Chapter Text
Estinien was the first to see her body appear on the deck of the Ragnarok.
Immediately he noticed her dark, purple-tinged armor had been battered, punctured, sliced, and dented. Blood poured from her nostrils and mouth where he could see she had been struck solidly in the face by a gauntleted fist – perpendicular cuts sliced below her left eye and cheek and burn marks appeared on her right.
The very tip of her right ear was missing entirely and thick, dark blood caked at the wound and into the soft black hair of her head.
He was frozen in his stance, staring at her limp body in disbelief.
A pool of blood had already started to form from under her. An enormous gash at the weak spot of her armor at her abdomen was partially hidden by her cuirass and he swallowed at the fear that she had been on the verge of being disemboweled.
No. No, no, no, no! His mind raced. Not now, not after all this!
“Cor?!” he shouted, broken-voiced. The Scions all turned to look where Estinien directed his yell. “Corvwen!” he screamed again in terror.
“Twelve have mercy…” hushed Urianger. “Bring her here! Alphinaud! G’Raha! We must tend to her wounds!”
Suddenly Estinien broke forward as if his frame had a will of its own, his momentum shifted and he flew to her, bending down and gently lifting her petite Miqo'te form, turning to the others who were already clearing a space on the deck for her.
Thancred made way to the emergency locker. “Livingway, return to Etheirys! Now! We need to get her to chirugeons immediately!” Thancred barked as he turned with a stretcher in hand.
“Yes sir!” squeaked the small Loporrit commander and she ran off to the bridge.
As if the entire group of Scions had rehearsed their maneuvers, Thancred and Alisaie set the stretcher on the floor, Urianger, G’Raha and Alphinaud directed Estinien to lay her on the cot, and once he set her body down, they immediately started their healing magics – Aphinaud concentrating on the enormous belly wound, G’Raha to her appendages, head, and facial wounds, and Urianger to the less obvious, internal wounds.
“Open your eyes, please!” G’Raha pleaded.
“Someone hand me more bandages from the locker!” cried Y’Shtola. She leaned forward with a large wrap and began placing pressure on the wound located at Corvwen’s right elbow, probably made with the same swipe of the blade that created the massive wound across her belly. She looked up to Estinien with wide, terrified eyes. “Help,” she said calmly yet urgently, “Help get her armor off!”
Estinien nodded and knelt across from her and in a mix of blind shock and military training, he set about removing her gauntlets, then unbuckling her pauldrons, vambraces and cuirasses, each piece revealing some new contusion or laceration on her unresponsive frame. “Corvwen!” he cried out sharply. He reached his hand out to her throat and could not locate a beat. His eyes wide in denial, he shook his head at Urianger. “No pulse.”
His own heart was pounding so loudly he began to lose the sounds around him. He continued to pull at her armor, piece by piece, allowing the three men beside him better access for the veritable flood of magics they pulsed into the paling form beneath them.
Thancred scowled as he began handing Y’Shtola clean bandages one after the other. He took in the type of wounds and their severity and coldly stated his report. “Scythe.”
Estinien nodded in stifled rage. “Zenos.”
“Zenos?” G’Raha whispered. “What in the seven hells is he doing here?” His ears perked in full alert, wary that the psychopathic Garlean could appear on deck at any moment, yet still trying to concentrate on sending magic at the tear across his dear friend’s ear.
“His body rests upon the endless horizon” a small voice cracked from above. Estinien looked up to see the bright blue bird-like form, now slowly dissipating into a faint starburst of aether.
“Meteion?” Alisaie cried. “Is Zenos dead?”
“He breathes not.”
“Can you do anything?!”
Meteion shook her head softly. “I am sorry, I cannot. My final report has been given.” The child-like form hovering above them looked down over Corvwen, a slight smile reflected. “Her heart beats but slowly, cling to the hope you all brought to her, and me.” Meteion connected her bright blue eyes, now fading from sight to those of Estinien. “She loves. She loves you.”
Estinien buckled. “I… I…” he stammered.
“There is yet so much hope.” Meteion said softly. “So much hope.”
“Meteion!” yelled Alphinaud as she faded away entirely in a drift of nothingness and blue-tinged haze. “Please!”
Estinien’s eyes burned in a mix of terror and fury. “Corvwen!” He pulled at the final dented cuisse at her leg, once again revealing heavily bruised and bloody appendage and he knew immediately that one of her bones was broken at her shin. A blow of unfathomable power, likely with the blunt corner of the scythe. His stomach lurched with ferocity and fury.
“Set it.” G’Raha ordered, “and I will mend it.”
Without hesitation, Estinien moved his hands to the mildly displaced bone, feeling for the direction he would need to press. He had done this for countless other soldiers over his life, but why was it was so different when it was her?
“Estinien.” G’Raha’s voice was stern and urgent in a tone others called Crystal Exarch Mode. “Concentrate.”
He swallowed hard and in one move of strength and determination he moved the bone into place, oddly grateful she was unconscious. But she was more than unconscious, he could see her slipping away.
