˚.♡blessed shadows♡.˚

Chapter 1

“By herself?!” Estinien’s voice could be heard yalms away, battle clashing on every which side—magitek whirring and blasting, battle cries ringing through the air from all sides, the unmistakable echo of aether pounding from the skies as spells were slung.

Immediately, armor was clanking against itself as Estinien took off in the direction he was pointed. Sariel was the lone back-up against Zenos yae Galvus, a man previously presumed dead. Sariel struck the man down herself, and she was determined to do it again. Estinien knew that and, knowing Sariel, she’d lay down her life to save another. It may even be worse that he knew that she was protecting Lyse and Lord Hien. He knew she was a capable woman, but also that she couldn’t do this alone. He learned hard lessons about trying to do things alone, and he would be damned if he lost her to that. Estinien didn’t trust Hien nor Lyse to outlast Sariel. He didn’t quite trust anyone, not with her life.

His mind panicked at the thought of losing Sariel. He couldn’t lose any more of what he loved, especially when he knows that he can do something about it. Thoughts pounding against his head as loud as his deafening heartbeat, the look of rage and panic had begun to plague his features. Faster, faster! Halone, please let me make it.

His thoughts were loud enough that everything else seemed to fade into white noise, slamming his feet down against the dirt as quickly as his body would let him. At last, he caught a glimpse of an outcropping ahead, a couple hundred yalms away. A flash of red illuminated the sky, right about where that outcropping was.

No

Estinien leaped, muscles in his legs tightening and flexing as he crouched and took off. He was airborne, desperately needing to get closer, to just be in time. He was sky bound until he slammed himself down into the earth, pushing off from his landing, he forced himself forward. Never had he pushed his legs to move him as fast.

A familiar voice pierced the air—past the pounding of his heart, past frantic thoughts of her dying, past the familiar pit of draconian rage he could hear, feel bubbling deep within him.

Sariel

Sariel was not the most vocal in battle, he learned that personally when they held the Azure Dragoon title and trained together. Even so, he heard her call out. A war cry?

No

Estinien jumped once more, then diving back down from the skies.

Sariel’s battered body began to collapse, her weight held up by a firm grasp on her lance. A grasp that began to slip… She had one knee to the ground, antiquated armor spattered with blood and dirt. Hair had been torn out of her ponytail, emerald strands falling over the pauldrons of her armor.

As Estinien’s body drew closer to earth, he witnessed the last of her strength leave her palm as her lance clattered to the ground. He swallowed, determination hot in his chest. Like a meteor, he collided into the ground, kicking up dust.

Zenos was ready to strike, sword drawn and extended. The perfect execution. The Warrior of Light at his feet, and finally he could rid that nuisance from this plane and continue with his methodically laid out plans. Finally, the death of a hero.

In a blindingly quick sweep, Estinien scooped up Sariel in his arms and leapt away—his elusive jump, meticulously practiced. Zenos, almost unfazed, turned only his head to look at where Estinien had stolen the Warrior of Light away to, not fifteen yalms from where she began to collapse before her execution. Estinien, as a rabid animal, whipped his head to meet Zenos’s gaze, Sariel’s body draped in his arms.

Zenos chuckled, voice deep and soaked with bloodlust, “What an unexpectedly exciting hunt…”

Estinien shifted, taking in his surroundings, knowing that he couldn’t fight off Zenos, not with her in the condition that she was in. His feral eyes were seeped in rage, piercing blue striking a hole through Zenos.

Zenos, assumedly satisfied with his brief taste of victory against the Warrior of Light, sheathed his blade, bloodlust only satiated for now. More importantly, other plans of his needed to be tended to. There would be another time for this.

Estinien, cradling his love in his arms, sped off in the direction he came from. She needed medical attention. He needed the nearest chirurgeon, and fast. Their metal armor, clanking and rubbing together like a warning alarm to move out of the way, lest you be toppled by the Elezen without a thought. He kept glancing down at her, finding new things to worry about each time. There was a smear of blood along her lip and cheek where it looked like she had wiped it away. One of her cheekbones was bruised a deep purple already. One of her nostrils, already swiped with blood, began to trickle with a little more. He pulled her a bit closer, as close as he really could being barred by their armor.

