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A Gentleman of Garlemald

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When the Warrior finally awakens, her body is heavy, from her toes to her eyelids. It is a struggle to move even those, and when she does she is greeted by darkness that is only mitigated by a faint blue glow off to her left. It takes some ponderous amount of time to realize that the glow accompanies a faint low mechanical hum, and that it is coming from a ceruleum powered radiator.

She closes her eyes and considers her body. While feeling heavy, she is not met with any extreme amounts of pain. This does not surprise her or do much to stir the muddy waters of her thoughts, as she did not feel particularly wounded after her battle with the eikon. However, when she tries to move her arms, it feels as though something is holding them down. The Warrior grunts faintly in irritation.

From somewhere else in the dark room, she hears a stirring, and a voice quietly murmurs out ‘oh?’. Another orb of blue light appears, glowing from a magitek lantern held aloft by a soldier. They step closer.

“Lady Lux, are you awake?”

It takes her a moment to recognize the voice. “Caspian?”

“Yes, my Lady. I’m honored that you remember me.”

“Of course I--Nevermind that.” She tries to move to sit up but cannot. “What is going on? I can’t move.”

“Oh, that’s the blankets. Just a moment.” The centurion sets down the lamp on a bedside table. They pull back the blankets covering the Warrior, and she immediately finds that she can lift her hands. “Weighted blankets, my Lady. They kept you from hurting yourself while you recuperated.”

“Hurting myself? I’m not sure I follow.” She sits up, immediately regretting it as her muscles painfully prickle in protest at the movement.

“Ah, well, the medicus said that you used up too much aether fighting the eikon and collapsed afterwards. You came in with quite a few bumps and bruises. Bone fractures and the like. The weighted blankets restricted your movements more safely than using magic that might disrupt your body’s natural regeneration process.”

“Oh.” She tries to make sense of their words. “I’m sure that will make more sense later, when my head isn’t swimming.” She peers around the dark room. “Where am I?”

“In Garlemald, in the palace’s infirmary hall. This is a recovery room, usually used for soldiers who suffered from aether poisoning while in Eorzea.” The centurion nods. “Just rest a bit longer, my Lady. His Radiance will be back soon enough.”

“Varis?”

They chuckle. “He has been here more often than not, just watching you rest. Sleeping in the chair next to your bed every night.”

“Every night… How long has it been since we fought the eikon?”

“Nearly a week.”

“Oh.” She rubs her forehead. “Wait, what about Zenos? Is he--” She cuts off her own question. The centurion turns their head away.

“He yet lives.” Their usually cheerful tone turns a bit flat. “It is better that the Emperor talks to you about Zenos than I.”

The Warrior feels an inexplicable pang of relief at the knowledge that the prince survived his injuries from the eikon. “Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you, Cas.”

 

True to the centurion’s word, it is not long before the medicus arrives with the Emperor in tow. Varis is not in his armor, instead wearing gray slacks and tunic under a white and red coat. The Emperor’s eyes immediately go to the Warrior’s face. His eyes are fixated on her as he dismisses the centurion out into the hallway. Medicus Shaw hums in patient amusement as the big man pushes past him to take his place at the Warrior’s bedside. Varis whispers her name into her forehead, then shifts to press his lips to hers.

The Emperor takes his seat next to the bed. His big hands fold themselves around her left hand. The medicus stands on the other side of the bed, adjusting his glasses as he peers down at her.

“Well, Lady Lux, it is good to see you awake.”

“Yes… They said it’s been nearly a week?”

“Six days, yes.” The medicus nods. “We lightly sedated you for the first few days, along with using these weighted blankets, in order to prevent you from moving in your sleep and worsening your injuries. ‘Tis been a few days now since that wore off, and we have been awaiting your natural awakening.”

“Hopefully you got the dosage right this time,” she says. Varis coughs softly, and the medicus makes a puzzled noise.

“Yes, I believe so.” He holds a small magitek device over her chest for a moment, until it pings three times. “Your vitals are stable, healthy for your race. Quite similar to the ones we have on file from your incar---your stay on the Gration .”

“That is good, yes?” The Emperor peers across the bed.

“Yes, Your Radiance.” Medicus Shaw looks at him, and then down the Warrior. “Lady Lux, when you first arrived back here at the palace, I would say that you were in worse shape than Prince Zenos, at least when it came to your aether. You, ah--” He glances at the Emperor, whose attention is focused again on the Warrior, before continuing. “I have seen the data collected by observing vessels during your fight with the eikon. It shows that you slew the eikon with a burst of aetheric energy several magnitudes greater than what is contained within your own body. We… are not certain how you accomplished this, though we are quite glad at the results.”

