We made it, you guys.
Nidstinien’s model is really cool, too bad it’s always covered in flashy lights from everyone trying to kill him. XD
Writing this boss fight felt nearly as intense as fighting this boss fight. XD Gods I love the music.
Chapter 39: Dragonsong
Aymeric felt his blood run cold as Ishgard came into view below him in the dark, smoky morning. In the short time that Nidhogg had been ahead of them, the Steps of Faith were become a scorched ruinous hellscape, and though he had heard the rumble of the guns from over the horizon, testifying to their mighty efforts in keeping the dragons out of the city proper, smoke was still rising from many parts of the city. Black dragons swarmed the Steps of Faith, aiming for the gates, and knights of all liveries had sortied out to meet them. They were few, now, too few – but he saw Lucia’s distinctive armour among them, and breathed a sigh of relief.
Hraesvelgr, Vidofnir, and Vedrfolnir circled over, their mere presence causing the black dragons to pull back for a moment, and landed on with a defiant roar on the long bridge, facing down the Horde. Their passengers leapt lightly to the deck, and Aymeric turned as Lucia cried “Lord Commander!” with exhausted joy and relief. He raised a fist in greeting. She was alive, she had held, she had done magnificently. He hoped there would be time to tell her so.
“You are late, Warriors of Light!” came another shout, and he recognized Lord Artoirel’s voice. Thank the Fury that he, too, lived.
And Nidhogg came down to land upon the bridge facing them. Achiyo stood beside Hraesvelgr, staring down their enemy, and Aymeric moved to stand at her shoulder; they were of one mind and one purpose in this moment. And all their friends arrayed around them.
Nidhogg snarled. “Wherefore standest thou with these vermin, Brother?”
Hraesvelgr sighed, but spoke firmly. “Abandon this war, shade. The suffering thou sowest serveth no end. The traitors’ progeny have learned of their forefathers’ betrayal, and seek now to make amends with our kind. Never shall our grief be assuagd, nor our loss forgotten. But reconciliation may yet halt the spread of this plague of enmity. Forsake thy vengeance and be at peace.”
Nidhogg’s rumbling growl grew to a scream. “What soft-headed ramblings are these? Thy dalliance with that vile maid hath robbed thee of thy wits! Mayhap her cloying perfume hath made thee forget the stench of our brood-sister’s lifeblood!”
“Thou darest speak thus of my beloved!?” Hraesvelgr roared, his eyes wide with fury, and Aymeric felt his heart race in fear that the dragon might lose his self-control there and then with all of them near-beneath his feet.
“Ah! So the flames of rage may yet be kindled!” Nidhogg bared his teeth. If Hraesvelgr had not wanted to fight before, now there was no choice, for the black dragon was enraged by this ‘betrayal’ beyond all reasoning. “I feared thy heart’s fire had long since gone out. But waste not thy fury on words, Brother – thou shalt have need of it for the battle!”
“Move,” Kekeniro said urgently, and the ten of them hurried to the side of the bridge, leaving nothing between the two great wyrms.
“Lucia! Get the wounded out of here!” Aymeric cried. “Alphinaud – get to the city.” For once, Alphinaud did not argue, running back to meet Lucia. Everyone ducked as Nidhogg and Hraesvelgr began to spit blasts of fire and light aether at each other; the misses and deflections cracked the Gates of Judgement and shattered them. And then Nidhogg used his magic to lift one of the huge towers that held the dragonslayers, and threw it at Hraesvelgr. Hraesvelgr dodged.
The bridge shuddered and made ominous cracking sounds as the tower landed lengthwise across it, but he almost didn’t notice. “Lucia!!”
“I am here, Lord Commander,” crackled through his linkpearl. He had thought her crushed beneath the tower, and breathed again in relief. “Master Alphinaud is here. You are cut off from us, we shall… we shall scale this tower. Hold fast.”
“Stay back,” he warned her. “If Hraesvelgr cannot contain the wyrm, let us engage him. I would risk no more lives than necessary.” She was desperately weary, and the Temple Knights likewise – they would only be lambs to slaughter should they try to fight Nidhogg.
“But your life, Ser Aymeric-”
He answered her with the quiet, indomitable conviction he had gotten from Achiyo. “We will live, Lucia.”
The two dragons charged at each other beneath the bridge, tearing through it and ripping into the sky itself, creating a huge roiling shockwave of light and darkness. The weird, sickly light cast strange shadows on all faces. He could see nothing through it, only heard roaring. Who would emerge from that light?
Nidhogg came first, tumbling down uncontrolled, and Hraesvelgr shot after. For a moment Aymeric wanted to cheer – then Nidhogg’s eyes flashed, and his entire body ignited in flames. The two dragons tangled in each other’s lithe bodies and slammed to the deck of the Steps.
Somehow, the Steps held. But Nidhogg stood triumphant upon Hraesvelgr’s broken body, glowing red, carrying a torn white feathery wing in his maw. He spat it out and roared as his glow faded. “Thou art weak, Hraesvelgr – a slithering wyrm who fawneth on the vermin who should rightly be his prey. For a thousand years have I fought without cease – and thou didst think to prevail against me!”
“Glory not in thy victory, shade,” Hraesvelgr rasped. “The battle… is not yet won. My power – and my hope – have I entrusted to another…” And he opened his left eye wide to reveal an empty socket.
Nidhogg raged. “Thine eye! What hast thou done!?”
The Eye lay before Achiyo. She looked at Nidhogg. She looked at Hraesvelgr. And without hurry, without fear, she stepped out into the middle of the bridge to take the Eye.
It dissolved into aether as she drew near, glowing golden swirls streaming towards her, wrapping around her and sinking into her pale green-gold skin, into her heart. For a moment she looked truly like the saints in the stained glass windows, shining gold and sparkling silver.
“Fool!” bellowed Nidhogg. “Thou wouldst trust a mortal with thy strength!?” He peered at her as she reached the centre of the bridge and stopped. “I know thee… ‘Twas thou who with thy companions didst intrude upon my lair and best the half of me. But now I am whole, and naught in creation shall deny me my vengeance!”
“No,” Achiyo said, her voice ringing out soft and clear and implacable. “We still shall deny you. While my heart beats in my breast shall I defend Ishgard.”
Nidhogg only screamed.
