Chapter Text
Sundrop, Radz-at-Han
To Rhona Sunsong, the Warrior of Light.
From Aymeric de Borel, Lord Speaker to the House of Lords.
She looked at the envelope blankly, her thoughts blown out of her mind like leaves on a strong wind. The Ishgardian delegate who had handed it to her had long since turned back to his comrades from other nations, leaving her to her wool-gathering.
Glancing around the spacious chamber, colourfully decorated as everything in Thavnair was, she slumped into a lone chair against the wall with a sigh. Then she broke the neat wax seal and took out the letter, biting down on her lip when she saw the familiar, elegant script. As if the small sting could possibly dull the much greater pain she felt within. Of course, it didn’t.
Rhona, he wrote.
Despite the dire circumstances befalling our star, I sincerely hope you are well – as well as one can possibly be in such difficult and trying times. Reports and updates from the Scions tell me you are doing everything in your power to avert the Final Days, and full glad am I that the stalwart heroes of Eorzea are still fighting. For all our sakes, I pray you succeed, as you have done many times before. It does much to ease my worries, knowing you are out there, seeking to prevent this imminent disaster.
A polite, honest, entirely sensible introduction. Also a platitude. She rubbed her eyes, continuing to read.
I realize it has been a while since we last spoke, - three months and five days ago, Ala Mhigo, before the formation of the Garlemald expedition, her mind supplied seamlessly – yet I hope it is not too presumptuous of me to say that, regardless of our past attachment, we manage to maintain cordial and civil conduct with each other.
Something inside her twisted at his choice of words. Twisted and squeezed and… bled. She quelled the all too familiar sensation.
Which is why I saw fit to send a personal letter along with the official request for aid. Once again, I must ask for your help in banishing a grave threat endangering my country. This so-called blasphemy must be tracked down and eradicated, lest the Final Days overwhelm Ishgard as they have, much to my deepest regret, brought Thavnair to the brink. The reports I received from Estinien were troubling at the very least and horrifying at the worst.
I fear what might become of our city should this pitiful creature run free, tormenting my people. As a mage of exceptional skill, your assistance in this matter would be invaluable. Needless to say, you shall not have to deal with this task on your own. Lord Artoirel and I will join you for the entire endeavour.
Ah, that was so like him. Ever-ready to throw himself into dangers unknown for Ishgard. She let out a resigned breath, moving on to the next paragraph.
Our – specifically my – personal involvement is the reason why I wished to inform you in a more private manner. I truly hope you will find it in your heart to answer my call, yet again, even with… everything.
Wherever you are right now, please stay safe.
Your obliged and affectionate friend,
Aymeric
Long after she’d reached the bottom of the page, Rhona kept staring at the meticulously written lines. She would remember them word for word – just as she remembered every single thing in her life since she’d turned four years old. Every conversation she’d ever had, every face she’d ever seen. The good experiences and the bad ones, both were branded into her mind. It was a strange, peculiar thing to live with, this flawless memory - it could be a blessing at times or a curse at others. Yet this eccentricity belonged to her just the same.
Carefully she folded the paper, tucking it beneath the lapel of her jacket. His words had read like an apology, making them hit so much harder, little knives to the heart. What did he have to apologize for? Nothing. Not a single thing.
The blame lay with her. Irrevocably, entirely, perpetually with her.
Against her will, a picture of his perfect face flashed before her eyes – crisp, unclouded, stunning.
***
His expression was painfully open, the calm façade he maintained at all times shattered to pieces. Handsome features slack with shock, full lips parted, the bright crystals of his eyes dulled by disbelief.
“Rhona… You don’t mean it. I refuse to believe you,” his voice wavered, oddly toneless, and at the same time, the tremble of emotion in it cut her more effectively than a sharpened blade. She forced herself to look at him, fighting the urge to avert her gaze because she would always remember that tremendous hurt written so plainly upon his face, screaming at her from every elegant line.
This is wrong! Don’t do this, her heart cried out, thrashing against her ribcage.
‘Tis the only way to keep him safe, she mercilessly subdued the manic organ, lashing it down with all the twisted reasons her mind had come up with. Tighter and tighter these self-made chains squeezed, suffocating and silencing until it moved no more, settling into a horrible, cold calm. It was the ugliest thing she had ever felt, like severing a perfectly healthy limb.