“I don’t remember,” she says.

“Not surprising. Whatever you did, it drained most of your inherent aether, and you collapsed a few minutes later.”

The Warrior looks at Varis. “I’m sorry to have worried you.”

“You survived your battle alive and in one piece. That is all that I could have hoped for.” He shakes his head slowly. “I knew that you would recover, given time.”

She thinks of the battle. “Were there any casualties?”

“A few,” Varis says in a careful tone. “But far fewer than if we had attempted a more direct assault on the eikon. Do not stress over those details right now. I will give you a full debriefing of the situation when you are fully back on your feet.”

“Thank you.” She smiles at him. “I am still feeling a little tired.”

“Yes, well,” the medicus speaks up. “Seeing as you are awake and coherent, I would say that it is safe for you to conduct the remainder of your recuperation in your own chambers. No strenuous activity for a week or so, of course.”

“Of course. Thank you, Medicus Shaw.” She closes her eyes for a moment, but then reopens them and looks at her hand, still held delicately between her lovers’. “What of Zenos?”

“He lives,” Varis says.

“Yes, my guard said as much.”

The medicus clears his throat. “Prince Zenos is… in rough condition. Worry not, he has the best medici and healers tending to him.”

“I wish to see him.”

“He is resting,” is Varis’ simple protest. “As you should continue to.”

“He is awake,” the medicus interjects in a careful tone. “Perhaps a… friendly visitor might lighten his increasingly dour mood. That is, of course, if Your Radiance does not object.”

The Emperor frowns, but then shakes his head. “Very well. I doubt there will be much harm in you stopping to see him on your way back to our quarters. But, just for a moment.”

“Thank you, dear.”

 

It takes some time to get the Warrior back on her feet. She is unsteady at first, muscles forgetful after several days in bed. She keeps her hand tucked into the crook of the Emperor’s elbow as he guides her out of the sick room. Julia, Annia, and Caspian are all waiting in the hall, and all three allow themselves a brief show of happiness at seeing the Warrior on her feet before returning to proper decorum.

“So, why Caspian?” the Warrior wonders as they make their way down an unfamiliar hallway.

“I trust them,” says Varis. “They proved themselves as worthy of being your guard in Doma, and so I have reappointed them as your personal guard.”

“My personal guard?” She looks over her shoulder. Julia and Annia are keeping their usual distance. After them, a few steps behind, the centurion is bringing up the rear.

“For when times necessitate it, yes.”

“Oh. Thank you, Varis.” She smiles. “They said you slept in the chair next to my bed.”

“I did.”

“Well, then, I insist you rest a bit with me in our quarters. The chair cannot be good for your back.”

The Emperor clears his throat. “Yes, yes, as her ladyship wishes.”

He leads her to another door, and opens it after knocking lightly.

“Call for me if you need me,” Varis says. “Be careful.”

The Warrior steps into a room with gray walls reaching up to a high ceiling, solely lit by the dim light streaming through the windows. There is a bed on one wall, where its occupant looks strangely small among the oversized fixtures. The convalescing prince is staring dully at the windows, and does not look in her direction even as she reaches the foot of the bed. 

The Warrior cannot see the full extent of Zenos’ physical state. He has a white sheet pulled up to his chest. His left arm is bare, but for a few small bandages. His right arm is completely bound in bandages from wrist to shoulder, and up nearly to his neck. The prince’s hair is oily, and stubble is creeping over the bruises that decorate his face.

“Zenos.” She takes a seat on the stool next to the infirmary bed. “I wanted to see how you were doing. They told me you survived. I was glad to hear it.”

He does not respond. She sits and listens to the faint wheeze that sounds with each breath. It is a pained sound, one that makes her think of the reports of cracked ribs and blood in the lungs. It is a marvel to her that the prince is breathing on his own after only a few days of treatment.

“You fought very well, Zenos. I was glad to have you on my side.”

No response.

“I--” The Warrior hesitates and looks to the door. She lowers her voice. “I was a little terrified when you fell. I--I don’t think I could handle seeing another comrade die in front of me.” She swallows. “I know that’s selfish of me. But, I’m still glad that you’re alive.”

The prince does not move, aside from a slow blink of his long lashes. 

The Warrior sighs and moves to stand. “Well, I will leave you alone. Varis said that I shouldn’t bother you too overlong.”

“Wait.”

She stops at the croaked word. The prince’s gaze has shifted just enough to be looking in her direction.

“I should have died on that roof,” Zenos whispers, voice even more full of gravel than normal. “I had a dream--a vision of it. I died among the flowers.” His eyes widen. “Why did I not die?”

