prior to Ardyn’s arrival at Fenestala Manor, tendrils of smoke still lingered, curling into the air. Rubble crunched beneath his feet as he traversed the remains of the structure. The Imperial propaganda machine was already spinning its wheels—spreading the tale of the fire which tragically stole the life of Queen Sylva, and how through the benevolent assistance of the Empire, her son had been rescued from the flames.
“Such a pitiable waste,” Ardyn mused aloud to himself as he strode through the ruined halls. “That a place with such noble history should be laid to unsightly ruin.”
He scowled as he stumbled upon a particularly damaged area. The ceiling had collapsed, exposing the room to the sky. But on the exterior wall, despite the holes on either side, a single mural of the Six remained pristine and untouched.
“Their hubris knows no bounds,” Ardyn sneered, his words dripping with bitterness despite his lack of volume. “All is destroyed around them and yet they persist in their selfishness.”
Ardyn turned as footsteps approached from behind. An officer reported, “The girl has been located, Chancellor.”
It seemed this endeavor had proved to be a greater success than initially projected. Previous communications indicated the girl had slipped the net, along with the Lucian Royals. With a smile he commanded, “Excellent. Bring her to me.”
Surrounded on all sides, the girl did not resist her MT escorts, and walked calmly under her own power. An unwelcome shiver went down Ardyn’s spine as her eyes met his. Although far from ignorant of the child’s ancestry, the girl’s resemblance to Aera was unsettlingly striking. Those eyes especially… prodded his soul in a manner best left forgotten.
The chosen Oracle of the so-called chosen king—was a mere child at his mercy. If he so desired, he could snuff out her existence in the blink of an eye. Put an end to this farcical prophecy the Astrals enacted with their chosen playthings. Yet, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret blinked up at him with hauntingly familiar blue eyes, without fear, as if he were a guest in her home rather than the conqueror of it.
“I am relieved to see you have been unharmed by this dreadful fire, Princess.”
“Thank you,” Lunafreya replied quietly. “I am well, but… what of my brother?”
Ardyn nodded. “Prince Ravus is safe in our care… as you shall be. I shall have you brought to him at once.”
The MTs moved, but Lunafreya held Ardyn’s gaze for a moment longer before she took her cue. “My thanks.”
“Of course, Princess,” Ardyn said, bowing exaggeratingly as she passed.
The Astrals forsaken path of their fates guaranteed that one day, the girl's life would be forfeit. Lunafreya would be struck down, preferably by his own hand, before the selfish whims of the Gods she served could destroy her from within. But those innocent eyes stirred something deep within his soul, and Ardyn had stayed his hand.
Her demise need not be this day.
Ardyn had grown weary of the perpetual facade he wore as the Chancellor of Niflheim. But regardless of his disdain over this engagement, the time was not yet right to cast away the veil, and so, he was forced to maintain appearances. When cast in a role—one must play the part, and he begrudgingly took his seat as the Imperial representative in attendance of this ridiculous charade. An Oracle Ascension ceremony… as if the girl they’d captured four years prior hadn’t already assumed the role upon her mother’s untimely death.
Lady Lunafreya, as she was now known, stepped out onto the altar to a chorus of jubilant cheers. But Ardyn’s breath caught in his throat when he laid eyes on her. He hadn’t seen her in person since the annexation of Tenebrae, but she had grown, beginning to blossom as a woman, despite being the youngest Oracle in recorded history. Now, sixteen years of age, her resemblance to his lost love had shifted from striking to uncanny.
The only blessed thing about this ceremony was its short duration. Lady Lunafreya undertook her oaths, accepted her duties as Oracle, and commemorative coins were gifted to those in attendance. Upon its conclusion, he swiftly rose to his feet, eager to escape from the memories resurfacing in his mind. The far greater, and highly publicized spectacle of the Oracle’s pilgrimage amongst the people was due to follow the formalities. There were just a few pleasantries left to perform, but over the years, Ardyn had perfected such showmanship.
Extending a bow with a flourish, he greeted the ‘newly’ minted Oracle as she approached. “Well met, Lady Lunafreya, it is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Likewise, Chancellor.” Lunafreya said with an acknowledging nod. “I am humbled to have had you in attendance.”
“The honor is indeed mine. I shall not keep you from your pilgrimage, but on behalf of the Empire, please do accept our congratulations on your accomplishment.”
“Thank you.” She paused very deliberately before continuing. “You’ve come a long way. Shall I bestow a blessing upon you before we part?”
“Truly a gracious offer,” he condescended with a tip of his hat, “but I must decline. There are those in far more dire need of your gifts than I.”
Those clear blue eyes that were so hauntingly like Aera’s seemed to peer into the depths of his tortured soul as she said, “All are deserving of grace and salvation. Great or small, it is my privilege to grant peace to all who wish for it.”
Hidden behind the politically neutral words, Lunafreya was undoubtedly aware of exactly what she was offering—and to whom. Her message was clear. Such an effort was doomed to failure by the very Astrals she proclaimed to serve, and yet the Oracle believed him worthy of salvation.
