Archive of Our Own

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For upon thy life’s reel wind too many threads. Of fate. Power. Weal, enmeshed with woe…

Amidst this tangled knot, thou shalt know no rest. ‘Tis an endless confluence of forces; a struggle without surcease…

More terrible still is the attrition wrought upon thy companions, as they are swept up in the storm of thine existence.

Take heart and protect them well. They will be your strength and your salvation. The hope thou wilt need come the end…

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With the expanse of Camp Broken Glass swirling in and out in dull shades of grey and white, it took Ahn’zem a few beats before he could will the world to stop spinning. He felt sick- his head and heart throbbing in equal parts fear and pain as his hands shakily grasped at his coat. Everything that had just transpired still failed to fully process itself in his mind.

He… that infernal bastard… he took my body.

He almost hurt G’raha… and Alisaie.

Distantly he also thought about how Fray was also unable to commune with him during his time away from his own body. His head was uncomfortably silent- the absence of his running commentary made him feel further distressed.

Fray? Are you here?

Snapping his head up at the sound of shuffling boots, the miqo’te quickly realized that the rest of his companions were surrounding him- every face twisted in a grimace of concern and peppered with hints of fear. Alphinaud was the first to speak, a small smile of relief washing over his face.

“Thank goodness, he’s awake!” 

“Is-” Ahn’s throat was hoarse and worn. Mentally he noted that the wear and tear on his throat was getting worse and he would most likely need to soothe it with one of G’raha’s potions when they returned to their room. Taking a moment, he tried to clear his throat before he attempted to speak again. “Is everyone alright?”

G’raha crouched down to where the other miqo’te was hunched over on the floor, his eyes awash with worriment and anxiety. “Perfectly fine, yes.” He went to reach out a hand, but quickly withdrew it when he spotted the way Ahn’s shoulders further tensed- his already snake-slitted eyes growing narrower. “I… hope the same can be said of you.”

Next, Alisaie got closer, her eyes brimming with unshed tears; fists clenched at her sides. “After all of that, you’re asking if we’re alright? You really should be more worried about yourself, Ahn.”

A small smile briefly tugged at his lips. Alisaie always treated him like another sibling- a true worrywart when it came to his wellbeing- especially after the events of being in the First. “I-I’m fine I promise.” To try and prove his point, he swallowed down his pain and stood up, looking over himself. His body was his … he knew that the calloused and sacred hands before him were his, the slight ache that always stung just under the skin from his time in the First… it was all familiar.

But his body felt odd. 

Like wearing a suit that was just an ilm too short, it felt as though his skin was too tight, his ribs too big.

Everything in his mind was just a touch too quiet.

Fray?  

A small rumbling of the voidsent energy within him bubbled like a softly boiling puddle. I am here, Little One. Fray’s voice was soft as if he were a great distance away. It will take time. That tyrant nearly severed our connection… I must rest.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” G’raha broke Ahn out of his panicked stupor of speaking with Fray. He had a hand resting against his shoulder- his warmth seeping into the thick coat that he was still wearing.

When did I start feeling so cold?

Clearing his throat- Ahn tried to smile, but judging by the way G’raha’s frown only seemed to deepen gave the reaper the idea that he failed in his task to reassure his husband. “I-I’ll be fine. If I can be afforded a few hours of rest…then we can head out.”

Y’shtola stepped in, inclining her head slightly as her frosted eyes roamed his figure. “Once you’ve blown away the cobwebs, we can discuss preparations for our assault on the Tower of Babil.” Nodding further she continued. “It is getting rather late- so now that we know where you are, we can reconvene before dawn to fully plan our counter-attack against Fandaniel.” 

She folded her arms across her chest and let out a soft sigh. “Those of us with healing abilities shall return to help aid those who are tempered, while Thancred will patrol our perimeter with some of the Alliance.” Looking specifically back at Ahn’zem again, her eyes roamed over him once more. “Before you rest- it might be best you speak to Lucia and Maxima about what transpired in the Tower… it could help with preparations and what to expect when we enter the Tower ourselves.” She paused for a touch longer and finished. “ If you can of course.” 

Ahn looked away- his own ears flat against his head. “Aye. It’s the least I can do after the trouble I caused.” 

“Wait.” Alisaie cast a cautionary glance between the two miqo’te. “I can explain some of it- maybe it might be best to let Ahn rest… While G’raha and I only saw the end… I’m sure we can at least deliver part of an explanation.”