“Please,” a tear welled in his eye before he choked down a lump in his throat, “Survive,”

Chapter 2

Time passed. Anxiously, time passed. Estinien found himself at the edge of Sariel's bedside, seated in a short wooden chair with his clammy hands folded on top of the corner of the sheets. No one knew he was there and he wanted it that way. He wanted it that way so badly that he never once used the door; he would crack the windowpane and let himself in that way. When visitors arrived, he would depart the same way he came, most times waiting along the edge of the window sill until they left. He would never want anyone to find out how many hours he sat there between visits from the chirugeons and Scions, especially not her. Not Sariel. He saved her life, as she had saved his, yet he still felt as if he was in her debt. She showed him far too much kindness than he ever thought he deserved. That was why she could never know... She was too kind and would want to thank him, but he didn't want that. That was far too embarassing. And so he visited. At least that was what he told himself to allow himself to go. He told himself that it was only his duty to make sure that she was taken care of, that she would survive. He'd be beside himself if he saw that she was neglected after everything that happened. In any case, that was how he saw it. Everyone else allowed her to rush into a battle wherein her life was almost forfeit, and so he felt like he was the only person who could protect her and watch out for her. He didn't think anyone else was, otherwise she wouldn't have needed such dire saving.

Sariel had been wounded badly and had pushed her body past the point of exhaustion, so it was no surprise that she had slept for multiple days straight. The chirurgeons had tucked Sariel in meticulously so every time they came in for their check-ups, her poor beaten hands laid atop the sheets. Not once did she wake, groan maybe, but her eyes didn’t open once. Because of this, he would find his fingers creeping for hers… He was deathly afraid of touching her even though he wanted to so badly. He so desprately wanted to caress her hand despite his fears, to feel her warmth just as a comfort that she was still alive. He could see her chest rise and fall everso slightly, but her tranquil disposition worried him. Not only that... but despite the bruised knuckles, her hands looked so soft... What did the alabaster scales atop her hand feel like? How warm was she? What did her skin feel like? Were her palms rough and calloused from her training with a lance? Did her constant spell casting have an affect? Oh, how he wanted to find out. Each time he reached for her, he shook like a leaf then froze. What if he woke her? The thought of her seeing how pathetic he looked at her bedside made his stomach flutter and turn. Never. And so he observed.

There was a shuffle from the hallway, the voice of one of the chirurgeons could be heard at a low mumble. As always, their time was short. Estinien shot up from the chair and made for the window, quickly and easily slipping out and onto the thin stone ledge of the Ishgardian window sill. He shuffled off to the side and out of direct view, leaving the window about half-way open. He could easily hear what was happening inside, the clattering of medical supplies as they refreshed her bandages and checked her vitals. They would mutter to one another if there were two of them, sometimes to her as if she could hear them.

"There you are, Mistress Kha." A soft Elezen voice cooed, the slick noise of the sheets rustled as it rubbed against itself as she was tucked in neatly once again. The chirurgeon was heard collecting their supplies then leaving, the heavy wood door latching behind them.

Waiting a moment before returning to the room, Estininen snaked his lean frame through the window sill once again. As always, he took his place on the same wooden stool. And as always, he sat in their shared serene silence. He gazed upon the auri woman’s resting face as a forlorn prince would… His poor icy blue puppy dog eyes gave him away. He couldn’t help it, and if anyone were to see him like this he would never live it down. He felt the way the tips of his ears burned when he looked at her, the stars dancing behind his eyes. Each day he visited, he couldn’t help but to fantasize about what it’d feel like to dance with her amongst the stars he felt behind his eyes… the stars behind her eyes.