“Sometimes…” She considers his weary plea. “Sometimes, visions and dreams do not show us what will happen, just what might. If you were truly meant to have died on that roof, Zenos, then you would have.”

The prince’s expression slackens, and again he murmurs: “I should have died.”

“I’m glad that you didn’t. I--” She stops, uncertain how to continue the statement.

Zenos is silent again, his eyelids drooping nearly closed. 

The Warrior gets to her feet. The prince’s face ticks with a pained grimace, and she reaches out to press the back of her hand to his forehead. His skin is cool to her touch. He does not move to swat her away. She looks around the infirmary room, noting a cabinet with several jars and towels on its top shelf. Going over, she opens the drawers until finding a dark blue woolen blanket. The Warrior retrieves the covering and returns to the bed.

Zenos remains motionless as the Warrior carefully drapes the blanket over his chest and shoulders, being mindful of his bandages.

“There you go. Nice and cozy.” She smiles. “Get your rest, Zenos. You’ve earned it.”

He closes his eyes.

 

By the time she returns to the hall, the Warrior is nearly exhausted. She is half tempted to ask Varis to carry her back to their quarters, but doesn't. He does nothing to hide the quick once-over he gives her after the door is closed.

“Well?”

“He was awake, sort of,” she says. She isn’t certain she should mention Zenos’ morbid thoughts. “He seemed sad.”

Varis gives a disbelieving grunt. “If he is ‘sad’, it is only because he cannot run around and fight things.”

The Warrior hooks her hand into the bend of his arm as they continue walking. She thinks of Zenos’ statement--that he should have died on the roof. “What were his injuries?”

“A collection that on most mortal men would have been fatal,” Varis says. “My son is, of course, made of stronger stuff.”

“Yes, but--” She stumbles as her energy flags, and her nails dig into his sleeve in a bid not to collapse to the floor. There is a trio of alarmed noises from the guards, but Varis is swift to respond. He lifts her into his arms and tucks her carefully against his broad chest. The Warrior snuggles against his warmth. She thinks again of Zenos, alone in the cold infirmary.

“You carried him off the battlefield,” she murmurs. At Varis’ curious rumble, she says: “Zenos. I remember that.”

“I did,” the Emperor admits. “I was the only one who could.”

“The soldiers could have managed.”

Varis does not initially respond.

They are heading down the hall to the royal chambers before the Emperor whispers: “They would have hurt him.”

 

The Warrior spends much of the next few days in bed. Medicus Shaw comes and checks on her daily, using his strange little magitek devices to check on her vitals and various bodily functions. Varis spends as much time with her as he can manage--the Empire is ever demanding of his attention. She tests her recovery by pacing up and down the length of the hall outside the royal chambers. The centurion is out there in the hall, watching her and answering questions when they come to mind.

From Varis she learns that the venture to destroy Shinryu safely was deemed to be mostly a success. There were minimal imperial casualties--two on a battleship that the eikon destroyed, and a few more that died when the Ala Mhigan forces invaded the castle during the fight. The Ala Mhigans fared less fortunate, as more than a dozen of their number were tempered during their ill-advised incursion and had to be put down afterwards. The situation in Gyr Abania, according to the latest reports, was tense but quiet. A brief linkpearl conversation with Alphinaud consoled the Warrior with the knowledge that the Scions were all presently safe either in Rhalgr’s Reach or back in Mor Dhona.

The news regarding Zenos was more grim. He had nearly died twice on the trip back to Garlemald, even with the best healers tending to his wounds. His lungs had repeatedly filled with blood, most of his ribs were cracked or broken, and his right arm had been shattered from shoulder to elbow. Even now, with the prince’s condition stabilized, there is still talk amongst the healers that his arm is going to have to be amputated, for even if the flesh manages to heal the limb will never function again.

She thinks she understands the prince’s despair. He was denied a glorious death in battle, and was left with his body broken despite their victory. She pities the man, but keeps the thought to herself. The Scions would not understand or sympathize, and Varis would likely only try to avoid discussing the unpleasant subject.

 

Another subject that the Emperor is reluctant to touch is the wounds to the Warrior herself. He still holds her in bed and snuggles with her on the study sofa while they listen to the evening radio broadcasts. But when Medicus Shaw is present to inspect her recovery and refresh her bandages, Varis makes himself scarce. She doesn’t ask him why--she thinks she knows. The Warrior suspects that the man does not like the reminder that his lady love is just as fragile and mortal as any other person, despite her gifts and strengths.

Seven days after waking in the dark room, the Warrior is declared ‘as well as can be hoped’ by the medicus.