Alphinaud nodded, his eyes a little vacant as he spoke. “I remember my time in Ala Mhigo, when we fought Aulus mal Asina. What he did to our bodies back then is similar to what Ahn probably went through… again.” A viable full-body shudder enveloped the young elezen’s body before he continued. “We can go over and explain what happened and any details about the inner workings can come after a short respite.” 

G’raha nodded, rather enthusiastically despite the situation. “I will lead Ahn back to our chambers and go with you both to report before I return to help the tempered.”

As G’raha went to rest a hand on the small of Ahn’s back, the reaper couldn’t help the small flinch that ran through his body once more as he shifted away with a small mumble of an apology. The mage withdrew his hand and shook his head- wordlessly reassuring him before they made the small trek back to their lodgings.

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While most lodgings housed a minimum of four bodies to save the use of tents in the harsh Garlean plains, G’raha and Ahn were granted private accommodation secluded from the rest of the camp. This was due to the quietly disclosed fact that Ahn often experienced night terrors and intense flashbacks… things that he wished no one else would see or witness (and gods above knew that G’raha had fought tooth and nail with his husband even to be permitted to sleep with him on such nights). So with a small turn of a key, they entered a small lodging that was to the far east of the camp.

The room was nothing less than freezing due to the ceruleum heater being currently turned off to save the fuel contained inside. Warped wooden floorboards creaked under their boots as G’raha made quick work of closing the door behind them and turning on the heater. Plaster walls in an ashen grey were crumbling and water-stained from years of condensation, leaving the room with a distinct must and layer of dust that never seemed to wipe away.

A large double bed took up a majority of the room, pressed up against the north and west walls and nestled under a rather drafty window. A dresser, a mirror with a basin, and a comfy set of chairs with a table were dotted around the room. It wasn’t exactly homely, but the two had taken the time to try and make it a little cozier (mostly via thick blankets they acquired from the Steppe and pillows from Thavnair).

“Right,” G’raha’s voice was soft, filled with warmth and hints of caution as he led Ahn onto their bed, being sure to lean his scythe against the wall opposite before he bent down to help remove his thigh-high boots. “Why don’t we get you comfortable, Sune i isne in ba-um?”

Ahn’zem nodded- his head still swirling with fog and fear. It felt as though he was still frozen in a state between lucidity and dissociation. “I-Isne fil-um…” He managed to whisper out, holding out his own hand for the other to grab. His frozen fingers were enveloped in G’raha’s warm, albeit slightly sweaty, hands.

“Sune i isne in ba-um?” G’raha repeated softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“NO!” Ahn’s head snapped up to G’raha, his eyes tearful and dull. “I-I… I think I just need to rest a while. Sleep before we have to reconvene. I’m just tired… that’s all.”

G’raha’s face twisted into sorrow and slight frustration. He wasn’t angry at Ahn, but he was a little upset that since being back in Old Sharlyan- he had lapsed back into hiding himself, the mage felt as if his partner was crawling back into old habits from their time on the First together; like drawing blood from a crystal to try and get him to open up. “I would push you for an answer, but I am aware that my services are required in the infirmary so the last thing I’d want to do is push you and disappear while you’re… like this.”

With a sigh, he gingerly took Ahn’s hand and pressed his lips against his cold knuckles. “Ahn, please remember that you can contact me by linkpearl if you need. I’ll try and come back as soon as I am able, alright?”

Ahn took a few moments to respond, his hand squeezing weakly against G’raha’s before he finally found his voice. “Alright.”

With that G’raha had no choice but to pull away, his tail swishing nervously as he knew he had already stayed too long. “I’ll see you soon, sune i isne in ba-um.”

There was no response, and before long, the door closed behind G’raha, leaving the reaper in his room all by himself.


Now that he was alone, Ahn let out a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding. 

I didn’t mean to push him away… again.

You just didn’t want to accidentally hurt him in your emotional state.

Ahn felt the tears roll down his cheeks. He was back. 

“Fray?”

Yes, but I am tired, Little One. I need more time… but your distress… it is far too much, even for me. 

Ahn’zem brought his hands up to his face, his sharp nails digging into his scalp as he struggled to breathe. “I-I can’t help it, Fray.” He whispered. “It’s all a bit too much… I can’t…”

He knew that Fray couldn’t ground him or let him escape the nightmare of his unfolding emotions before him. The sheer weight of what had occurred not even hours earlier played before his eyes- making his heart stutter.

Seeing Alisaie and G’raha approach his body… Zenos piloted it and smirked at them cold and cruel as G’raha stepped in front of the elezen, doing his best to protect her in that moment.

Zenos had planned to injure them at best… but at worst.