They had kissed once, after the heat of the battle and reunion of star-crossed lovers, Faunehm and Vedrfolnir. Estinien had swooped her into his arms and gazed into her eyes, truly and honestly, for the first time. His heart, pounding out of his chest through his throat, took control over his body for the moment. He closed his eyes and pulled her in for a kiss. Estinien was so nervous that he barely noticed that she was holding him as well. Her gloved hands supporting the back of his head… pulling him closer? Her lips were warm and soft and everything he had imagined them to be and more. She felt all the same, dazzled by his boldness, Sariel felt lightheaded and a storm of butterflies flooded her chest. Her face blushed into a deep sanguine red as she melted away on Estinien’s soft lips.

Estinien recalled the moment over and over again, losing himself in her features as he fantasized kissing her again. But he couldn’t help but feel anxious.

“She only but kissed you in the heat of the moment and that was all. Nothing more. It was a one time ordeal… She wouldn’t want to…” Estinien thought to himself, twiddling his nervous clammy fingers. Her dark wavy emerald hair was neatly combed, bangs pushed to the side of her forehead revealing reddened skin from a previous burn injury that had long since healed. The reddish scarring covered above her temple and eyebrow down and over her left eye. Her previously swollen cheekbones had calmed to finally show her soft yet strong shape, vanilla scales accentuating her high bone structure.

Estinien had seldom seen Sariel in anything less than full armor or mage robes. To see her in a simple white tunic was… different. He could see how the scales that started on her face reached all the way down her neck and down the front of her chest some, at least what he could see at the notched collar. Kissing her lips was one thought… What of her neck? The thought made his face light up like an Isgardian fire pit. How would the scales on her neck feel like beneath his lips… they looked soft and pliable from the distance he kept himself at. He dared not to move any closer lest he get tempted further. He readjusted his posture, crossing one ankle over his knee and crossing his arms. He leaned back slightly, feeling flustered and considered taking a break to get some air. After a moment of focused breathing, Estinien found himself unable to rid any of the thoughts from his mind. He kept replaying their kiss… Thinking of her neck, of where the scales on her chest may stop… What of the ones on her hands that ran up her sleeves? Where did those end? Did they connect with the ones along her neck and chest? That would mean that they covered her shoulders… or her back… What parts were soft pale skin and what parts cream-kissed draconic scales?

Having had enough, he stood from the chair with a certain swiftness and made his way for the window. The air was too hot in there, he needed the brisk Ishgardian cold. He pushed the window open a bit more, as he did, he heard a soft groan from behind him. Oh Sariel? Was she awake? Estinien looked over his shoulder, seeing her grip the blankets beneath her palms slightly. She mumbled something but he couldn’t quite hear from the distance he had put between them. He couldn’t risk being seen, not by her and especially not now. He swung his strong lean frame out of the window, then pushing it mostly closed behind him.

Estinien was unaware that not but an hour later, as Sariel was being monitored by the chirurgeon’s young assistant, she had awoken to the poor girl’s surprise. Sariel seemed to rise like the dead and nearly scared the girl to death, causing her to yelp and shout as she scrambled out of the room shouting that the Warrior of Light had risen from the dead before her very eyes. Aymeric was one of the first to hear the declaration and came to her side to explain the events thereafter her fall. He also let her know that Estinien was the one who had saved her life; brought her back clutching onto her body and refusing to leave her with anyone he didn’t personally recognize and trust. Additionally, he confided that there were sometimes a mysterious visitor that could occasionally be heard at her bedside but no one ever saw who it was… As he told her this, Aymeric gazed up and directly at the cracked window nearest to the bed, motioning for her to look herself. Sariel followed his gaze and easily connected the dots. She made eye contact with Aymeric, wherein they both smiled and giggled with one another. They both knew it was Estinien.

Aetherochemical Research Facility...

After's King Thordan's fall...

Thordan's greatsword, laid bare on the ground, its wielder's spirit departed... Sariel, a bit winded from her clash with the king himself, propped herself up using her staff and gave a large sigh.

"Sariel," Estinien rushed in to the last room, finally unsealed from the magics that barred him from rushing in before, trying to expunge the sense of concern from his voice, "Is it over, then? I had hoped that mine would be the hand to end it... but knowing you, there was little chance of that."

