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It was over.
With one final, swift stab of her lance, Iriya Arene ended the twisted mockery that was the life of the false King Thordan. Having regressed to his frail, feeble original form, he didn't stand a chance against her, offering only a ragged croak and fresh horror glimmering in his eyes as her weapon pierced his chest. Like a puppet with its strings cut, he collapsed backwards onto the Allagan flooring. It was only then that a gravelly voice just behind her spoke up.
“...It is over then? I had hoped that mine would be the hand to end it… but knowing you, there was little chance of that.”
Iriya turned her head, joyful smile already plucking at the corners of her lips as she focused her attention on Estinien, the man she had grown so close to over the long course of stopping the Dragonsong War. With a cheery nod, she pulled out the eye of Nidhogg she had been holding onto, offering it to him. Looking back at her, an easy, familiar smile curved his own lips as he stepped forwards to take it. With a casual, familiar ease, he dipped his head down to dodge her Raen horns and briefly peck her on the lips. He also took the opportunity to pluck the eye from her grip before moving past her to the fallen archbishop. Rummaging briefly amongst Thordan’s belongings, he eventually pried the second massive eye of Nidhogg from Ascalon’s hilt, lifting the grisly prizes with the ease of someone who had felled countless other dragons in the past.
“Its twin… At long last… All that remains is to take them beyond the reach of man and dragon both. With this task accomplished, my toils shall finally be at an end.” His smile quirked up a bit higher. “And then, perhaps, I can join you in the festivities in Ishgard.”
Despite the cheerful intent behind his words, the way he trailed off at the end made Iriya furrow her brow, recognizing it as not like Estinien at all. In fact, he even looked a little pale as he stared down at the eyes, unable to look away as the orbs flared with a malevolent red aura. Recognizing something was amiss, she managed to take only a single hesitant step towards him before he snapped his head up.
Whereupon she drew in a sharp breath.
Beneath his helmet, crimson veins webbed out from his eyes, pulsing with dark intent. Though that same angry red color was taking over his brilliant irises, she could see the way he beheld her, the horrified realization creeping into them. His jaw fell slack before tensing, his muscles visibly struggling against an unseen force all so they could mouth one desperate plea towards her.
“Run…”
However, before she was even done processing that request, Estinien arched his back and let out an inhuman roar that reverberated off the walls of the reactor, one that was all-too familiar too her. Almost at the same time, his form twisted and warped before her eyes, a dark cloud of particles swarming around him. When they dissipated, it revealed a gigantic, dark dragon, glaring balefully down at her with those self-same eyes that Estinien was just holding.
Nidhogg, in the flesh.
“Foolish mortal. Our song has yet to end.” Came the booming words from him, just as hate-filled as they had the last time they crossed paths. Before she could react, the dragon lunged forwards, lashing out at her with his front claws. Caught off-guard, she stood no hope of blocking such an attack, only able to cry out in agony as his talons sliced right through the light armor she wore to carve deep gashes from her shoulder to her hip. With a cry, she collapsed to her knees, doing her best to hold herself together as blood welled up thickly from her wounds. So distracted, she hardly noticed when Nidhogg roared triumphantly and took off with powerful beats of his wings, leaving her to her fate.
Iriya was left alone, sounds of her pained panting flooding her ears as she desperately tried to stem her bleeding. When the soft sound of magic coalescing filled her ears, she tensed, expecting it to be Nidhogg come back to finish her off. It wasn't until she heard a much more fatherly voice fill her head that she realized it was a different dragon entirely.
“Calm, servant of Hydaelyn. Climb on and I will ferry you back to Ishgard.”
Every movement a gargantuan struggle, Iriya stumbled her way to her feet and wrapped blood-slick hands around Midgardsormr’s reins. With the last of her strength, she boosted herself up into the saddle, clutching to it for dear life when he took off again as soon as she was settled, wheeling out into the air of Azys Lla.
As the sickly skies gave way to the fresher, colder ones surrounding Foundation, Iriya squinted, focusing hard to keep her eyes open even that much. Every ilm of her aching body screamed at her to pass out and allow herself to rest, but she couldn't, not until she made it back to Ishgard in one worn, ragged, but whole piece. Through their flight, she focused on the sharp pain radiating out from her front, the bitterly cold air slicing into her skin, anything that might ground her into consciousness.
And, in so doing, she stayed awake long enough to see them light down in Foundation.
But only just.
As soon as Midgardsormr’s feet touched upon the cold flagstones, her eyelids fluttered shut and she pitched sideways, falling from the saddle. Artoirel Fortemps, part of the welcoming committee, rushed forwards to catch her before she hit the ground. Cradling her in his arms, he looked aghast at the massive, open claw wounds marking her chest. “What… What happened up there?”
“Be warned: Nidhogg’s soul liveth on. His unbridled rage hath claimed for its vessel the one thou callest the Azure Dragoon. After returning to his true form, he struck out at Hydaelyn’s servant.” Midgardsormr explained as the rest of the Scions arrived at the scene, taking it in with just as much shock as Artoirel. “Steel yourselves, for the true test is yet to come. For now, I bid you tend to the wounds of Hydaelyn’s servant. She has suffered much from the encounter and will require the support of those closest to her while convalescing. Such wounds will not heal without considerable care.”
Midgardsormr's last words gave pause to everyone present.
Artoirel nodded, carefully adjusting his grip on Iriya. “It shall be done. I will take her back to Fortemps Manor; it will be better for her than the knights’ infirmary, I believe.”
After gaining the agreement of everyone else present, he made his way back to his home.
Where the bulk of the healing could be done in peace.