“I mean it. This… us. It’s done. Over,” she stated, as she had twice before. She’d brought all of her arguments – the constant separations, the pull on their lives into opposite directions, her journeys taking her further and further away from him, the dangers blown out of proportion. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t. Yet… all to no avail. Aymeric shook his head, his eyes beseeching her so intensely that she feared he would see through the false bravado, the veil of distance she tried so desperately to keep intact.
“I can wait for you. I will always wait for you,” he vowed. Adamant. Selfless. Unimaginably loyal. And so foolish. She took a breath, knowing that her next words would break his priceless trust into splinters.
“No, you cannot. Don’t you understand?! It never ends. Never stops. I’m in this endless cycle until the day I die. Nothing you say or do will change that,” she hissed as she stepped back, her hands slicing the air angrily.
“There is no future for us. There is no us at all, Aymeric.”
Liar! Coward! Hypocrite! The faint voice of her heart cried. Don’t. Don’t say it –
“Because I don’t love you. Not anymore.” The declaration tasted like ashes in her mouth. And yet she managed to say it evenly, with utter conviction. The greatest of all lies. This monumental falsehood. Aymeric went still then, pale and motionless. He looked at her as if she was a stranger. There was a silence that felt longer than a lifetime.
“I… see,” he said, his voice soft, scarcely audible. “I see.” He didn’t seem to realize that he was repeating himself, unaware of what he was saying at all. His gaze was blank, expression deadpan. Rhona wondered if he had temporarily stepped outside of himself in an instinctive act of self-preservation.
A moment later, he blinked, and she saw the way he forcefully shuttered himself, erecting an impenetrable wall between them that was more successful in separating him from her than an actual physical barrier.
“If that’s how it is to be, then so be it. I respect your decision.” His voice betrayed no emotion, nothing of his thoughts. And why would it? They were no longer hers to share. He was no longer hers to love. This man… this man who was good, and giving, and… dear. To the very end.
“So… This is where we part,” she said, swallowing, not recognizing herself within her words. She felt bizarre, unreal, caught in a waking nightmare. “Take… take care, Aymeric.”
As she walked away from him, it took everything in her not to turn back. A broken heart can heal. While his might with time, hers never would. It would always remain with him, shattered and closed as it was. This was the only way. He would stop looking out his window, waiting for her to arrive. He would stop worrying. He would stop following her into danger.
He would live. Live and love again. Marry a beautiful woman fitting to his station. Have children who adored him. Grow old and grey with laugh-lines framing his smile and wrinkles around his brilliant eyes. That was the life he deserved.
And for that, this bridge had to burn.
***
The vivid memory was slow to recede, leaving her breathless with the lingering pain. A pain that was prone to return just as strongly as it had been on that fateful day when she had brutally wrecked the trust of a caring man. The terrifying clash with Ascian-controlled Zenos at the Ghimlyt Dark had been the last straw. She had faltered, tormented and stunned by the Call. Disregarding his own safety and the promise he had made to her, Aymeric had rushed to her defense, very nearly getting himself killed. If Estinien hadn’t intervened, they would have died there together.
She’d sworn to herself never to let it come so close ever again. For as long as he felt the need to protect her, any promise she extorted from him meant nothing when worst came to worst. And so, she took the burden of deciding both their fates for herself. The deal was struck - her heart and soul in exchange for his life. It was more than fair.
On the rare occasions when they had met since then, he had treated her with consummate courtesy while always keeping a cool distance between them. Stiff smiles, not reaching his eyes. He’d become more remote, unapproachable, out of her reach. Precisely as she had meant it to be. It was hard to tell who she was angrier at: him, for acting as she had predicted he would, or herself for being the orchestrator of this ugly travesty.
Rhona rose from the chair, absently smoothing her clothes and wiping a drop of annoying moisture from the corner of her eye.
Of course she would answer his call. No matter how uncomfortable it may be to be near him for any amount of time. When he asked for her, she always answered. The pain it caused her mattered not. She could never speak her true feelings aloud, had barred herself from loving him openly. But she could still fight for him. For all the hurt she alone caused him… she would do anything to make reparations. As long as they kept him safe.