She sighed and knelt down and laid her staff at her feet, retrieving Nidhogg's eye herself from Thordan's blade. Before taking back to her feet, she took her staff into her hand again to steady herself with it. Her other hand firmly grasping Nidhogg's eye. She looked up to Estinien and handed over what she believed to be his to determine the fate of, "Aye. The king has been felled and Nidhogg's eye retrieved."

After Sariel had handed Estinien the eye plucked from Thordan's blade, she had stopped to take a breath, closed her eyes to rest for but a moment. Estinien took the eye, palming it over and examining it. A deep red haze seemed to emit from it... But it must have been his imagination. He was tired from the travels. He could remember a time where there wasn't a day that passed by that he didn't feel like he didn't see red already... But he believed that those times were behind him, and yet he could still remember it so vividly.

"Aye... it's 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." Estinien stated as he examined it alongside the other eye bequeathed to him before.

His hands suddenly became hot with aether, the sensation tearing up his arms through his veins like liquid fire. Estinien's mind clouded, a deep ancient speech rang through his mind. The words were indiscernible and yet he understood them precisely as Nidhogg had intentioned them... his toilings and demands, his words drenched in a layer of hatred as thick and black as tar. Estinien's body trembled as he felt his aether being torn asunder from within, losing his sense of self within the pain.

Instantly, a haunting chill ran up Sariel's spine. Her eyes snapped open and she rushed to try to meet Estininen's gaze from beneath his helm, "Estinen... Estinen?"

~"Thou hadst done well to resist mine influence, bathed in my power and blood as thou wert. Alas, in thine anticipation of comfort, thou hast lowered thy guard!"~ Nidhogg's voice echoed within Estinien's mind.

Estinien found himself flashed with a recent memory, one of Sariel. It seemed like only a few moons ago when they were within the Sea of Clouds. At the time he wanted to dismiss the feeling as a symptom of the high altitude, but the way that she looked at him beneath the bright sunlight... it stole his breath away and he felt dizzy. She turned to look at him with those rich orange eyes, one of them highlighted by a shining golden ring. Oh, and he couldn't help but get lost within them like a dragon reveling in his horde of gold. Then she had smiled at him and it felt like his heart had stopped...

The image of her was torn away, replaced with screams of anguish of the ones he lost before... His family, his home, his comrades... Reminders of his own loneliness and isolation. His anger was revived as a deep volcano stirred within once more, beginning to erupt from every pore in his body.

~"The keening of my fallen kindred... Their smoldering desire for vengeance... Mine eyes have partaken of a thousand years of pain--a pain which I shall bestow upon thee."~

In a moment's flash, he thought of what else he might lose... Sariel's voice rang through his mind as soft and distant as a windchime, calling out his name as she desperately tried to reach him...

~"Drink deep of my rage, mortal... AND BECOME ME!"~

She looked to the eyes, smoldering with a deep red aether that began to bleed up Estinien's arms. Sariel panicked, unsure what to do or how to help, she called for him louder. Her trembling hands dropped her staff to the ground so she could rip the eyes from Estinein's grasp. Before she could touch them, her hands froze then trembled in fear and hesitation. She called for him once more then lunged forward towards one of the eyes... but it was far too late.

"Get away from me!" a deep and strangled voice called out from within Estinien, a voice not quite his constricting his own.

Unable to control his body, Estinien lashed out, a partially draconic figure taking form. His armor twisted into wretched claws as he struck Sariel down trying to push her away. She couldn't help but to collapse down to her knees, clutching her wound and wracked with pain... Estinien, his humanoid form almost no longer his own, loomed over her. His body fought against his will, resulting in his malformed Elezen form to tremble and twitch. Estinien's eyes gazed down upon the companion he had struck down, eyes full of mournful regret, fear, and shock. Their eyes met and locked as they whisked themselves into one another's gaze, they began to drown in one another's anguish, both of them deadly afraid of losing one another.