She had stood there far too long alone, and he walked out to stand beside her. He heard a choked “Lord Commander” in his ear and disconnected his linkpearl. The nine of them lined up, standing defiantly in Nidhogg’s way. Ishgard stood behind them, so strong… so vulnerable.
Nidhogg screamed again and swooped at them. They drew their weapons, and Achiyo flung up her shield in time to dodge Nidhogg’s teeth. “Wriggling maggots! I shall grind you to paste in my jaws!”
He seemed even larger than Hraesvelgr, was it possible? Or was his rage simply so palpable it made him appear larger? He was certainly faster, and absolutely not holding back. Flames erupted noisily from his jaws, from his wings, and he lunged at all of them before Achiyo brought his attention back to her with a stab and a shout. And they had to watch their footing, between the bodies and blood scattered around from the earlier battle. Aymeric ducked the waves of fire, rolling through the worst of it, feeling cooling heals descend upon him as he recovered his footing, hearing Kekeniro’s orders directing everyone away from the worse of the flames. “Everyone dodge his tail – Vivienne!”
“I’m fine,” Vivienne shot back at the tactician. “As if I can’t see the aether lighting up his scales!”
“I didn’t see that…” Rinala said, ducking behind Aymeric with a gasp as another fireball barely missed them, and he was glad to shield her.
“I… hear… I wish Nidhogg would bloody shut up for two seconds – Hydaelyn’s singing!” R’nyath cried. “Just like with Bahamut…!”
“Head in the fight!” Kekeniro said. “You can’t die because of Hydaelyn!”
“Bringing land and heavens near,” R’nyath muttered to himself. “I’m not going to die with this in my ears!”
Nidhogg would not fall silent; in fact, he was growling more than ever, casting his glare around at all of them – and his hate-filled gaze fell upon Aymeric. “Thou… knight…” Fire built in his jaws.
Aymeric sprinted, blood rushing in his ears. Every second he expected to feel hot oblivion strike his back-
Nidhogg… hesitated. And that just gave Aymeric time to get clear before flames bathed the spot where he had been but a moment before. But he had no time to celebrate, for Nidhogg pounced towards him, and though he spun to defend himself, a huge and heavy claw caught him full-on, slamming him to the ground on his back and nearly crushing his ribs. A claw-point cracked through his right pauldron, shattering it, tearing through the gambison beneath and into his shoulder. He cried out, nearly dropping his sword, thrusting it upwards left-handed towards Nidhogg’s teeth.
“Yamero kisama!” Achiyo shouted, suddenly there again, slamming her shield against the side of Nidhogg’s face, drawing his attention away from Aymeric as Aentfryn cast healing spells upon him.
“My thanks,” Aymeric wheezed to both of them, clambering to his feet and moving back to recover. His armour was wrecked on the right side, but his body was whole enough to keep fighting.
Nidhogg, denied his prey, retreated with a growl to the skies and wrapped himself in a cloak of fire. “Come, my children! Claim the vengeance that is rightfully yours!” He landed on the top of the fallen tower, and for a moment Aymeric feared for Lucia again – but Nidhogg was not attacking. Yet.
“Oh, no,” Rinala breathed, seeing the Horde descend upon them.
“Oh, yes!” Chuchupa cheered.
“I really hate this,” Tam muttered.
“You’re going to have to get over it, or we all die,” Aentfryn said.
“Three big ones!” Kekeniro shouted as the three dragons in question landed on the bridge and surged towards them. “Achiyo – right! Aymeric – middle! Vivienne – left! Keep them apart but stay within range of your healer! R’nyath, you and I are on perimeter! Tam, Chuchupa, kill those things!”
“I remember this from last time we fought him,” Rinala said, conjuring stones from the bridge and hurling them at small incoming dragons, sending them spiralling into the abyss. “He sent in his minions to keep us busy while he prepared – Kekeniro, we don’t have a shield this time!”
“We still have an Eye!” Kekeniro called back. “Achiyo, you’ll have to channel its aether to Aentfryn – but we can survive this!”
“First hurry up and kill the- Chuchupa, pray move your sodding arse,” Vivienne shouted, her peiste-like dragon opponent whipping about and knocking the Lalafell off-balance.
“I’m movin’, ain’t I?”
Aymeric found himself facing a twenty-five-fulm tall armoured bipedal drake, who raised its claws to slash him. It was terribly slow and easy to dodge, but its armoured hide was so thick he could barely slice into it, and his crystal blade was one of the best in Ishgard. He braced himself and used more speed in his next blow, and the drake flinched as he finally cut into its arm. A small dragonfly whizzed at his head and collapsed as Aentfryn hit it with a spell instead.
Whatever Tam had been wrestling with, he had mastered it, and landed with a dragoon’s uncanny precision on the head of the snake-like dragon he and Achiyo were fighting. Vivienne growled and her greatsword, spitting golden sparks, sliced her rather thin dragon in two.
Now they could all focus on the one that faced Aymeric; its gaze wavered, looking from one Warrior of Light to the next, but it did not look intelligent enough for fear. “I am your opponent, ser,” he muttered as he jabbed at its face, forcing it to follow him again, then jumping away as those razor claws came down. Then its head snapped sideways as Chuchupa leaped up and kicked it hard enough to break its neck. The rest of the small dragons pulled back, giving them a breather. Aymeric ripped off the remains of his damaged pauldron and threw it away – it would only get in the way in its current state.
“Oh my gods,” R’nyath whispered loudly. “I’m going to cry. This song!” How he had been listening to a song while unerring sending that many arrows into the sky to strike down dragons, Aymeric was not certain. “Don’t worry, it’s winding down. I’m focused. All’s good.”
“He’s doing something,” Kekeniro said, squinting to see what Nidhogg was doing where he rested on top of the fallen tower. “Achiyo, give Aentfryn your aether; Aentfryn, prepare big shields please, but don’t cast until my mark. Vivienne, if he’s fighting us on the ground again after whatever this is, you’re on main defence for a bit.”