It was too little. It was more than nothing.
Rhona shouldered her travel pack, bid the Ishgardian delegate farewell, and made her way towards the Aetheryte. While walking, she placed her linkpearl in her ear, sending out a call. The little device beeped for a long time before a deep, familiar voice answered at the other end.
“Thought we made a rule about calls. Urgent matters only,” Estinien said grumpily, although he didn’t sound entirely serious.
Rhona gave a sigh, coming to a halt in front of the impressive crystal at the centre of the vibrant hall. People hurried across the colourful mosaic floors, Radiant Host guards patrolled the spacious corridors. Worry and fear was in every face she saw, well-concealed on some, shown openly on others. They held fast yet against the tide of despair threatening to overcome the star – this last bastion of hope protected by Hydaelyn.
Hydaelyn. Venat. The ancients. Their struggle against the inevitable. The fall of their paradise. On Elpis, she’d finally learned the whole truth of the past. Those experiences still clung to her, haunting her waking hours and nightmares in equal measure. She had told the other Scions most of what had happened, and as always, they’d been supportive, kind, uplifting.
But how could they understand? How could she explain to them what it had felt like to recognize kindred spirits in Hythlodaeus and Emet-Selch, to feel her sundered ancient’s soul resonate with theirs? They had been close to her heart, or perhaps Azem’s heart – she couldn’t say. In her own strange way, she had loved them — them and Venat. Now they were gone. Sacrificed to save the star. Lost within a singular purpose and millennia of fighting for a cause without knowing the full truth of it.
Only Hydaelyn remained, keeping her solitary vigil.
Was it worth all the hardships, the scars, the loneliness? The path which lay behind her, paved with love and loss and regret. She had walked it for so long, it was all she knew. Like a ship out on the high seas, its home port long forgotten. Travelling further and further from the point where she had started. She couldn’t see past this last journey, couldn’t imagine herself returning from the far edge of the horizon, the end of all things.
“The fate of the star rests in your hands,” Venat had reminded her on several occasions.
“But I’m not like you!” she’d wanted to shout. “I’m not as strong, or fearless, or unflinching as you are! I’m scared. All the time. Scared of loss, scared of death, scared of never finding my way home again. Not alone but all too lonely.”
But she hadn’t said any of that. She had nodded gravely, resigning herself to carrying this weight. Again.
It was bad enough she was dragging the other Scions with her into this greatest of adversities. After everything they had been through together, their fates were now bound inextricably to hers, for better or for worse… Exactly for this reason, she had cut off all ties to Aymeric before it was too late. Before he got pulled inescapably into the endless chaos and violence– the disaster that was her life.
“Rhona?” Estinien’s irritable voice jolted her back into the present.
“Sorry, I was… thinking. Urgent. Yes, well…” she replied, hesitant. “This might qualify as urgent… I’m going to be out of touch for a while.”
“That so?” he mused, almost speculatively. “Tying up some loose ends while you still have time?”
“No…” she sighed. “It’s… a request for aid… A blasphemy appeared in Ishgard, and I was asked to help resolve the situation.”
There was a short, laden silence.
Then: “Break a leg.”
“That’s it? You won’t ask to join me?” she couldn’t help blurting the question. Estinien gave a bark-like laugh.
“Perish the thought – nay, I won’t. Surely you can handle it. I’m being kept quite busy here. Besides… Nobody in their right mind would volunteer for the tremendous awkwardness between you and Aymeric.”
“You, ser, are an ass,” Rhona stated coolly, to which he scoffed.
“Perhaps. But I’m not the one in denial,” he retorted rather sharply, making her flinch. When she stayed quiet for a minute, he sighed, his voice much gentler than before, strangely comforting.
“’Tis the end of the world, Rhona. What are you doing?”
If she only knew.
The call ended shortly after, and Rhona stepped up to the Aetheryte. When her hand touched the crystalline surface, her soul soared ahead on mere instinct, into the swirling current, towards the only place she had ever called home.
Towards the only man she had ever loved, and whose heart she had mercilessly broken.