He felt trapped within his body, but without control as he witnessed himself strike down Sariel. He was reminded of Nidhogg's threat--'a thousand years of pain...a pain which I shall bestow upon thee...' Estinien's body filled with a deep rage for Nidhogg and how he manipulated his body to hurt someone that he held dear to his heart. Yet, he was filled with a deep fear of feeling helpless as he did when he was a child... When Nidhogg took his family from him, his village from him. He cowered, his frame hunching over Sariel, menacing. Estinien's soul recoiled within himself as he crumbled under the pain of a thousand images of those whom he lost and a million images of the ways he could lose the rest. Tears streamed down his face like rivers as his eyes bled into a striking draconic red.

"Estinien please! Thou aren't alone! Please, do not succumb to the wyrm's silvered tongue!" Sariel cried out to him, tears flooding her eyes as she witnessed Estinein's body burst, tear, and change before her. She remained collapsed on the ground, grasping her fresh chest wound.

None of her words reached him, for his ears rang from Nidhogg's deafening voice and roar, all too overpowering. Estinien's mind, overcome and overstimulated by Nidhogg, his body had followed. He screamed, deep anguish and suffering apparent from within, as he transformed into the great wyrm himself, Nidhogg. His flesh and armor tore at their seams, the distinct sound of rending flesh and metal echoing through the tower. Estinein's abhorred eyes reflected that of the frightened child within. Those crimsoned eyes remained affixed on Sariel, pouring with tears and screaming out silent apologies. Estinien roared out again and as quickly as he transformed, the dragon had spread his wings and propelled himself skywards through an opening in the tower windows.

Sariel called out his name once again hoping there was a chance he could hear her, but she knew otherwise. She stared for what felt like ages into the sky above Azys Lla. Tears welled and overflowed again and again. She felt it. She felt so close to him opening up. She felt him growing. He was no longer a slave to his own hatred and vengeance seeking, and yet... She fell forward on her hands, slamming her fists down.

She screamed out in anguish, pounding her fists to the ground repeatedly, knuckles beginning to bloody, "Why him... Why must some of us never heal... Why does he need to be a warden of such suffering... such loss..."

Sariel choked and sobbed on her hands and knees at the peak of the Aetherochemical Research Facility for what felt like forever to her. Eventually, she slowed her breathing, collected her staff, and used it to prop herself up on her feet. Her staff doubled as a walking stick so she could steadily make her way towards the exit, her other hand held to the wound that Estinien had struck across her chest... Midgarsormr offered words of wisdom and kindness towards her, but alas, it felt flat as her mind wandered out towards him. She knew that she could bring him back to her... She knew that he was still in there.

What is he thinking!?

As soon as Dhoro figured out what was happening, he stormed back towards the Eight Sentinels and the Crystal Tower as fast as possible. His yol carried him as quick as he pleaded his old feathered friend to take him. The remainder of NOAH and the familiar band of Ironworks engineers were not far behind. Dhoro arrived first, leaping from the back of his yol and sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him.

I can’t lose him! I haven’t even… Damn it! There’s so much I haven’t told him!

Tears welled in Dhoro’s eyes, but they were choked back, wiped away, and forced down before he could face G’raha Tia. Earlier in the day, Dhoro had mustered the courage to finally leave a letter for G’raha in his belongings before they ventured out for the day. It was a poem that he’d rewritten a million times over. It was an innocent and genuine confession of his love and feelings. He had hoped that on one of the last excursions up the tower, that he could hold onto him past the completion of the mission. He had hoped that maybe, just maybe, he had seen the same thing in his eyes too during their time together…

The two had exchanged many evenings of conversation, sharing common interests in the arts and a shared love for reading. Many hours burned away chatting by the campfire or in comfort of a tent in the outskirts of Mor Dhona. Dhoro had never been one for small talk and generally hated long conversations, but G’raha enraptured him in a way he couldn’t stay away from. Not once during their conversations did Dhoro bring up how G’raha made him feel. He wouldn’t have even been able to speak the words without fumbling, which was precisely why he had opted to record it on parchment for him. He wanted him much more than as a fellow adventurer. Dhoro felt like he’d do anything to protect him… His dreams, his goals, his smile…

He bounded up stairs and through hallways, starting to feel a burning in his legs as he pushed them as fast as he’s ever pushed them before. Dhoro’s fingertips felt numb and he thought his heart was going to pound straight through his rib cage. Then finally, there he was. The shock of his bright red hair was clearly visible from far away.