Achiyo nodded and stretched out her hand to Aentfryn, some golden glow streaming from her hand to his body. Nidhogg spun about, enveloping himself in a sphere of flame, and the wind of his wings washed hotly over them. “Look upon the fool who dared embrace my power! Witness the darkened wings that beat about his shriveled soul!” The fiery cocoon shrank, spinning faster and faster, becoming brighter and brighter until it exploded and there…
…was not Estinien, but some horrible parody of him – forty fulms tall of scarlet scales. Aymeric only caught a glimpse, but the sight seared itself into his memory – the clawed, draconic hands and feet, the horns of Nidhogg jutting out from the arms and shoulders where each of Nidhogg’s eyes was still affixed in awful asymmetry, the horned helm opening onto blank dark facelessness. Around him slowly beat a dozen black wings, though the abomination seemed to float rather than to fly. “Champions of man! Hearken to my fury!” Nidhogg spiralled around them like a thunderbolt – magic circles appeared all around them in a ring, with them at the centre. Instinctively, they drew closer together.
Nidhogg came to a halt above them, scarlet tendrils of aether lashing from his body, the glow of the aether circles brightening from red to white. “Now, Aentfryn,” Kekeniro said calmly, and Aentfryn cast, green-blue aether settling around each of them. It seemed so thin, like cobweb – how could it withstand the spell about to be unleashed? There was naught he could do but trust it.
“Thy final verse is sung!” Nidhogg bellowed, and as the aether circles burned blindingly bright, more appeared in the air heralding Nidhogg’s path as he came down like a comet in their midst, and an explosion crashed over all of them as the entire bridge ignited.
Aymeric reeled, coughing against the fire and stone chips, feeling healing spell after healing spell go out from both healers – but he was alive, and so were Rinala and Aentfryn at least. The spots were clearing from his vision, and the dust from the air, and he could not count all his friends but though one or two of them had fallen to the ground from the impact… no one was dead.
“Thou hast survived my song… Curse thee and thine eye, Hraesvelgr!” Nidhogg had landed on Achiyo in his dive, slamming her to the ground, his long cruel lance piercing her shield and pinning it to the stones – but she was alive, though trapped at the bottom of a small crater. Aymeric ran forwards – he had to help her!
“Get away from her, arsehole!” Vivienne shouted, casting a spell at Nidhogg. “You’re mine!” Nidhogg withdrew his lance and darted at Vivienne, who cursed. “Gah! He’s strong – and fast – I can’t hold him for long!”
Aymeric held out his hand to Achiyo and dragged her to her feet. Her hair was all in disarray and her shield was like to fall in half, but she clutched it grimly as she nodded to him and ran to pace Nidhogg and Vivienne, her tail streaming behind her. Nidhogg’s new form was almost more terrifying than his draconic form, but they could not be daunted. The Warriors of Light were still fighting passionately, nobly, and with a coordination that was to be envied by even the best militaries. He had thought them admirable against Hraesvelgr. Now they belied belief, their skill and determination shining out like stars.
Nidhogg spun, sending a wave of explosions across the bridge towards R’nyath and Rinala, who screeched and ran. “Damn, I think Nidstinien’s a sore loser!” R’nyath called as he ran. Aymeric snorted at the nickname, raising his sword to strike at …Nidstinien’s shins.
“Steady… steady!” Kekeniro called. “Stay calm! Spread out for the aether blasts!”
Vivienne was still swearing as she parried Nidstinien’s furious attacks, her greatsword’s golden glow intensifying. The swearing stopped abruptly with a cry of “Living Dead!” and Aymeric looked over with gasping horror to see her impaled on the end of the lance. Nidhogg lifted her into the air and flicked her off the lance, throwing her to the ground like a rag doll.
“Vivienne!” Rinala screamed – Vivienne was already pushing herself up as blood poured from her chest – how was she still moving!?
“Thou art weak!” Nidhogg cried, diving at Kekeniro, who screamed in terror – his small yellow summon leapt in front of him and evaporated as it was skewered, but that had given the Summoner time to dodge out of the way.
“Nevertheless, we shall not surrender!” Aymeric shouted back at him defiantly, planting himself in front of Kekeniro and brandishing his blade, casting all the defensive spells he knew on himself. Nidhogg hissed in rage and struck at him, and Aymeric barely parried, the lance tip cutting into his cheek before he managed to turn the rest of its ten-fulm blade away from his head. His breath was rasping in his throat, but he was only aware of the battle before him, that deadly lance striking faster than a snake again and again. He felt like all his blood had turned to adrenaline, no conscious thought guiding his body but only instinct and trained reaction.
“Keep going!” Kekeniro cried hoarsely. “He is growing weaker!”
He certainly didn’t feel weaker to Aymeric, fighting a dragoon the size of a small tower, who in between striking at him still was turning about to throw random explosions at the other Warriors of Light. But Kekeniro had resummoned a green spirit, and Vivienne was somehow still alive and looking as ferocious as ever, as if she had never been run through.
But Nidhogg must have been feeling their attacks, for suddenly he broke away, taking to the skies again. “Brood-brother, thou hast doomed me… But if I must meet mine end, then all shall burn upon my pyre!” Aymeric braced himself for a repeat of that lightning-fast dive, but instead a wave of scarlet lightning and fire rippled across the battlefield. He cried out in agony as it coursed through his body, falling to his knees – and only clinging to his sword kept him from falling completely over. He could not see again, blinded by the lightning, blinking tears of pain from his eyes as once more the healers cast desperately.
He dragged himself to his feet; the pain was fading, but weariness was not. After the duel he had just endured, his limbs felt like lead. But he could not give up. Nor could he stop moving. “Run, run, run!” Kekeniro cried, pointing with both hand and book, and they dashed to one side in time to dodge Nidhogg in dragon form again, diving on them, trailing flames.
Nidhogg circled around and landed in the centre of the bridge in flaming majesty, and he heard more cracking sounds. For an instant, a thought that they might sacrifice themselves to break the bridge and send them all into the abyss crossed his mind – but no, Nidhogg could fly, that was foolish. “Achiyo, you’re up!” Kekeniro said.
He could see the weariness in her movements, yet still there was determination in her eyes as she ran forward to confront that hateful face. All around him was confusion and noise as the mages cast spells and Tam jumped high upon the dragon’s back. Aymeric found himself on Achiyo’s right, slashing at Nidhogg’s foreclaw as Vivienne was on her left. Nidhogg was burning red as his rage and desperation transcended all knowing.
“Group up!” Kekeniro screamed hoarsely. “Akh Morn!”
Those words near stopped Aymeric’s heart, but he ran to Achiyo’s side with the others. Not a moment too soon, for Nidhogg reared back and slammed forward, and white-hot magic pounded into them. Again, and again, and again, and Aymeric could not see nor hear for the light and the noise, but through the pain he could feel as Aentfryn collapsed into him. Somehow Aymeric caught the heavy Roegadyn, but Aentfryn kept sliding lifelessly down. And when the spell lifted, more than one Warrior of Light lay on the stones. Including Kekeniro. Rinala screamed.