Nausea hit him like a stampede of aldgoats as his hands slapped against his mouth trying his best not to throw up. Sweat beaded on his brow as he made the futile effort- his guts twisting as he jumped up from his position on the bed and rushed to the small basin by the dresser before the bile left his body with a particularly disgusting gag.

He could feel Fray trying to pull at the edges of his mind, trying to stop him from, the spiral that was starting deep within, but it was too late, and his voidsent companion was too drained of energy to overtake him.

Ahn’zem’s breathing grew rugged, his knuckles turning white as they grasped at the porcelain basin. Everything was overbearing- his mind whirling with fear and sorrow. Tears burned his eyes as he started to whimper, his tails hanging low between his legs as he felt another wave of nausea run up his throat.

I didn’t mean to.
I didn’t want to.
I didn’t….

It wasn’t me.

Lilliana… I…

“I’m sorry…” He breathed out, his voice pitched high and strained. “I’m sorry… please. I’m sorry… It wasn’t me… I didn’t… please… I’m so sorry…F-Forgive me!”

His body shook as he continued to apologize to the air, his mind replaying the loop of his body approaching G’raha and Alisaie, the way Zenos made him smirk… twisted and full of malice and hurtful intent. 

Accompanying it was another memory… one he thought he had laid to rest with his past… When Zenos had once again tipped him over the edge… he was enraged- set out to destroy the hands that had hurt him so- but Lilliana had perished at his hands instead.

Lilliana… G’raha… Alisaie…
Please… I’m sorry… I’m sorry.

It wasn’t me…
It wasn’t…

With a sniff, he tilted his head up and glanced at his face in the mirror. His eyes were dark with purple eyebags, his face pale and gaunt with stress…

And for a moment it flickered and all he saw was Zenos staring back at him with a cruel smile- his laugh echoing in his ears.

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The gods themselves will be my meal, your dear companions, my desert.
Upon this world, our feast and death will follow in my wake…

All your hate, all your rage… you will render unto me

☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

With a flash, his fist connected with the glass, a scream ripping from his throat in a manic and panicked breath, his eyes wide and filled with fear. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD!”

The reflective surface had shattered, fracturing under the impact of his knuckle as he started to cry out incoherent words. Blood was already dripping down his knuckles as shards had embedded themself within the enclosed fist, but the miqo’te barely registered the pain as every split segment of the mirror still faded in and out between himself and the blond garlean prince.

He was still wearing his face.

That’s not me. That’s not me…

It can’t be me.

I’m not him…

Far away, Ahn could feel Fray, still trying to pull him away from himself- trying to stop his dissociation as everything felt like he was floating away.

But seeing that fiend again in his mind's eye made everything around him turn fuzzy and fade with one last agonizing sob.

Ahn’zem had to get him out…

Ahn’zem had to be punished for his weaknesses.

Ahn’zem… had to escape.

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Returning to Camp Broken Glass after another round of protecting their perimeters, Guydelot and Sanson could hardly wait to have a warm meal and soothe their frozen limbs before retiring to their quarters for a short respite. They were sharing with some of the Bard Contingent of the Adders (a necessity for safe space and heat), so time together was few and far between. But with the sheer cold and intense fights of fending off the tempered, the two had found other things to complain about.

“Talk about a right mess,” Guydelot murmured as he rubbed at his frozen fingers, their ache hardly fading as he had plucked at the strings of his harp a little too frequently to help keep the newer recruits inspired. “After the battle at Ghimlyt Dark, I thought our budding bards would be far better suited for fighting… but even with Officer Sanson ‘the Stiff’ Smyth’s hard drills an’ work… they’re still a wee bit too flighty for their own good.”

Sanson pulled his hands to his own, enveloping them in his thick gloves and giving them a small kiss. “They’re young and inexperienced, Guydelot ‘the Spent’ Thildonnet.” His eyes had a slight twinkle of amusement at the use of their monikers before he cast his gaze down to his partner's reddened hands. “Hardly seen half of what we have… and how some of these people have been transformed into strange creatures thanks to tempering…” He took a moment as he recalled the Garlean soldiers they had fought off the night before when their whole camp was drowning in the chaos of that damned shrieking tower. “We must thank the Scions again for their Warding Scales. To not be affected or fearful of turning into… those…”

Eyes softening with understanding, the bard slipped his hand out of the lancer’s grasp to tilt his head up via his chin. “We can thank them as many times as you wish, but all will be right as rain. With Lillith and Ahn’zem here too… we will get through this. You won’t turn into something like that, not on my watch. Bard’s honour.”