“Your aether seems to be regenerating properly. Aside from some lingering tenderness, I think with a few more visits from the healers, you should be ready for service in another week.”

She watches the Hyur scribble down some notes. “I feel like I got off lucky, compared to Zenos.”

“Well, you aren’t short of an arm, no. But, you could have just as easily killed yourself from such severe aetheric depletion. I suspect the only thing that saved you was being the Warrior of Light.”

The Warrior nods in understanding. It is not the first time she has been told such a thing. She suspects it will not be the last.

“I’ll clear you for general activity,” says the medicus. “Don’t let His Radiance get too rough with you, not for a few more weeks.”

Her cheeks flush. “That isn’t really any of your business.”

“Perhaps not.” The medicus puts his equipment away in a case. “But, it will be if you hurt something in bed. Or when you fall pregnant.”

She huffs softly and crosses her arms. “The men here in Garlemald seem quite beguiled by the prospect of me getting pregnant.”

“Ah, well--” Now it was the doctor’s turn to fluster. “It’s been a long time since any children have been around the palace.”

“Is that it? Surely you have your own children to fawn over at home.”

He shakes his head. “Oh, no no. My husband and I didn’t have the time. We were too focused on our military careers.” The medicus clears his throat. “I know it isn’t my business, Lady Lux, and I will not press the issue. Just take care of yourself.”

“Yes, yes. You can tell Varis that he can stop hiding in the study on your way out.”

“At your word, Lady Lux.”

The Warrior sits on the edge of the bed and inspects her forearms. There are still a few bruises present, mostly from being thrown about by the eikon. Her armor did its job, and the only places where she received any bloodletting were where the eikon’s claws tore into her carbonweave. She knows she could have fared much worse. Zenos is living proof of that.

The Emperor's armor is pristine on its stand, but is a touch lonely in appearance with its neighboring stand empty. Her armor is off being repaired, having taken the greater brunt of her damages during the battle.

A short time after the medicus has left the room, the Warrior hears the slow step of the Emperor approaching down the hall. She hurriedly pushes down the sleeves of her robe, covering up the marks on her arms. Varis arrives in the doorway, robe thrown on over his turtleneck and slacks. He is nearly silhouetted, but for the hallway light causing his pale hair to glow.

“Come here, beautiful,” she says, and holds her hands out to him. Varis stares down at her, lips parted slightly and his brows pinched together.

“Do you need something?”

“Just you. So, come here.” She wiggles her fingers and turns her palms up. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me, Varis.”

“I--I have no intention of harming you.”

The Warrior smiles patiently up at her lover. “I know. Farthest thing from your mind. I want you to see that I am okay.”

The floorboards creak as the Emperor takes a step into their bedroom. “You were so very cold when they brought you on board. They stripped you out of your armor, and you were like ice. But you were not shivering.” Varis frowns. “I was afraid. I was going to lose the both of you in one shot.”

She licks her lips. “You knew that was a possibility when we took the field. But, it didn’t happen, Varis. We’re all still alive. You and me and Zenos.”

“He will hate me for what has happened to him.”

“He chose to join the fight.” The Warrior thinks of the prince’s words. “Perhaps his only real regret is surviving the battle.”

“Do you think so?”

“Just a feeling that I got when I talked to him.”

The frown lingers, but he moves closer to the bed. He reaches out, big hands folding over hers.

“You’re warm,” he notes. She smiles at him.

“I am, yes. You’ve kept me safe and warm.”

The Emperor lifts her left hand closer to his face. He turns it over, his golden gaze settling on the dark band on her ring finger. “I cannot recall the last time I felt so utterly powerless, as at the moment of our success… Holding my son in my arms, and watching you collapse lifeless to the ground. I felt like… like…” He shakes his head.

“To live is to daily face death,” she says. “Doubly so when we throw ourselves into battle against the gods.”

Varis sighs and squeezes her hands. “Had I my way, you would never go into battle again.”

“And I the same for you, and for Zenos, and for everyone on this star.”

“Zenos…”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“I--” The big man hesitates before nodding. “I tried to. He was awake, but according to the medici he is not very responsive.”

“He’s listening. He’s just upset.”

Varis grunts. “Well. I am glad that you are not silent. My heart could not take such treatment.”

She rises to her feet, careful never to break her gaze with the man. “I will do my best to keep your heart whole.”

The Emperor looks sheepish for a moment before nodding. “And I yours.”

“Good.” She curls her fingers in his grip and leans closer. “I’m going to take a bath. And you’re going to join me.”

“Of course.”