“I will take him!” Aymeric shouted to Achiyo, and cast Flash into Nidhogg’s eyes. There was no time for hesitation or dread. He had to get the dragon away from the fallen Warriors – perhaps they were only unconscious! He gasped air into his weary lungs and raised his sword – he could only stand a little longer but while he had that longer he would defend them!
Nidhogg was shooting fire again, and Aymeric was becoming too tired to dodge it, bracing himself behind his sword, feeling his hands and face scorch despite his defensive spells. Then Vivienne was there, pushing him out of the way, her much larger sword shielding more. He stumbled, and Aentfryn’s fairy swooped past him, healing him as she went. That meant… He looked over, and Aentfryn was on his feet again, Kekeniro was on his feet again – Chuchupa was still down.
“I have Chuchupa!” Kekeniro rasped, drawing new aether into himself and casting; Chuchupa began to stir. “Rinala, Aentfryn, keep healing! Keep going…” He looked up. “No! No! He’s going to cast Akh Morn again!”
“With me!” Achiyo shouted, her voice ringing from the towers. “Everyone, to me!”
He took his place at her side, putting a hand on her shoulder and casting Cover – whatever else happened in this moment, she would know he was with her. And as Nidhogg reared up and prepared to obliterate their little group, she lifted her arms high in a gesture of denial.
Aether swirled like furious water around them, crashing together and solidifying into a shining golden wall before them. Akh Morn came down… and the wall held, dissipating part of its fury. Once more Aymeric was blind and deaf within the magical strikes but he felt Achiyo’s shoulder under his hand and he knew he was still alive.
And when Nidhogg ceased his spell, growling in weariness, all nine of them were still standing. He bared his teeth – and Achiyo lunged forwards. “For Ishgard,” was all she said, and then she had stabbed forward right through Nidhogg’s teeth into the roof of his mouth. Her sword snapped.
Nidhogg reared back as Vivienne reached out desperately to catch Achiyo. Aymeric wished he was there with her, but he had fallen to one knee in agony after taking Achiyo’s share of pain as well as his own in that last Akh Morn. The dragon breathed fire into the sky, thrashing and roaring in pain… and despair. “Slain twice by mortal hands…” The dragon’s body exploded, fiery aether rushing over them one last time.
And there knelt Estinien, bloody, filthy, in battered armour… alive. With two eyes still fused to his armour and a scarlet glow to his face.
“Estinien!” cried Alphinaud, running towards them from the fallen tower. Aymeric twisted enough to look over his shoulder and saw ropes hanging from the top; Alphinaud must have slid down one of them. Lucia was still at the top of the tower, gesturing, and a ladder was appearing behind her.
Estinien… no, it was still Nidhogg who spoke in a rasping, exhausted voice. “Is this… to be… mine end?” He staggered to his feet, desperately clutching his lance. “Nay… I will not allow it… I am of the first brood… I am vengeance incarnate… I am Nidhogg! Thou shalt die by my hand!” He raised the Gae Bolg left-handed and prepared to strike – and stopped.
As they all stared amazed – as Nidhogg himself turned to look at his own hand, it shuddered open and the lance fell to the bridge with a clatter. The hand thrashed, and Estinien’s mouth opened- “This is not your hand, wyrm!” He seized his own throat and squeezed.
The two souls in one body fell to their knees, wheezing and coughing blood. “Thou… wilt… obey!”
Estinien drew a breath and looked up at them. “I would ask one last favour of you, Warriors of Light… Aymeric… Finish me – now, while I have the beast subdued!”
Tam and Alphinaud looked at each other and took off running even while Aymeric was still pushing himself to his feet. They each took hold of one of the terrible eyes and pulled. Waves of red lightning burst out, and Alphinaud cried out in pain. “You waste your time!” Estinien cried. “Kill me! It is the only way! Ending Nidhogg… will be my final duty…”
“No!” Alphinaud cried desperately. “You can’t die like this! I won’t let you!”
Aymeric had abandoned his sword and fell upon his knees in front of the dragoon, putting his arms around him to hold him in place. “Do not leave us, my friend.”
Nidhogg’s eyes twitched and spun, lightning spitting from them, and once more Alphinaud – and Tam – cried out, and Aymeric was again wracked with pain. But they did not let go. And as Estinien – Nidhogg – shuddered and fought against them, the red light in his eyes flickering, a soothing presence came over them… and Nidhogg’s eyes prized free.
A burst of blue-white light, and the soul of a dragon floated upwards. “Undone by mortal will. Whither now…?”
Estinien slumped forwards into Aymeric’s arms, insensible. But he breathed still.
Tam and Alphinaud still held the eyes. Aymeric glanced at them. “Cast… cast them into the abyss.” They would be safe there. No living soul could descend into the aether-torn wind and water at the base of the mountains of Alabathia’s Spine. They turned and threw them, and he sighed with relief.
Alphinaud ran back immediately. “Is he…?”
“He lives,” Aymeric whispered. “Ah, Estinien, my ill-fated friend.”
“Ser Aymeric,” Lucia said, running up, the tracks of tears on her soot-stained face. Her heartache and relief were palpable.
“Lucia, summon the healers,” Aymeric ordered, trying to stand under his spiky burden. “I want them ready to receive him.”
“At once, Lord Commander!” she exclaimed.
Alphinaud took a step forward, and so did Vivienne and Tam, ready to help him carry Estinien. But he had nearly lost his friend, had nearly sacrificed him against the cries of his own heart, and he would not let go now. “Allow me to do this…”
“Stop,” Aentfryn said gruffly, and Aymeric stopped. “We will call an airship. You are not carrying him over that tower.”
Yes, that was… wise. By the Fury, he could hardly move. He sank back to his knees, Estinien’s head cradled against his shoulder. What a sight the two of them must have made, bloodied and tattered as they were, bathed in the dawn of a new day.
Hraesvelgr landed near them. “The Horde have sensed the fall of their master, and scattered to the winds.”
Was Hraesvelgr talking to him? He lifted his head and saw the dragon’s remaining eye fixed upon him. “You have my gratitude, Hraesvelgr. Your deeds this day have saved a great many lives.”