Smiling, Sanson nodded and resisted the urge to pull the elezen into a tight hug, (that could wait until they were out of the eyes of the main camp). But to know that his partner would keep him safe no matter what… warmed him to the core of his soul and the hyur would do anything to keep him safe too.

A small clearing of a throat made the two flinch and quickly separate- a pale blush dusting Sanon’s cheeks in particular as he turned to the culprit.

“I’m awfully sorry to disturb you both.” G’raha’s ears were flat against his head, his hand rubbing nervously against his forearm. “You see, I haven’t quite finished my work in the infirmary, but it’s getting close to the time for an evening meal... And well, Ahn’zem-”

Sanson stepped forward, his heart leaping in his chest at the mention of Ahn. Last he had heard, the Scions were preparing to venture out into the frigid ice and snow further from their base to search for the missing miqo’te. “Ahn’zem has returned to Camp? Is he alright?”

Nodding, G’raha held his gaze, his face twisted into loving concern. “More or less… I can’t reveal all that happened here, but he had been spirited away to the Tower that looms over us. Since returning he has been a little distant mentally and I had to leave him alone to help here.” With a nervous flick of his tail and a small breath to control his nerves, the miqo’te continued. “I tried to call him on our Linkpearl, but he won’t answer, and that in itself is troubling. Could I trouble you two to check on him and possibly bring him to dinner? I… I’m not sure who else to trust with this as Lillith has briefly returned to Ishgard to speak with Aymeric.”

With a look of understanding, Guydelot gave a reassuring smile to G’raha. “But of course, Ahn is an important person to all of us, to hear he has gone through such turmoil, we would be more than happy to check in on him on your behalf.”

“Thank you, my friends.” The relief on G’raha’s face was apparent as his shoulders relaxed a fraction. “I… he wouldn’t tell me much but I know it must’ve been a bad experience. I promise I will explain more when we’re not so out in the open, it’s all rather sensitive information that I can’t risk the layman's ear hearing..”

Sanson nodded. “But of course, this seems like a rather delicate matter regardless. We will check on him now, please, finish your work without concern, G’raha. I will come fetch you if your presence is needed, otherwise, we will drag him here to dinner and we can all eat together.”

The small sparkle in G’raha’s eyes was hard to miss, as it was clear that the two men before him made his chest blossom with a heat of gratefulness and appreciation. “Yes, I think the two of us would love nothing more, I still have many questions regarding the principles of Bard Song, and just how you two overcame this Ballad of Oblivion. ”

The taller elezen flashed a smile of confidence and allure. “But of course, ‘tis the story that brought us closer together- though while I may be the bard- Sanson’s recount of the event paints a far more vivid picture of the events in that cute journal of his.”

Stammering a little, Sanson twisted on his heel, leaving the conversation before anyone else could see his blush deepen. “Yes, yes sure. We will be back soon with Ahn’zem. Come, Guydelot.”

With a slight chuckle, Guydelot gave a small playful salute to G’raha as he responded. “Yes, Officer Smyth.”

It didn’t take long for the duo to cross the expanse of the camp towards the small glorified hut they knew the two miqo’te had been assigned. Guydelot grumbled a little, jealous that they got to have a private room away from the prying eyes of the rest of the alliance and her people- earning a swift smack to the shoulder from Sanson.

“The Warriors of Light deserve to have certain privileges considering all they sacrifice for Hydaelyn and her people.”

The elezen pouted and rubbed at his arm, the cold making it sting more than usual. “Aye, I’m not disputing that, Sanson.” He rolled his eyes as they approached the door to the main entry way. “I was simply stating, that it must be nice to be able to snuggle down with your partner in this weather, to feel their warmth and comfort without having to worry about being seen as unprofessional. ”

With a short sigh, Sanson couldn’t argue much. While most of the contingent had caught on to the status of their best bard and officer, such things were still a little taboo and in the end, the two had agreed to remain professional about their status until all was said and done in Garlemald. “I can’t say I don’t agree, but that can wait until after we check in on our friend.”

Guydelot gave a snort and lent against the doorframe. “Yes, yes, I know.” He then turned to the frost-bitten wood and gave it a firm knock. “Ahn? Your two favourite companions from Gridania have come to do a wellness check. Do you want to join us for a spot of dinner?”

There was no response.

With a frown, Sanson knocked next- louder. “Hello, Ahn’zem? G’raha told us you were here and weren’t responding to his linkpearl? Is everything alright?”

For a moment all they heard around them was the whirling of winds that swept through the camp as well as a small din of the other soldiers gathering for their evening meal.