“G’raha Tia!!” Dhoro shouted, his loud voice bellowed and echoed through the vast height of the hallways of the crystalline tower. G’raha turned around to face him, stupid kind smile radiating as it always did. Dhoro thought his heart burst in that moment, his knees weakened slightly slowing him to a jog.

“Don’t do this!” He called out, voice whimpering slightly as he swallowed the pit in his throat. By the Dawn Throne, Dhoro was furious but more so, he was scared out of his wits. But inside he knew what needed to be done… Ugh! How dare you tear my heart out and replace the cavity with a storm of butterflies. What self-sacrificial nonsense is this?

“Please…” Dhoro added to the end—softly, inaudibly, woefully.

He reached the door where it started it all, the entrance to the Crystal Tower unlocked by Unei and Doga. Dhoro’s poor hurting soul began to curse everyone around him, even those who didn’t deserve it.

Those fools, if they hadn’t sacrificed themselves then maybe… maybe he wouldn’t have gotten this big idea!

Dhoro straightened his posture, swallowing hard and balling up his fists at his sides. Every muscle in his body tensed as he approached G’raha in large strides, trying desperately to keep himself together. Then G’raha looked up at him with those crimson eyes of his and Dhoro stopped breathing for a moment.

The tall Xaela man approached confidently and in large strides, his eyes never leaving G’raha as he did.

“You idiot!” He snarled, closing in the distance between them with one more large step, he snatched the collar of the small miqo’te’s shirt with both hands.

G’raha let out a light gasp, surprised that Dhoro had laid such harsh hands upon him and so suddenly too. He glanced down at his hands, then back up to Dhoro’s face, “In all due time, I-“

“You know I’ll wait.” Dhoro cut him off, his voice quivered at the last word… Tears inevitably welled up, further illuminating the electric green in his eyes. G’raha was left speechless and turned bright red. In that moment, Dhoro squeezed his eyes shut letting the tears roll down his cheeks. He lifted the miqo’te off of his feet and planted a kiss directly on his lips.

Shocked, G’raha’s eyes shot wide open. But Dhoro was right and he did see the same reflections twinkling in G’raha’s eyes… G’raha softened and closed his eyes, cupping Dhoro’s face with both hands as he kissed him back. The two had long stared at each other, wondering, hoping, wanting the other one to want him back but never finding the courage to make that first step. Not until today.

Whatever G’raha said that would happen, Dhoro trusted… Dhoro honestly had no idea if he’d ever see him again, but something about G’raha made him believe in him. He trusted that whether it be in this life or the next, they would be together again.

Even this one meeting was worth it because I saw you again. I feel like I have always known you and that I will know you again and again. Until the very world stands still.

Not long after, Dhoro lightly set G’raha back down on his feet. Tears streamed down both of their faces quietly, yet neither made effort to wipe anything away. Dhoro sniffled and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, gazing down and away slightly, unable to hide his beet-red face but that didn’t stop him from trying for a brief moment. G’raha couldn’t help but smile, oh so sweetly, from ear to ear. Dhoro knew he couldn’t convince G’raha to stay. He already did the one single thing that he hoped would convince him to do so…

“I heard you shout! Have you found him, Dhoro?” Rammbroes hollered after Dhoro, his rapid footsteps echoing through the hallway. Dhoro took a deep breath in and dried his face, taking a few steps back behind the door once again.

Stoically, he locked eyes with G’raha and cocked his head to the side to shout back at Rammbroes, “Aye, he’s in here!”

Rammbroes caught up, as did Biggs, Wedge, and Cid. G’raha explained his plan and intentions regarding the Crystal Tower and his lineage. Dhoro stood and listened—silent, stoic, and still. Never once did he avert his gaze from G’raha Tia even as the doors closed. He stood there, for just a moment longer than his friends had anticipated.

Not fully sure, Biggs placed a reassuring hand upon his shoulder, “Lets head home, aye?”

Dhoro, voice low and very obviously depressed in tone, responded with eyes unmoving, “Sure.”

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