“Then our alliance hath served its purpose,” Hraesvelgr rumbled, and turned to Achiyo. “Thou didst wield the power I granted thee well. ‘Twas thine own skill and not mine eye which earned thee victory.” He spread his many wings and sprang into the air. “I wish thy companion a swift recovery. Fare you well, children of man.”
While the Temple Knights took Aymeric and Estinien to the Congregation, the Warriors of Light were escorted with all honour by Lord Artoirel and his knights to Fortemps Manor – where in the foyer, Rinala’s legs promptly folded up beneath her. Achiyo caught her, though she dearly wished to follow suit. Artoirel turned and scooped up the White Mage. “Miss Rinala, you must be weary to the bone. All of you must be.”
Rinala could only stammer, but Achiyo smiled weakly. “So must you – how long did you fight before we returned?
“We had rest while you did the hard work of saving us all.” He was dodging the question – and she doubted he would have slept at all last night even before the attack – but she allowed him his pride. Artoirel was nothing without his pride, after all.
Count Edmont had come to meet them, and spread his arms in welcome. “The heroes of the hour return!”
Alphinaud looked at him solemnly. “We but did our duty, my lord. It was the memories of fallen friends and not our heroism which saw us through at the last.” Count Edmont gave him an equally solemn look and nod.
Artoirel sighed. “I gave every onze of my strength, but mine efforts would have counted for naught had the Warriors of Light not arrived to challenge the great wyrm. As a sworn knight of Ishgard, I had hoped to do more for my city…”
She shook her head. “You do not know how much your hail meant to me when we landed. To know that you had held against such a terrifying force, that you were still alive and fighting…”
“Yeah against that many dragons? Who says you didn’t do enough for your city?” R’nyath cried. “By the Twelve, man, have some perspective.”
Emmanellain laughed. “Well, we cannot all be heroes, dear brother. Let us put away our pride for a moment, and revel in the valiant deeds of our comrades! For your sterling service to Ishgard, we salute you!”
“We don’t need salutin’,” Chuchupa said to Emmanellain. “We need breakfast. Kitten needs sleep. Whatcha got for us?”
Count Edmont did not seem to mind Chuchupa’s rudeness. “Your chambers stand ready to receive you should you wish to make use of them. You are welcome to retire at your leisure. A meal is being prepared at this moment.”
“And on the subject of valiant feats, I believe I myself have earned some small measure of recognition,” Emmanellain went on, though Chuchupa, Vivienne, Aentfryn, Kekeniro, and Tam went out in search of the dining room or their bedrooms. Artoirel gently set Rinala down again and she followed them, leaving only Achiyo, R’nyath, and Alphinaud to listen. “Under my watchful command, the ballistas of the outer ward struck down a veritable swarm of Dravanian invaders.”
Honoroit popped up cheekily. “My lord’s command was certainly watchful. He bravely watched as the siege crews took aim, and continued to watch as countless wyverns met their end. Indeed, the ward’s defenders proved so well-drilled that my lord had little occasion to stop watching.”
Artoirel sighed and rolled his eyes while Emmanellain looked down at his servant in betrayed surprise. Count Edmont shook his head. “There will be time enough to determine who is most deserving of recognition later. Come, let us follow your friends to breakfast.” It was already midday, but they had not eaten yet, so ‘breakfast’ was apt.
Alphinaud did not move. “I am most grateful for your hospitality, my lord, but I believe I shall pay a visit to the Temple Knights’ infirmary. Pray excuse me.”
“You should rest as much as we,” Achiyo told him. He might not have fought Nidhogg, but he had done everything else that they had done.
He looked at her. “I must go. I am not tired.”
He was also stubborn, and she relented. “As you wish. Take care. I shall be there when I have slept.”
Aymeric sat in a hard wooden chair, out of armour and into bandages, and watched Estinien sleeping. His last oldest friend was still alive, however miraculously. He could only pray now that his mind was yet his own, that it had not been torn asunder by the Eyes’ removal. But the dragoon breathed, his long silver hair spread across the pillow, his physical hurts cured by diligent work by the chirurgeons.
So many things could have gone wrong. Nidhogg could have ignored them to attack the city; with that power he manifested who would have been able to stop him? Even cannons and harpoons might not have slowed his advance. Or the bridge could have collapsed under them. He was given to understand – though Lucia and Handeloup were carefully trying to keep him from working – that already stonemasons and conjurers were hard at work just beginning to assess the damage. Or the Warriors of Light could have…
Some of them had died in that battle, he learned while waiting for the airship. Vivienne had only lived by virtue of an enchantment that bound her soul to her body for a few seconds after a mortal blow, but the others who had fallen in the first Akh Morn had truly died. He had seen Rinala’s hands trembling in the aftermath of it all, and could well imagine the panic she had felt when she realized she was the only dedicated healer standing, and with their tactician down as well… But she had powerful magic – as did Aentfryn and Kekeniro, if they were all able to bring back souls from the recently-dead.
Yet they had regained their lives, and the bridge had held, and Nidhogg had focused upon them, and so…
“Lord Commander, you really must rest,” Lucia told him, looking in.
He smiled at her. “I am comfortable, Lucia.” He would not leave Estinien’s side, not even to take the bed beside him. Estinien would mock him when he woke up for being too sentimental, but he didn’t care. “‘Tis not the first time I have slept in my seat.”
“‘Tis not good for you,” she argued.
“What about you, Lucia? Have you rested?” She was out of armour and changed into fresh clothes, and she had washed the grime and blood from her countenance, but the exhaustion in her eyes could not be hidden.
She withdrew from the counterattack. “I shall rest when…”
“Do not overwork yourself, First Commander. I know there is much to do but you have already done enough.” He gestured to the other bed. He could tell this was going to turn into one of their arguments where she insisted on doing too much in order to keep him from doing too much, which normally spurred him to do too much anyway to spare her the trouble. “You may rest here if you wish.” They could talk, perhaps. Not even about the battle, or work, but simply to revel in the fact that their friendship was still alive.
“Ser Aymeric…” She looked ready to fight, but then sagged. She really must have been tired. “It is only a few bells more until the evening meal. I shall continue until then.”
“If that is the best compromise I can wring from you, I shall accept it,” he said, and they both smiled a little. “And Lucia… I’m so terribly proud of you.”