Then they heard it- albeit rather soft.
A gasping sob and a whimpering cry.

Sanson felt his heart sink as he knocked on the door harder. “Ahn’zem? Ahn’zem what’s wrong!” Adrenaline kicked in as his hand flew to the handle, testing it to see if it was locked. The hyur sent a small prayer of thanks to Nophica as it twisted and opened without protest. He cast a cautionary glance to Guydelot as he spoke softer. “Ahn? Please excuse us, but we’re coming in.”

They quickly filed in, the lancer at the front as they shuffled through the entryway before he stopped, causing Guydelot to stumble into him as he peered over his shoulder.

“Seven hells.”

Staring on in abject horror, the duo struggled to take in the scene that had unfolded before them. Ahn’zem was on the floor, his back pressed into a corner of the room as he trembled with his hands over his eyes and small whimpers leaving his throat. 

Blood… the heavy stench of iron was flooding every sense as a trail leading from the miqo’te to the shattered mirror at the basin, tinged slightly blue and smeared across the white porcelain and seeping into the old floorboards.

But that, arguably, wasn’t even the worst part.

Clumps of hair, haphazardly cut off sat in the plug and scattered around the foot of the receptile. Blood splatters the ends of the pale lavender strands, clearly cut and not torn out.

Out of the two of them, Sanson was the first to act, dashing towards Ahn as he tried to breathe through the haze of iron and fear. “Ahn’zem can you hear me? It’s Sanson, G’raha sent us.” He slowly closed in, kneeling next to him, and choked back a gasp.

More blood was leaking down his knuckles, his arm… even down parts of his face and hair were laced with small cuts. His hand came up to rest them on Ahn’s shoulder before the miqo’te flinched, pushing himself further into the corner, trying to make himself as small as possible.

“Get away!” He cried. “Please… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to please… forgive me!” His voice was hoarse, thick with tears and distress as he threw his hands out in front of him clawing the air with sharp nails. “Please! It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me!”

Guydelot appeared on the opposite side, reaching out to grab Ahn’zem’s hands and pulled away the moment the miqo’te hissed and yelped- pulling his left arm back. The elezen looked down at his own hand, which was now slick with blood.

“Nophica’s tits…” He breathed, flicking his hand to try and free it of the red sticky substance with a small handkerchief he kept in his breast pocket. “What happened?”

With a grind of his teeth, Sanson grimaced as he looked over Ahn again. “I’ve seen this in other recruits and some of the older members of the Order. I once heard some of the knights in Ishgard call it torrent dracones… a passing gleaner I helped called it prolonged trauma. All in all, something happened that is causing him to think he is back in a traumatic event that happened…” He took a deep breath and continued. “Whatever happened at the Tower…maybe something else but I can’t be sure. Can you try to calm him down with a song while I go grab G’raha?”

Guydelot nodded and moved towards Ahn again, who was currently curling into a ball, sobbing as he kept his injured hand close, his eyes now visible, but glassy and unseeing. “I will do my best but, please be quick...  For all our sakes.”

The lancer nodded and turned on his heel to leave, doing his best to dodge the carnage of blood around them before the door slammed. He ran as fast as he could across the camp, his lungs burning as he did.

He had to be fast- the sheer amount of blood meant Ahn would bleed out if he didn’t find his husband and healer soon .

Gods he couldn’t die here… not afraid and alone. Not when he was still so young and had so much of his life left to explore the great expanse of their world.

Dear Nophica, please let me reach him in time.

☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾

“-an you hear me?”

Ahn blinked, his mind still floating as he tried to gather his senses. He could see blurry shapes of yellow and red around him. The sound of muffled singing was also registering in his brain as he let his eyes slip closed again he focused on his soul sight. Whenever he focused on that rather than his normal sight , he found it always hurt less when he was in one of his states.

Teal… gold and… red mixed with yellow…

“R-Raha?” His tongue felt thick, and his words slurred. “San..delot?”

G’raha’s voice permeated the blurry surroundings and he felt a warm hand against his face. “Yes, it’s all of us. Sune i isne in ba-um… what happened?”