“Cor…” he whispered. “Don’t leave us. Don’t leave…”
*
His mind raced to mere moments before, when he was incorporeal, his soul forming the very winds of Ultima Thule, allowing his comrades the ability to move onward. Corvwen had been the sole survivor of the march towards the Meteia’s nest, and he could feel the thoughts of the woman he loved with every mote of himself.
By the time she reached the final platform, after she bid farewell to the two children in her charge; two children who had also sacrificed themselves just to build a bridge to the final promontory of Ultima Thule - she was alone. And there was yet one more bridge that needed to be built, and no one left to sacrifice themselves to get her to the nest.
Despite the numerous supportive and loving voices she had recalled as she walked to the final headland, when she finally reached it and turned around to look upon the glittering and whirling paths literally created by the lives sacrificed for her, her heart and mind began to fall through the grates of her psyche. She slipped into into unrelenting defeat, and when she locked eyes with the monotone-hued Meteion, her mind began to shatter.
He panicked, knowing full well she was losing her internal battle. He soared towards her, desperate to remind her of all of the good in the universe – of all of the good she had helped him find, of all the love of which he was now capable.
But he didn’t count on the potent waves of dynamis ripping through him. He fought back with annoyance – until he was slammed by a string of memories emitted from Corvwen’s own mind:
A beautiful young Miqo'te woman in a pale green dress and tights, stretching her graceful leg upon a ballet barre.
Longing.
Another memory of the same raven-haired young woman dancing a waltz with a silver haired Miqo’te man in a formal suit. She was dressed in a simple ball gown of faintest blue.
Regret.
Her petite hand holding the hilt of a dagger plunged deep into the chest of a Garlean man in a torn shirt. His eyes were wide in surprise and fear as his hands loosened their grip from around her throat, bright red blood poured down her wrist and arm.
Murderous rage and vengeance.
The bloody face of Ser Haurchefant at the platform of the Vault.
Sorrow.
The face of a black and white haired Garlean surrounded by the ruins of what appeared to be a massive city, with an enormous aetherically-charged hole in his midsection, looking at her with an expression of unrelenting sadness, love, and... adoration?
Heartrending, mind-bending loss.
And the freshest memory yet, her vision of him. He watched as she relived the moment black tendrils of smoke whizzed around her vision of his stoic expression and loving smile as he tendered his life for her so she could finish the job.
And he was struck by a powerful sense of anguish, grief, despair, and unfathomable loneliness.
He heard her mental voice cry out in anguish. I loved you. I loved you both. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.
A wave of joy emitted from the wind he created for her. She loves me! She loves us!
He soared towards her, trying desperately to reach her mind and let her know she wasn’t alone, trying to push her negative emotions out and open the door for the hope he knew she carried buried under the fear and loneliness exuding from her heart. He whirled around her, lifting her hair and caressing her face, her lips, her ears. He brought forward his own thoughts of their time alone camping in the Hinterlands. Of a night spent quietly in Aymeric’s office while he finished up work and they played a game of rummy by the fire. A laugh-filled evening at The Forgotten Knight as they traded tales of adventure and political idiocy. And finally, his own private memory of a serious confession-filled night in bed with Aymeric as they discussed the shared feelings for her, that they had a missing piece to their relationship and their laughter and relief they both traded the revelations that only solidified their already passionate love.
He didn’t care if he would come back or not, but he was thrilled that Aymeric might not have to be alone should he move on to aetheric sea. He swirled around her again. We love you. We love you. Please don’t give up. He will need you. He will be there for you.
She inhaled and her eyes brightened, buoyed by the unrelenting love she was receiving from the brisk wind that cooled her and dried her forming tears.
A fraction of a second later her mind cleared with a thought of the bitter and biting winds of Ishgard and a desire for herself overtook her deflating heart.
“No. No.” Corvwen growled quietly. “No. She doesn't get to win this. He’s going to come back one way or another. They all will." She glared with deep-seated resolve at the familiar who was feeding off her despair. "You don’t get to take my future.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the bright orange crystal and drew it to her chest.
*
His one duty completed, Estinien stood from her brutalized body and backed away, allowing the healers to do their work while he watched in dread. Now it’s your turn. It’s your turn to come back to me.
Seconds turned to interminable minutes. He stood stolidly, never moving, only looking down at the blood-covered face of the woman who had slowly, relentlessly, achingly, stolen his and Aymeric’s hearts.
Alisiae’s cries grew louder. G’Raha’s hands began to shake as his aether and magics began to whither, his power all but leaving him. Urianger’s eyes closed tightly as he concentrated, his magical orb spinning unabated, but Estinien could tell he too was running out of energy.
Tears streamed down Alphinaud’s face, forcing Estinien to catch his own mounting sorrow in his throat.
He connected eyes with Thancred, who returned his gaze, an expression of defeat crossing over the archon’s visage. Estinien’s jaw clenched, and he shook his head defiantly at Thancred, refusing to accept that she may not survive.