With such vicious wounds inflicted by a beast full of rage, magical healing couldn't touch them; Iriya’s only option was to heal naturally from them. As such, she was soon settled in, slathered in salve, and covered in poultices and bandages, anything that might help ease the arduous process. Despite the best efforts of those watching over her, one of the deep gashes soon became infected, the edges of the wound turning a sickly green as bile-colored pus started to collect. As her body fought against it, fever loomed over her, trapping her in a torturous delirium. All throughout, Alphinaud, Tataru, and the Fortemps took turns watching over her, ensuring she was taken care of as well as she could be.
Still… they could only do so much for her when it was one person she yearned for above all others.
“Estinien…” She mumbled in her disturbed sleep, sweat-soaked body twitching as nightmares plagued her. Her normally smooth, pink hair fanned out around her, a frazzled mess from her twisting and turning. “Don't go… Don't leave me, please…”
Emmanellain sighed as he watched her suffer. He deeply wished that he could do more for her, but the most he could do was hold her hand and hope that the sentiment came through her fevered mess… That, and change out the damp towel on her forehead, which he proceeded to do.
“How is she?”
Accustomed to being alone through his long shift watching over her, Emmanellain yelped and whirled in his chair towards the voice. Alphinaud offered an apologetic smile and a, ‘Sorry,’ before turning his attention back to Iriya.
“She's doing as well as she can be. Hasn't woken up yet, but think that's to be expected.” Emmanellain answered as he stretched to work out the kinks settling in his joints. When he finished, his next words contained his usual joking tone. “If this is what it's like to have a sister, I’m not sure if I’d ever want one. It's a lot of work.”
Alphinaud pressed his fist to his mouth to hide his smile. “That it is… but it is something well-worth the hassle once your sister is well enough to be up and about. That is my opinion on the subject, anyway. But you should get some rest of your own; I’ll take over watching her for now.”
Emmanellain nodded as he got up, making a show of shaking his legs to get blood flow back into them. “Right. Give a good holler if she happens to wake up.”
Alphinaud nodded in response and Emmanellain got up from his spot, preparing to leave and get some rest himself. However, he took one last look over his shoulder at Iriya before he left, cementing the view of her in his mind.
Above all else, he didn’t want to lose another sibling.
Several days later, Iriya had yet to waken, but still had successfully fought off the infection. Swaddled in a fresh coat of bandages, she calmly laid there as Edmont Fortemps watched over her.
Despite her making a turnaround, even he was surprised when her eyes fluttered open.
“...Where…?”
“Fortemps Manor, my dear.” Edmont replied as he helped her in her shaky efforts to sit up. “You were brought here after… after you returned from Azys Lla.”
“I see…” Her voice was raspy with disuse, the inside of her mouth feeling dry and gummy. “...How long?”
“It has been about a week since you were brought back to us. You have not awoken until just now.”
“And Estinien?”
“Lord de Borel has sent every available hand out to search for him. He has taken up command of Ishgard's forces admirably; I expect that it won't be much longer until he is found.”
“I see…” Body aching, mind still a mess, all she could offer was another mechanical answer in response to those words. They should have been comforting to her, but all she could think about was all the possible ways the confrontation between her and whatever was left of Estinien might go. With how she had been harmed, Nidhogg seemed fully entrenched in Estinien’s mind and all the doubts and worries circling through her own whispered that there was no way she would be able to cut through such heavy control… and that's if she could manage to find wherever the hells he’d gone, a daunting task considering how the whole of Ishgard’s forces had yet to locate him.
Every ilm of her still in pain, overwhelmed both mentally and physically, she couldn't help but curl in on herself and cry.
It was then that she felt sturdy arms wrapping around herself, squeezing just hard enough to provide a comforting pressure.
“Easy now… No matter what happened to Estinien, he will not give up so easily. I may not know much about the man myself, but us Ishgardians are made of stern stuff. Even Nidhogg will find him to be more of a handful than he bargained for, I think.” Edmont murmured to her, a hand soothingly rubbing up and down her back.
Iriya hiccuped and couldn't help the fond smile that cracked her chapped lips. “Oh yeah, he’s stubborn alright… He would tell me that he would give the karakuls he used to herd a run for their money.”
“Just so.” The smile proved to be infectious to even Edmont. “But first thing’s first; you need to get your rest so you can actually face Estinien on your own two feet. Then you can worry about how things will go, hm?”
Iriya gave a shaky nod at that. “Alright.”
Once Edmont settled back down into his seat, the door to the bedchambers opened, admitting a surprised Artoirel.
“Oh, you're awake!” He exclaimed as he crossed the room in a few quick strides to envelop her in a hug of his own, only easing up a bit when he felt her wince under his hasty touch. “How are you feeling?”
“Could… could be better.” She admitted, about as close as it came to her saying she was injured.
“Oh, now I know that you are in a rough shape.” Artoirel said as released her to help her lie back down. “Not to worry. Between us Fortemps and the Scions, you are in good hands around here. You’ll be back in fighting shape before you know it.”
Iriya smiled again as Edmont slipped out to give them both space, snuggling back into the soft feather bed.
“Here's hoping.”
Sure enough, more and more strength seeped into her with every day after that as her wounds began to close. Soon, she was able to ease into a sitting position and change her dressings under her own strength. By then, everyone saw fit to offer her some alone time here and there, figuring she was in dire need of it after constant surveillance for almost two weeks.
It was during one of these periods that she sat up in bed, fists clenched in her lap. Her chest still ached if she breathed in too deeply or moved too suddenly, but simply sitting as she was proved to be alright. It left her mind clear for the first time in days, all the needling doubts and concerns banished. Instead, was an iron-clad resolve, the same sense of reaching for sky-high possibilities that she only got during her most ambitious jumps as a dragoon.
She would bring Estinien back to her side, no matter what.