Unnerved in more ways than one, Ardyn hastened his departure. “Thank you for your kindness, Lady Lunafreya, but I’m afraid I must be on my way. Matters of state are such dreadfully dull affairs, but alas, we all have our roles to play.”
“Very well,” she said softly. Disappointment reflected clearly in her eyes as his own message met its mark. “Perhaps when next we meet?”
“Perhaps.” An amused smile danced across Ardyn’s lips as he performed a grandiose parting bow. “Until then.”
Ardyn watched, unseen, as Lunafreya collapsed to the ground, coughing, and gasping for air. She was dying a slow and painful death—the price the Astrals demanded in exchange for the power they’d decreed she was fated to wield in the first place. Casually strolling forward, Ardyn’s eyes were fixed on Noctis—where he was laid out pathetically, unmoving from where he’d been swatted from the sky like an insect.
They were all puppets.
The boy—who so strongly resembled Somnus despite the thousands of years between their lifespans, one might believe they’d been cast from the same mold. The girl—whose eyes shown with the same color, fire, and intensity of his long lost Aera. Both of them were but a means to an end. The only difference between them and himself was he understood the role he’d been unwillingly cast in centuries ago. Shunned, outcast, and wronged by his brother and Astrals alike, they’d declared him the villain—so a villain he became.
Regardless of Ardyn’s action, or inaction, Lunafreya would perish painfully. But the prolonged extent of her suffering would be swiftened should he intervene. A mercy dressed in cruelty, and befitting of his role in this farce. Besides, Noctis required motivation to unlock his true potential, and Ardyn was more than ready to be finished with this charade.
“Now about that ring.”
Lunafreya remained where she’d fallen to her knees, but startled, looking up at him with frightened blue eyes as he turned and crouched down to her level.
“On second thought, you let him have it.” Swiftly, before she could pull away, Ardyn plunged his dagger deeply into her side. “And do remind him about the crystal.”
Ardyn ripped his dagger from her tender flesh and bone, confident the wound was fatal. Lunafreya would bleed out, remaining on this mortal plane just long enough to complete her own role in this sordid affair.
It was poetic her demise was caused by his own hand—a mirror of his own tragedy, reenacted. As Somnus once extinguished the light of his life, Ardyn now returned the favor with interest to his descendant. As Lunafreya choked and struggled to right herself from where she’d fallen prone on the ground, he called mockingly to Noctis, “Oh, Prince! Your bride awaits!”
“I will pass the ring to the rightful king…” Lunafreya said as she forced through the pain and struggled to upright herself.
Ardyn turned to face her as she spoke and as she faltered, he moved to grasp her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes.
In response, she reached up with both hands to grasp his wrist, cupping it tenderly as she gently lowered it away from her face. Her hands were aglow with golden light and Ardyn smiled ever so slightly in amusement that she would bother to waste what remained of her precious energy on him. Unphased in the slightest, Ardyn allowed her to continue, his hand remaining passively upturned in her fragile grip. The attempt was futile and pointless, but yet… something shifted in the air between them.
The golden light never ceased flowing as Lunafreya spoke. “When the prophecy is fulfilled, all in thrall to darkness shall know peace.”
As quiet as her words were, they were powerful. Lunafreya’s expression was soft, gentle and full of kindness as she offered her own mercy to him… as if he hadn’t plunged a dagger into her side less than a minute ago. A sense of peace rushed through his very being, and for a brief moment, Ardyn believed it actually might work. That he was still capable of being saved after all.
For a split second, the sensation of Aera’s lips on his own, the sound of her laugh, and the peace he once held in his own heart swelled from deeply within him. Ardyn was caught by surprise by how real it felt, and he basked in the sensation… just before the rage over all he had lost seeped through the illusion of redemption. It was far too late and he had come too far to abandon his course now. Eyes hardening, the smile slipped from his face, and he violently pulled his arm away.
Without his support to keep her upright, Lunafreya collapsed hard on the ground as he scrambled to his feet. Following the momentum of his withdrawal, Ardyn stormed towards the arriving airship, but hesitated… pausing in his stride. His limb still tingled with the fading echo of healing and he held up his hand, curling his fingers as he examined it.
Although interrupted, whatever she had done had indeed resulted in some minor effect. Not enough to purge him of his affliction in any considerable measure, but his arm felt lighter than it had in millenia. It was a wasted effort, but a small, shaken part of the man he used to be, respected Lunafreya's sheer audacity. In her heartfelt belief she could save him, when not even her precious Astrals would condescend to do so.
“How sweet…” Ardyn drawled as he slowly turned back towards her as the ramp for the airship fully extended onto the ruined remains of the altar. “But please, Lady Lunafreya…” He paused and gave her one final, but sincere bow, “...you first.”
Completing his circle, he turned his back to her. In a way, Ardyn almost envied Lunafreya. The curtain was falling as the act of the Oracle reached its inevitable climax, but the Astral’s farce was far from over. After all, there was still a puppet remaining on the stage who needed Ardyn’s hands to guide his strings.
And the villain and hero alike still had their roles to play.