He peered down again at her petite and helpless form, the wounds had been closed, but were extremely thin and raw. G’Raha began to fall backwards, all but spent. Estinien rushed to his side. “Take my aether if it will help” he said calmly, but urgently, “Please I… we… cannot lose her.”
G’Raha’s eyes widened softly but nodded in agreement, his hand touching Estinien’s shoulder and he began to siphon energy from the dragoon and redirect it towards the frail woman on the cot before them.
“You can’t leave us!” Alisaie cried from the depths of her gut. “Not like this! If you do, I’ll never forgive you, so come on! Open your eyes and get up!” Her hands shook the cot in rage.
Corvwen’s eyes opened ever-so-briefly. Her chest rose with a deliberate breath. Alisaie inhaled a breath of shock.
Alphinaud’s voice cracked, “Are… are you with us?”
Corvwen’s amethyst-encircled irises shown like beacons from behind the blood-soaked hair pasted to her forehead. She smiled weakly at him.
Alphinaud’s cry of relief fell from his lips in a pained and exhausted croak. “Ah, thank the heaven’s… for a moment we thought...”
G’Raha’s hand on Estinien’s shoulder grasped even more tightly as he sent one more potent wave of healing aether into her body. Estinien not caring how fatigued it was making him. He would have easily tendered his all for her, and he smirked to himself knowing he had already done so once today.
Her breaths became more regular, and her eyes fluttered open again. Estinien stood and looked down upon her as he tried to steady himself from the emotions and fear and the new waves of relief and joy at seeing her beautiful eyes once again.
“Is everyone all right?” Corvwen whispered hoarsely.
Estinien took the statement as a punch to his gut. She’s still worried about us? Halone help me, I love her so much but I’m going to lock her away.
“After what you’ve done… you’re the last person… to be asking that.” G’Raha huffed in exhausted frustration and tears. “You! Pffft... how can you keep your promise if you’re not here?” he pleaded.
Estinien stepped forward, still in shock, but relieved and he looked down upon her with a bitter smile. “Another fine show you’ve put on…” he tripped over his words, “My friend.”
Really Really? My friend? Surely you can do better. You know she loves you. You felt it in your very soul.
But old habits die hard and keeping his emotions about her in check over the last year was so ingrained, he couldn’t bring himself to break down in front of them. His heart continued to thump hard in his chest, no longer with fear, but a flood of joy and relief, and love.
Y’Shtola and Thancred stepped in to complete the chastisement and soon after, Alphinaud had goaded her to stand.
Despite Estinien’s protestation, she grabbed Alphinaud’s hand, and he lifted her to her feet, her blood-soaked under garments still sticking to her skin.
Estinien moved in without hesitation, taking her arm from Alphinaud’s as the windows were opened to let her see the clear blue skies of Etheirys.
The Final Days had been averted.
The smile that crossed her face was weaker than one might have expected. It was a soft smile built of relief and exhaustion and, as Estinien recognized well, of disbelief. He cast his eyes around to the rest of the people on the deck. All of them bore the same smile.
Ultima Thule had turned them all inside out.
There would be no easy recovery from this venture. No parties, no celebrations. Everyone could see in each other’s eyes that they all needed time to come to terms with what they had all experienced – Corvwen most of all.
He reached his arm to encircle her shoulders and he was quietly surprised when she leaned hard into him, resting her head on his armor. Without her boots on, she was so much shorter than he, and it was the first time he understood how fragile she was at the moment. She began to lose the strength to stand.
She whispered softly to him. “Estinien…?”
He reached out with his other arm, turned, and lowered himself to look her in the eyes. Nothing else mattered any more. The only thing that mattered was her. Screw the Scions, if they didn’t approve, who cared? I died for this chance.
“Yes, love?” he said gently.
A tear started to well up in her eye and her hands grasped his more tightly. “Take me home. Take me home. I want to go home. Get me out of here. I’m so tired. I’m so done.”
His heart leapt from her words, “Of course. Aymeric and I will be there while you heal.”
The tear fell from her eye like a jewel. “We… where we can heal.”
He lowered his head with a bit of shame but looked her in the eyes once again. “Yes. Where we can heal.”
He gently lifted her chin and the two kissed softly.
The others smiled, traded happy glances, and then turned their eyes from them.
“It’s about time,” Thancred snarked.
Estinien and Corvwen didn’t hear him. He lifted her as if she was as light as a feather, laying her back down on the cot. He watched her as her eyes shut almost immediately.
Urianger moved in and checked her but gave Estinien a supportive nod, affirming she was still breathing. “She’s exhausted. She has lost much blood. I'm afraid it will take much time for her to recover fully.”
Alphinaud moved in as well. “Estinien…” the concern apparent in his voice.
“I’ll take care of her Alphinaud, but I will need you to run interference.”
Alphinaud and Alisaie both stood upright, “Consider it done,” they said in unison.
Thancred removed his coat and handed it to Estinien. “Here, we’ll send the armor along, but this should cover her…” he cleared his throat, “and the sight of the blood until you can make it to the aetheryte.”
Estinien took the coat and gave Thancred a grateful nod. “Thank you. Thank you all.”