“You had better sleep, ser,” she warned him, though the praise lit up her eyes with gladness, and she departed. He let out a sigh and tried to do as she said, folding his arms across his chest to keep his body upright even if he let his head fall forward to nap.
There was a quiet knock at the door a few minutes later and Aymeric opened his eyes in mild annoyance. No one was going to get any rest if they kept interrupting. “Enter.”
Alphinaud Leveilleur peeked in. “I beg your pardon, I have no wish to disturb you…”
Aymeric smiled. He, at least, was not completely unexpected, nor unwelcome. “Come in. Estinien has yet to wake, as you can see.”
“I wish to keep vigil with you, if I may,” Alphinaud said, closing the door and coming closer.
Aymeric pointed at the other bed. “Then you may also rest while you do so.” The boy might be the most well-rested of the lot of them, and sooner faint than admit to weakness in this moment, but he was still a boy, and together they had had a sleepless night after a gruelling day before.
For a moment it looked like Alphinaud wished to argue – but he sat on the edge of the bed, removed his boots, and made himself comfortable against the headboard. Aymeric closed his eyes again. “Estinien is blessed to have such a devoted comrade.”
“I… I only did what my heart demanded of me,” Alphinaud said.
“And what better path can one take but to follow one’s heart?” What did his heart wish for now? After rest, to see Estinien awaken to rediscover himself without his dread mission… to see Ishgard transformed to a republic… to see her people and stones healed… to see what peace with the dragons brought them all…
…To be with Achiyo Kensaki and see her eyes shine with joy…
The next day dawned bright and hopeful, and Aymeric yielded his seat by Estinien to Alphinaud. The boy was full of energy, and Aymeric… though he had at length retired to a bed, was feeling his decision to spend so much of the previous day seated in a chair. So he stretched, carefully, feeling every one of the aches and injuries he had incurred in all the recent battles, and wandered out for a walk around the Congregation, hopefully for food and drink. His knights were all in the best of cheer as they went about their duties, and many of them approached him to congratulate and thank him.
He had eaten and was yet walking about the entrance when the front door was hastily pushed open and the Warriors of Light rushed in. They all looked much better. “Heyyy, Aymeric!” R’nyath cried. “Gosh, we had to fight through masses of admirers to get here. How’s Estinien!?”
“My friends,” he said gladly. “Master Alphinaud sits now at his side, but he yet sleeps.”
“I hope Alphinaud has slept,” Aentfryn grunted.
“He did,” Aymeric assured him. “I saw to it.”
“And did you sleep?” Achiyo asked, looking at him.
“Well enough,” he insisted, suddenly uncomfortable under all the scrutiny they were suddenly giving him.
Lucia passed by, looking more refreshed herself. “Pray recall, the Lord Commander can be as stubborn as a wild chocobo when his mind is made up…”
“Lucia!” he cried, but everyone was laughing and it was the most delightful sound. “Nay, I am naught compared to Estinien. When he wakes, we shall have to tie him down to keep him abed.” They laughed more.
“How long have you been friends again?” Kekeniro asked.
“Our friendship began some ten years past, shortly after we joined the Temple Knights…” he began, reaching back in his memories. “I learned his name soon enough, but Estinien barely registered my existence. I was less a fellow recruit, and more a shadow which occasionally darkened his path. And so I might have remained, had fate not seen fit to intervene. While out on patrol, our company was set upon by a dragon, and we were the only two to survive.”
Both Miqo’te and Kekeniro gasped. “That must have been horrible,” Rinala said.
“While the circumstances were not ones I wish to dwell upon, the experience forged a bond between us, as such life-threatening situations are wont to do,” he explained, and began to lead them to the infirmary. “Despite our friendship, he remained an intense and solitary youth, wholly obsessed with claiming vengeance against Nidhogg. Revenge was ever at the forefront of his mind – revenge for the death of his parents, and revenge for his younge brother.”
“I didn’t know he had a brother,” Vivienne said. “I… have a younger brother…”
He lowered his voice as they drew closer to the room. “I would venture that in Alphinaud he sees something of his lost sibling. And in the ungentle chidings of Estinien, Alphinaud has found the elder brother he never had.” How must it have felt, to hear Alphinaud begging him so emotionally to live?
He paused at the door to Estinien’s room. “Truth be told, Estinien’s tactless observations have savd me from disaster more than once, and I can well understand Alphinaud’s affection for him. He is a friend for whom I would gladly-”
There was a sob from within the room. He stiffened and flung the door open, fearing the worst-
Alphinaud had abandoned the chair to kneel at Estinien’s bedside, weeping into his hands. Aymeric ran to his side, the Warriors of Light behind him.
Estinien’s eyes opened and he turned towards Alphinaud. “Cease your mewling, boy. It grates my ears.”
Alphinaud wiped his eyes and stood, smiling. “F-forgive me. When I saw you awaken, I could not… It was such a relief! We feared you might never wake up!”
Aymeric folded his arms and mock-glared at his friend. “Now, now, Estinien. If Master Alphinaud thought any less of you, you would still be Nidhogg’s plaything – or dead.”
Estinien nearly smiled. “Aye, aye. ‘Twas but a jest.”
“Estinien!” R’nyath cried. “Is that really you!? Oh my gods, how do you fit your hair inside your helmet!?”
Estinien looked at him in perplexity. “…Hair bindings?”
Had he never removed his helmet in their presence before? Foolish, stubborn Estinien. But they were all staring as if they had never seen him before. In a sense, perhaps they had not.
Estinien glanced around. “I thank you, Alphinaud… and you too, Tam. Quite how you managed to persuade Hraesvelgr to aid in his brood-brother’s downfall, I cannot imagine – but full glad am I that you did. ‘Tis an honour to share the mantle of Azure Dragoon with one such as you.”
“I did absolutely nothing to persuade Hraesvelgr,” Tam said cheerfully. “That was all Aymeric and Achiyo. I just grabbed an Eye when all was said and done.”
“I, for my part, owe you an apology,” Aymeric said remorsefully. “When last we met, I did willingly loose an arrow at your heart. Can you forgive me?”
“There is naught to forgive, Aymeric,” Estinien said impatiently. “You but acted in defence of Ishgard, as is your duty.” He closed his eyes again wearily and snorted. “Were you any less single-minded about it, I would not follow you into battle – nor trust you at my back.” Any more of that, and Aymeric would be dragging his friend out of bed to embrace him, and that would not be good for Estinien.