 

“Rose oil? I have several--Azeyma’s, blue thorn…”

While the tub fills, the Emperor fidgets in front of his collection of bathing oils and tonics. He has stripped down to his smallclothes, and is standing with his back to the Warrior while she gingerly extracts herself from her clothing.

“Just pick whatever you like.” Her breath catches painfully as she stretches. “Help me out of this, please?”

There is a soft click of glass as Varis sets a bottle down on the counter. His warmth is quickly upon her, big hands moving to grasp at the offending fabric. She holds still, watching his face as her skin is bared. She can see his focus dart from bruise to bruise.

“I’m okay,” she says. Varis licks his lips, and his fingertips touch lightly at the periphery of a bruise that is still livid on her lower ribcage. “I promise.” At his doubtful expression, she adds: “I’ve seen your scars, Varis. You’ve had far worse injuries than this.”

“Yes, but--” His fingers ghost over her skin. “You are my little sunflower. I do not want anything to happen to you.”

“Your--” The Warrior stutters out a laugh as her cheeks flush red. “I don’t think anyone has called me that before.”

“Well, you are.” His lips purse. “Seeing you like this makes me feel as though I have failed in my duties to you.”

“I yet live, and with only these fairly minor injuries, because you have done your duty to the fullest, Varis. It was your work with the battleships that made it possible for the eikon to be defeated.”

“You are just saying that to make me feel better.”

The Warrior smiles. “I’m saying it because I mean it. You and the Sixth and Twelfth legions are just as responsible for our victory over the eikon as Zenos and I.”

“Yes, well…” His cheeks pink, and he tucks his chin toward his chest. “The attack was well-coordinated.”

“It was.” She reaches up and cups her palm gently along the hard line of his jaw. “Thank you, my love.”

“I--” He falters, looking briefly into her eyes before dropping his gaze to her chest. “Anything for you.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

She pats his cheek. “Into the tub, then.”

Varis hesitates for a moment. His reluctance is plain in his eyes. But then he nods and steps away. The Warrior watches him cut off the flow of water into the big tub. While he is busy with this, she hurriedly wiggles her way out of the rest of her attire. She is kicking her smallclothes aside as the big man turns to face her.

“Ah.” His gaze darts about her figure--face, chest, thighs, face again--and he swallows. “Such beauty, marred by such violent paint.”

“‘Tis temporary,” she soothes. “Soon all that will remain are a few scars to remind us of our victory.”

Varis takes no more coaxing to join her in the bath. He removes his smallclothes and then steps into the half-full basin. He holds a hand out to her, but the Warrior shakes her head and carefully sits on the edge of the tub. The Emperor kneels before her in the water, his gaze nearly reverent as it travels from her face and down her front. When his eyes reach her toes, tickling against the surface of the water, he lets out a sigh.

“I would happily cast aside my crown to be naught more than the man standing guard at your back.”

The Warrior smiles and shakes her head. “You can protect me just as well with the crown on.” She wiggles her toes. “If not better.”

He hums softly, hands cutting through the warm water to capture her left foot. Varis lifts it, turning it slightly as he sights up the line of her calf. His lips feather over a greening bruise on her knee, and she has to hold back a laugh as his soft hair tickles at her thighs. Varis moves to the other knee, pressing a kiss there, then another higher up. He pauses to inspect the nascent scars on her outer thigh. He presses a kiss to each mark, leaving none untouched, none unobserved. His big hands cup at her bottom and scoot the Warrior closer to the lip of the tub, permitting his lips easier access to her upper thighs. 

She breathes a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve any injuries there.”

“Does not hurt to check.”

Varis does not linger long between her thighs, staying just long enough to tease his tongue along her folds. He applies just enough pressure on her clit to elicit a breathy gasp from her, then kisses the flushed skin and moves on.

“My queen,” he whispers, mouthing at a small bruise on her abdomen. “My empress.”

“Yours.” Her fingers slide over the back of his head, locating the bindings on his hair and loosening the braids. His lips find the purple mark on her ribs.

“My love.” Varis murmurs the words again into her skin as his mouth moves to her breast. She shivers at the contact, her fingers clenching briefly in the mess she is making of his pale hair.

And then she is in the warm water, submerged just to her breasts. Varis inspects her arms, feathering his lips over the bruises and fresh scars, before moving over her collarbones. He bows over her, kissing her forehead, her brow, and down the line of her nose.

“Are you satisfied?” she whispers when his lips reach hers.

“Are you?”

She smiles and nips at his lower lip. “No.”

“I was hoping you were not.” His hands move to caress her breasts. “I would have more of you, if you would have me.”

The Warrior squirms and presses her thighs together. “All of you.” She kisses him again. “I would have all of you, my dear emperor.”