Shaking his head, he felt like he was inflicted with a curse of heavy. Ahn’zem tried to think. Everything felt blank and confusing and without Fray to fill in the gaps he started to feel himself panic. “I… remember looking in the mirror.” His breaths were uneven and laboured. “I-I saw him … Looking at me… he was here. I had to…”

One of his hands sluggishly made its way to his head, feeling the uneven strands and scabbed wounds. “I didn’t want to see him anymore… I had to…” He had to stop for a moment, breathless, and let out a small wheeze as his eyes roamed over the trio of men bent over him. Straining his ears he could pick out the soothing lilt of Guydelot’s bow and felt his thoughts further clear. “S-Since I came back… I couldn’t stop thinking about being in the Tower… about my past in Garlemald… how I almost didn’t make it back to you all… H-How you and Ali-”

Lurching up, he held a hand to his mouth, the other weakly clutching his stomach. The nausea of almost hurting them… of Zenos hurting them in his body hit him intensely for the umpteenth time that evening. “Wicked white… He almost… a-and the last thing you would’ve seen was me…”

Scrambling back away from the calm embrace, the Miqo’te quickly realised he was being held up by Sanson and let out a hiss as he fell onto his injured arm. It had been bandaged but the stress and rapid movement caused some of the bandage to become slightly loose- the scabbing wounds visible to his eyes.

“You… you all found me like this… didn’t you?” He lost his adrenaline fast, letting Sanson hoist him back toward his chest. In the other man’s arms, it felt warm and safe, like it did with G’raha.

G’raha gave a sad smile and leaned back over them both to rebandage his arm, casting a wordless spell of healing to help against the inflammation. “Guydelot and Sanson came to check on you at my behest after I couldn’t reach you on Linkpearl.

Looking down, Ahn felt tears brimming in his eyes. “I’ve been…stressed since we came back to Garlemald, to put it lightly. Memories of my past haunt me more than ever with the shadows of my past mistakes lurking in every corner. Fray has been trying to keep me afloat while we all fight against Fandaniel… I didn’t want to worry anyone more than I already have, especially you, Raha.”

“Sune i isne in ba-um…” G’raha spoke softly, running his hands carefully through his hair before holding tightly onto his hand. “I promise you can talk to me… I insist upon it. After our voyage in the First, I knew that I would need to be more open about myself as I had emphasized to you… and through it all, you always listened to my fear and pains.” He pressed a kiss to his knuckle and let out a soft sigh. “You must know that you can talk to me too. Ahn, you always listen to me as well as the burdens of others- so why is it so different when it comes to you?”

Tears wet and warm trickled down his cheeks, the smaller miqo’te’s shoulders shuddering as he tried to find his voice. “I never felt like I deserved it. Those Garlean scientists never cared much for well-being and even before then my mother and grandmother didn’t give me a ponze of love…” He felt both Sanson’s hands and G’raha’s tighten around him in wordless support. “It just got to the point that I assumed my life is more of a burdensome weight for any to bear. I simply learned to deal with things myself- as unsavory as my coping mechanisms have become.”

Ahn’zem tried to take a breath, Vrtra’s words echoing across his mind once more:

More terrible still is the attrition wrought upon thy companions, as they are swept up in the storm of thine existence.

He knew that the wisened wyrm had more in those words he had uttered to him personally in Meghaduta. The fact that Vrtra had stated that those around him would be his most steadfast ally in the times to come was something Ahn should be holding on to… But it was easier to cast them all away again- to cope with his complicated feelings and explosive emotions where no one could be hurt in the crossfire at the disdain he held against himself.

“If I may,” Guydelot began, pulling the reaper out of his dark reverie, his hands still idly plucking away at his harp. “Sanson and I have had some rather… unsavory experiences ourselves and often find that it helps to talk it out to one another. And while I am somewhat aware that the daemons in your closet might be something else entirely, I can promise that the two of us are always willing to lend an ear or two.” He then flashed a small smile. “Elezen are known to have one of the bigger ear spans in Eorzea, so I can hear a lot more than your average hyur.”

That earned an unimpressed scoff from Sanson and a soft bout of chuckles from everyone else, breaking the tension somewhat.

“Really, we mean it.” Sanson continued. “The two of you… we see how much you are working to the bone to help everyone on this star. To know that you are both struggling… we can be willing listeners if you’d have us.”

G’raha gave a nod, relief apparent on his face. “Yes, I think we would both find that most valuable.”

Ahn’zem gave a small nod before letting his eyes roam around the room. It was still a mess with his blood and hair scattered about the small living space, causing a shameful blush to creep up on his cheeks. “I… I am sorry for the mess. To know you all found me in one of my states fills me with a dread I can’t shake…” he swallowed thickly, his tongue dry. “I didn’t like how long my hair was…. It was like it was his , and I couldn’t bear the comparison to that tyrant.”

“I see.” G’raha became pensive before he gently explained to the others how Ahn had been kidnapped by Fandaniel and Zenos- how the former Garlean prince had taken possession of Ahn’zem’s body and left him in some random sentry to scramble back- saving him and Alisaie at the last moment.