Estinien seemed to be thinking the same thing because he turned to glare at Aymeric. “Besides, I had come to the self-same conclusion – that I would have to perish for Nidhogg to be stopped. So let us dispense with the hand-wringing. I have heard enough mewling for one day.”
“But the day’s only just begun,” Tam said, gesturing to the sunny window.
“And already I have had my fill,” Estinien retorted.
“Oh!” Alphinaud exclaimed indignantly.
Estinien looked up at the ceiling, sorting through thoughts. Aymeric waited – and soon it came pouring out. “The tendrils of Nidhogg’s foul presence bound up every fibre of my being, usurping my senses, but I yet retained some trace of awareness. The wyrm’s mind was as a vast and tumultuous sea. Endlessly its black waters churned, his grief and despair at Ratatoskr’s murder never calming, never receding. And driven by this surging current came wave upon wave of unrelenting rancor. …It was the very image of my own heart. There I saw the dark reflection of the hatred I felt after Nidhogg slew my family, when no path remained save vengeance against dragonkind.”
“…Neither one of us had a choice. But I was blessed with something Nidhogg was not – comrades and teachers to console and admonish me.” He smiled briefly at them, at Aymeric. “Had I not had them to gainsay my obsession, it would surely have consumed me, as Nidhogg’s did him, and we would have been in all respects alike. …Though his shade is banished, his spirit scattered upon the Sea of Clouds, I feel no joy at his passing. Where once I craved vengeance, I now crave rest.” He glanced at his broken helm, laid upon the windowsill, then turned back to Aymeric. “Lord Commander, my hunt is at an end. I would lay down the mantle of Azure Dragoon.”
“My friend,” Aymeric said, all his heart in it. There should be no need for Azure Dragoons now, but even if there were, of course he would set Estinien free.
Estinien sighed and closed his eyes again. Within seconds… he was asleep.
Aymeric looked to the Hospitalier Captain, Abel Whitecape, who had been unobtrusively in attendence since before they all came in. “He has tired himself with too many words.” Well, Aymeric could have told him that. Estinien was not one to make long speeches at the best of times. But it was good that he had been able to let out all his thoughts and feelings rather than keeping them bottled up. For once. “I doubt not that he will make a full recovery, but he must be allowed some few days of quiet.”
Aymeric nodded, and gestured to the door, letting the others go first. They filed out softly, and he followed… but turned to linger in the door, looking upon Estinien’s sleeping face. “I, too, must see my path to its end. Sleep well, my friend.”
The following day, Aymeric received an invitation from Fortemps Manor. It did not say what for, but he was still on recovery leave, so he went as soon as possible.
He found the Warriors of Light, Alphinaud, Tataru, and the Fortemps family assembled in the parlour, where R’nyath was tuning a large harp. It looked a little dusty, as if it had been taken out of storage for this moment – well, no one at present played music in the Fortemps family.
“Welcome, Ser Aymeric,” Lord Edmont said. “I am told you may recall that during your battle, Master R’nyath heard the sound of Hydaelyn singing. He could not wait to perform it for us.”
“I am honoured,” Aymeric said, finding a seat among them.
“We thought you should be here since you were with us when he heard it,” Rinala said. “I hope you’re not too busy.”
“Nay,” he said smiling at her concern. “Not yet.”
R’nyath touched his harp and everyone stilled. After but a few moments, already the music was touching Aymeric’s heart with its beauty. And then R’nyath opened his mouth.
“Children of the land, listen near…”
The music slowly swelled, telling all the ruinous tale, and Aymeric found tears in his eyes when finally the last notes drifted away. Rinala was weeping silently into a handkerchief, and he saw more than one other person reach up to wipe away their own tears.
He stood. “That is truly the most heart-wrenching song I have ever had the privilege to hear. It should be performed for the nation.”
R’nyath shook his head. “Not by me.”
“If not you, then who?” cried Emmanellain.
“F’lhaminn,” R’nyath said with utter certainty, and several of the Warriors of Light reacted with gladness. “Like we did for Answers after Bahamut. Oh, Aymeric, can I have an orchestra? You thought that was sad. It… doesn’t capture the full breadth and depth of the emotions I felt in that battle. With F’lhaminn’s voice and orchestral backing, Hydaelyn’s words won’t just be heart-wrenching. They’ll actively tear your heart out and stomp on it. And you’ll thank her and ask for more.” He sniffled, overcome himself.
“You shall have whatever you wish,” Aymeric promised. He wasn’t sure who ran musical activities in the city, but it would be found out. There would be a budget.
“We should arrange it to be held in a place the dragons can attend,” Achiyo said.
“Yes,” said R’nyath.
“It shall be done,” Aymeric said. “I will be desperately busy soon enough, but I shall not forget this, you have my word.”
Rest ended for Aymeric far too quickly. It was time to put the last step of his plan into action: with peace secured with the dragons, he could step down as acting-ruler of the city. And in his place they would no longer have an Archbishop, a single man to tell the people what they should and should not think as well as do, but a republic, where all might be represented and heard in the choosing of their collective path. They had seen the dangers of allowing religion free rein over government, after all the lies and manipulations, and so the church would rebuild itself to focus simply on the citizens’ spiritual concerns, and not their worldly ones. Worship of Halone was still essential to their way of life. But it was no longer their only driving force.
Fortunately, the High Houses had come to the same understanding as him, and they raised no objections to creating a republic. The part that completely blindsided him was when they elected him Speaker to the House of Lords. He nearly refused; he had no wish to meddle further in politics, let alone continue to have the greatest responsibility in the nation. But they insisted heartily, and gradually he was convinced. Though he feared he would never have another moment to himself again…
At least Vidofnir and Vedrfolnir would come to his investiture. He felt he had struck a bond with Vedrfolnir during their sparring in Sohr Khai, and it seemed that the dragon felt the same. It was thrilling to think that he had friends among the dragons, and he hoped that his two duties would yet not preclude time enough to remain friends with them.
Tam had stopped by the Congregation to visit Estinien the day before said ceremony, and the three of them were speaking of it. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised,” Tam told him. “Who else has the vision, energy, and drive to keep your baby experimental government together? Literally, who else?” Estinien snorted.
“I think there might be others with a greater measure of energy,” Aymeric replied. “Since I have no intention of resigning as Lord Commander of the Temple Knights.”
“You’re impartial,” Estinien pointed out. “To a fault. Everyone knows it. Would anyone trust a scion of the High Houses half as much as a man brought up apart from them, who went straight into the Temple Knights and never did anything else? And don’t bring up your parentage. You’re a viscount.” By adoption, but apparently it counted…
Aymeric still felt disgruntled over it all. Estinien’s description of him made him sound boring. “And now they hail me as ‘an Azure Dragoon for a new age’.” All because Vedrfolnir was insisting that their flying together after the ceremony would send a message to both their peoples – and he was not wrong, but how the organizers had taken it-!
Estinien burst out laughing. “You dress the part better than I ever did.”
“How now, because blue is my favourite colour?” Aymeric bickered.
“Only in Ishgard,” Tam said as if to himself, darkly sardonic.
“What do you mean?” Aymeric asked.
Tam shook himself. “Do you know how many nations there are where people who are both good and strong end up in a position of power? Neither do I. But I don’t think it’s common. In my homeland, there is a ruler who is just and wise… and ineffective. I don’t visit him very often anymore. His daughter drives me…” He broke off suddenly.
“Mad?” Estinien said. “Unrequited affection, or bitter rivalry?”
“The latter,” Tam said, recovering himself. “Anyway, nations tend to reflect their leadership… but I don’t think you’ll forget that in a hurry, after what your archbishops did.”
No longer did Tam’s observations offend him. Especially knowing what little he did about Tam’s origins. “I shall keep your words in mind. Thank you.”
“Don’t do that,” Tam said. “Find your own words. You’re good at that, anyway.” He turned to Estinien. “So I suppose you’re going to stop being so high-strung now, aren’t you?”
Estinien frowned at him. “Me? Compared to you, I’m fine. How fares your alcoholism?”
The bell tolled the hour, and Aymeric got up. “I must away. Enjoy yourselves.”
“I shall endeavour to do my best,” Estinien said dryly.
Of course, Estinien was gone by the time of the actual ceremony. No one in Ishgard had seen him, and Aymeric knew better than to try and find him.
But Lady F’lhaminn had come, and before that great crowd of both Ishgardians and Dravanians, performed the Dragonsong as R’nyath conducted the orchestra, and Aymeric would swear there was not a dry eye among them all when it was done. R’nyath had been right. The full orchestra lent itself to the heartbreak of the song, the catharsis that followed, the power and emotion in that lone voice telling them the story that should never again be forgotten.
And when it was all done, the Warriors of Light, too, seemingly scattered to the winds, not one of them remaining in Ishgard past his investiture.
He understood, of course. The Starlight Celebration was approaching, and they all had homes and families to visit. Those who loved them would greatly appreciate their company, after they had nearly died for a land not their own. Even Achiyo must be among the Scions in Revenant’s Toll, with the Doman refugees there, her family in Eorzea-
So were his thoughts, as he walked by the airship landing on his way home one evening, when he caught sight of a dark, greenish dragon coming to land there. It was Midgardsormr, with Achiyo upon his back. He stopped to watch as she dismounted gracefully, then bowed to the dragon. Midgardsormr nodded back, then spread his wings again and flew off.
She turned and saw him, and smiled. He raised a hand in greeting and walked to meet her. “Well met, Lady Achiyo.”
“Well met, Aymeric-sama,” she said. “I have visited Hraesvelgr to return his Eye. You have been released from your travails?”
He laughed. “For an all-too-brief moment. I have yet more work awaiting me at home. I was only gazing out at the Sea of Clouds when I chanced to behold a certain hero wending her way towards the city on dragonback.” He hesitated, then said: “Welcome home.”
“Home,” she murmured to herself, and suddenly her eyes brightened. “Yes. Shall I walk with you? You were not waiting for me, I hope? I had not thought…”
“Nay, ’twas no grave matter that moved me to greet you in person,” he assured her, though they began to walk together – in the direction of Fortemps Manor. She might have offered to see him home, but really he ought to see her home instead. “Between you and me, I merely sought respite from the pressures of office… No sooner do I surrender my role as temporary head of state than I am burdened with a position of more permanent responsibility!”
“I am sorry for you,” she said. “Truly, I am. I know how much you longed to give it up. But I am not sorry for Ishgard. She could have chosen no better.”
Something resonated in his memory – Hraesvelgr rumbling “The best thou hast ever known…” “I fancy that it echoes in some small measure the way you must feel when your improbable feats of heroism are rewarded with still more impossible challenges…”
“Aymeric-sama!”
“Is that not what happens to the Warriors of Light?”
She sighed. “Perhaps it feels like it, sometimes…”
He sobered. “The myth which guided our society for generations lies in tatters – am I then to be scorned for building upon the system of nobility that I once sought to tear down? And what strange jest is this that places me at its pinnacle? An archbishop’s bastard at the head of the House of Lords…”
She thought earnestly on it, but he waved off his own questions before she could answer. “Ah, but these questions are for me to answer. It is not in any nature to change overnight. This I learned through painful experience. We must remember that it is not for us that we lay this groundwork, but for the men and women that our children will become.” Even as he said it, he wanted to swallow his own words – lest she think he was suggesting specific children and not general…
“Aymeric-sama,” she said instead. “Would you explain to me what a republic is? Lord Artoirel tried, but I am not sure I fully understood…”
He was sure Artoirel had explained it just fine, but he was not loath to speak with her more, and perhaps give her a different perspective on the new government. She listened attentively, and it seemed far too soon that they reached the door of Fortemps Manor and she realized that he had been escorting her, rather than the other way around. “Ah, we are… How…” She looked up at him in confusion. She really had not noticed where they had walked, or else she did not know where he lived. Or both.
“Pray forgive my little deception,” he said to her. “But you must be weary after your travels, and I have been sitting all day – a little more walking will do me no harm.”
She sighed and smiled. “Before we part ways, then, how is Estinien?”
“I have heard that he has vanished from his sickroom. His willfulness survives undiminished. Should you ever happen upon our unmannerly friend on your travels, pray assure him that I shall keep Ishgard safe until he deigns to come home.”
“I certainly shall,” she said, her smile growing ever broader, and his heart growing ever warmer to see it.
Author’s note: I just love how 3.3 ends, after all that emotion, the desperation, the triumph, the grandeur… it’s just you and Aymeric, having a chat, and then you go in to Tataru and Alphinaud, your family. So soft and intimate.