“Nophica’s tits…” Guydelot grimaced. He had long since stopped playing, his hands needing a break. “I couldn’t even imagine the stress and fear of being put in that kind of situation…”

Sanson gave a pensive nod, he had relinquished the duty of holding onto Ahn to G’raha while they helped to clean up the room, insisting they do it as the others deserved rest. It didn’t take long to clear away the loose strands and scrub free the blood- much to everyone’s relief. “I am sorry you experienced such a harrowing trauma…”

A short pause covered the room before Sanson knelt in front of the duo who had been relocated to the bed. “I can fix it up if you like… your hair I mean.”

Guydelot beamed, his energy dissipating the heavy atmosphere further. “He does my hair all the time, a skilled man of most trades it seems. Soldier, botanist, wordsmith, and part-time hair stylist!”

Rolling his eyes, Sanson brushed him off. “It’s easy when you know what you are doing. I am by no means Jandelaine, but I can at least style it enough to make it neat.”

“I’d hate to be any more trouble than I already have been.” Ahn spoke softly, his eyes a little glassy but not unaware. “I am sorry you had to clean my mess… I…” He felt small, embarrassed almost childish in this instance. The more aware he became of his meltdown, the more it twisted in his gut like a knife- deep and brutal.

G’raha further tightened his grip around his waist- pressing a gentle kiss against the back of his neck- a sensation that never failed to soothe the other miqo’te. “Sune i isne in ba-um, please… do not hurt yourself so when you’re going through so much. I know you did this because you didn’t know where to turn. None of us are angry with you.”

“Like G’raha said, I wouldn’t offer it unless I wanted to.” Sanson gently raised his hand and put it on Ahn’s shoulder, the warmth seeping through his shirt and onto his chilled skin underneath. “If it wasn’t apparent, Guydelot and I have a rather fond appreciation for you both. Being able to come through as confidants and shoulders for you to lean on is the least we can do.” 

Having finished scrubbing the sink, Guydelot appeared next to Sanson- his usual bravado smirk replaced with a quirk of his lips, eyes awash with emotion and concern. “Aye, my dear here has the right of it, Ahn’zem. We care for you and G’raha… in words that even I fail to put into bard song. Knowing you were suffering like this and didn’t feel like you could tell anyone… no one should suffer like that, most of all you.”

In that moment, it felt as if his chest was fit to burst. A small sob escaped the now trembling miqo’te, but not from fear or the weight of the world that always rested upon his shoulders. It was relief and happiness. He knew deep down that people cared about him, that they wanted only what was best for him… but when the shadows of his mind plagued him without end, it always felt so easy to forget. Always easier to not get his hopes up even when his husband was always there to pick up the pieces of his shattered soul.

“I…” he hiccuped and hid his face in his hands in a small attempt to collect himself. “I’m so sorry… thank you all… f-for caring about me. I’m sorry I let this happen I’ll do better, for you all… I promise.”

G’raha pressed another kiss to the nape of his neck before he nuzzled into it, breathing softly. “My light.. I will never fail to care about you. Until the dying days of our star and beyond. You needn’t apologise… I know these days will be a distant memory, ones that will no longer plague you. But know that I- that we will be here for you no matter what.” He pulled back slightly and tilted Ahn’zem’s head to face his- eyes locking together sparkling and filled with hope. “I promise forever and always that you can always count on me as I have always counted on you. Good or bad, thick or thin… our hearts and souls will never be apart.”

Nodding, Ahn’zem wiped at his eyes, small hiccuping sobs leaving his body as he failed to contain the joy that spilled out.

“I love you.” He managed after he found his voice again, a blush appearing across his cheeks as he looked at the two gridanians. “A-And I can’t express my emotions and thankfulness to you both. I-If you hadn’t found me when you did I would’ve been worse for wear…I… I want to make it up to you all once we’re back from this blasted place.”

The two looked at each other before back at him, bright and joyful. “I’d love nothing more.” Sanson beamed. “Now let’s get that hair sorted for you and then we can all go our separate ways to rest.”

☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾

It only took around two bells to straighten and tidy Ahn’zem’s hair, even giving it some colour with glamouring magic. The once long and pale lavender locks were now a short dark red, a suitable fringe sweeping across the left side of his face to hide his garlean eye (per his request). He quietly explained how the ends of his hair stayed blue, an interesting reminder from his time of the First when his body had become more crystal than skin- a story the other two wished to hear in more depth when the miqo’te had more energy to share it.

Once he gave it another look over, holding onto G’raha’s hands like a vice in case Zenos’s reflection deigned to show his facade again, he gave a wobbly smile. “Yes, this is perfect, thank you.”

Guydelot nodded. “My Sanson does it again. I’m always blown away by the sheer skill he has- yet he won’t put up his lance and trade it for a pair of shears.”

“Oh, come off it!” Sanson whacked him against the shoulder playfully. He pulled his coat back on as he put the scissors back in the drawer by the sink. “I wouldn’t leave you in the bard contingent all by yourself, Nophica knows you’d run out anyone who tried to replace me.”

Nodding, Guydelot chuckled and gave him an endearing peck to the cheek. “Aye aye, you’re right.”

They both turned to the others, a small atmosphere of hesitation forming. “Well, we best be on our way then…” Sanson gave them a small bow despite himself. “It’s best we let you rest now, we all have an early start tomorrow and I’d hate for anyone to feel unprepared for when we eventually have to enter that Tower.”

Ahn shuddered despite himself but nodded, opening his mouth to speak but G’raha beat him to it.

“Stay with us this evening!” It blurted out of him, his tail swishing anxiously against the back of his legs as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sure Ahn feels the same way… we… we would be happy to share our bed if you both wanted the extra company.”

Biting his lip, Ahn’zem nodded and found a rather interesting spot on the floor to focus his energies. “W-We’ve both talked about it before… wanting to do more with you both. T-Though that conversation should be had properly when I am not… like this.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and felt his tail wrap around G’raha’s arm- trying to steady himself for if the duo awkwardly refused.

Guydelot broke the tension with a bright laugh. “What did I tell you, Sanson? I knew they’d have similar feelings but no- apparently I ‘don’t know these things just because bard instinct exists’.” He smacked Sanson on the shoulder who was increasingly growing red and slipping his coat back off. 

“W-We wanted to ask the same question but I feared that it was inappropriate considering how this evening had been rather heavy on you both…”

“Well, we all seem to be on a similar page for now, so how about we all settle down on the bed for some rest- unless you need to grab your nightclothes.” G’raha smiled warmly and went over to the wardrobe to grab his and Ahn’s night attire.

Nodding Guydelot kept his coat on and handed Sanson his own back. “We should get our items for the night, and maybe a meal if they’re still serving stragglers, none of us ate so I think we could all do with a warm meal before we fully settle- as much I’d prefer to simply climb into that bed right now.”

Sanson shrugged his coat on begrudgingly, but a light hearted grin decorated his lips. “Ah, I’d been so caught up being a stylist I forgot we needed to eat too. You two wait here, we will be back shortly.”

Ahn stepped forward, tail flicking anxiously against his legs. “I-I can go… it’s the least I can do after all the trouble I caused…”

The lancer shook his head before he ruffled Ahn’s hair, careful to not disturb the healing wounds that lay underneath. “Please don’t worry about that. With all you’ll have to do tomorrow, giving you this much respite is important. It won’t take Guydelot and I long, then we can all relax.”

Deflating a little, Ahn nodded. “Alright… be safe you two.”

Beaming, Guydelot gave him a bright thumbs up. “With the blessing of the Warrior of Light, nothing can hurt us now.”

☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾

Within a bell, Guydelot and Sanson had returned with their sleepwear as well as a meal of stew in a cup for each of them.

It was only when Ahn’zen smelt the aromatic broth of chicken and spices from a recipe he had tried in  Thavnair that his stomach growled, causing the miqo’te to go redder than his hair.

Everyone swapped small stories around him as they ate, all snuggled on the bed breath soft blankets and pillows. He was a little exhausted with the idea of communicating too much, the absence of Fray still caused bouts of anxiety and caused him to clam up a little unless he was explicitly asked a question. But the others were happy to fill the void, making him feel included without putting him on the spot.

It made Ahn’zem feel loved and appreciated- and when they all settled down in the bed, Sanson spooning him on his right as he held G’raha’s hand across from him, who in turn was being spooned by Guydelot- he felt his eyes brimming with tears once more.

“Thank you all…” he whispered. “You have all shown me such love and I promise I will do everything I can to repay this…”

G’raha snorted “Don’t be ridiculous. You already do that and more Sune i isne in ba-um. Please rest, we will all be here to protect you.” 

Smiling wetly, Ahn’zem snuggled closer. “Thank you, Isne fil-um… thank you Guydelot… and Sanson.”

Before he heard their responses his eyes were heavy with exhaustion, his breaths slowly evening out to stead small puffs.

He would be okay.

He would be safe.

He would be protected… always.