Summary: It was mankind who unleashed the plague, so it was on mankind to end it. A story in which an Imperial stumbles upon a terrible discovery, long forgotten by history, and the Astrals aren't quite as benevolent as they seem. Features several original characters, backstory for the Empire, exploration of Ardyn's history, science (or something of the sort), politics and devious plans, and a pet coeurl. Eventually. Set pre/post-game.
A/N: I'm a sucker for OC/AU stories and I love to see just how far I can stretch canon. To me, the story of FFXV is alright at best. There's a solid basis to build off of and enough to work with, but there's so many unexplored facets... like the entire empire that you're fighting. And the entire parasitic virus which turns people into monsters. You learn very little about either, so here's an attempt at expanding both.
Chapter One: Historia
When Ifrit turned on humanity, the rest of the Astrals stood by, indifferent. Gone were the promises of protection from divinity, as divinity refused to become involved in the affairs of humanity. Solheim sought for a way to stop him, and driven to desperation, unleashed a biological weapon to bring down the God. It won them victory—for as much as the Astrals could be defeated—but at a great cost: the virus did not discriminate and they had no cure.
Left in ruin, the survivors vowed vengeance on the absent Gods. Led by the remaining Aldercapt line, this was the original purpose of the Niflheim Empire—but time has a way of warping the truth, and what started as a crusade for justice warped into a conquest for supremacy.
—Lost Records from the History of the Empire.
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The first time Casnia sees Ardyn Izunia, she's six, standing on an elevated platform in the center of the Capital and watching as he's announced Imperial Chancellor by the emperor.
It's a dreary day, overcast and cold, and the winter air bites into her skin in a way that has her wishing she could just go home. She can't, of course, because her parents hold rank and must stand present with the emperor's select entourage, but propriety doesn't stop her from whining in her head all the same.
Her only consolation is that the emperor's sons, the only ones even relatively close to her age, look as frosty as she feels. They stand rigid straight, so motionless and passive that they remind her of the statues which line the streets of the Old City. She catches a slight quiver in Priam's pose as a gust of wind blows by, and to his side, Pallas' lips are slowly but surely tinting blue.
They both hide their discomfort well. She wouldn't have noticed if she wasn't bored out of her mind and staring at them. She's seen the two Aldercapt princes before, has spoken to them—briefly—and truly wonders if they're as miserable as she is.
The city around them is just as cold and unforgiving. Gralea is all sharp edges and sleek steel, all but reflecting the harsh climate they constantly live in.
Everyone is dressed in elaborate, white uniforms, save for the Army Generals, dressed in shades of grey and red, and save for Ardyn, who seems off for a reason Casnia can't quite put her finger on.
He's regal enough to stand beside the emperor, maintaining the proper posture and countenance, and he's charismatic enough for the position bestowed upon him, made evident in the rousing speech and promises he makes after the ceremony.
But he still stands out in the sea of white and grey in a way that leaves Casnia scowling.
He doesn't fit.
It's not a glaring mismatch—not at first. It's subtle, so barely noticeable that you wouldn't know unless you were paying attention. She likens it to the niggling annoyance of hanging two paintings next to each other—you're sure they're even, (you made sure they're even), but the more you look, the more uncertain you become of your assessment.
Casnia doesn't know just what it is about him that bothers her, but it's enough to make her feel uncomfortable. The empire teaches its citizens to know absolute certainty, and doubt is a problem dealt with on an immediate basis.
Even at a young age, she's itching to get to the bottom of it.
But whatever sets Ardyn apart from the rest of the people doesn't seem to bother her parents, and more importantly, it doesn't seem to bother the emperor, so she grudgingly lets it go.
.
The second time she sees Ardyn Izunia, she's fifteen and sitting in one of the large, open Academy lecture halls, surrounded by technology and following in her parents' footsteps. Every student is dressed in identical uniforms—as always—and they sit in alphabetical rows. She sits towards the front, hands folded, back straight, and at attention.
The professor is ecstatic about their guest speaker, practically falling over his feet, and all but singing praises of Ardyn's theories and scientific prowess.
It's enough to raise her eyebrows. What sort of prominent politician was also an accomplished scientist? Who had the time for that? But again, she lets it go, because once Ardyn starts talking she can't help but be swept up in his lecture.
He speaks primarily of the empire's magitek infantry—of their strengths, potential unit design, and plans moving forward. The presentation is elaborate, reflecting the man's knowledge on the subject, and filled with practical applications and questions which leave the class wondering at possibilities.
Casnia knows that Ardyn played a huge role in the empire's military expansion. His contribution is likened to Verstael's initial invention, or to the time the empire achieved complete control over the skies with their indomitable fleet of airships. It's a crowning, historic moment in her country's path to supremacy.
She doesn't appreciate it as much as she probably should, but she jots down bits and pieces of his lecture to read over later.
Science suits her and she does well with it, but it doesn't drive her. Her own aspirations matter little, though, because the Caldus family has a long line of research devoted to the empire and she has no choice but to continue that service. The lack of options bothered her once, but her field of study is interesting enough that she doesn't complain.
(The benefits of rank and familial reputation also keep her quiet. Everything is all but given to her.)
The presentation ends with time allotted for questions, and suddenly she's surrounded by her classmates asking the Chancellor for all sorts of project-related insights. Everything is according to script, from the types of questions asked to the answers he gives—input, output, terrifyingly efficient as was everything around her.
Ardyn's voice is unwavering, commanding respect, but there's this casual lilt in his tone that sets him apart from the rest of her professors. He's entirely at ease, and truly sounds more like a teacher passing knowledge upon them than a soldier instilling facts into them.
He has her entire class enraptured by his presence and for whatever reason, it irritates her to no end.
Again, it's that subtle, insistent feeling that something isn't right. He simply doesn't fit.
She raises her hand, waits patiently, then stands when it's her turn to speak. "Do you believe the empire has become too reliant on its magitek infantry?"
A lull settles over the class. Her question is proper, but there's an undertone of disrespect and insubordination in it. She has just questioned the significance of his contribution to the empire, and in the same vein, the source of all his influence.
He stares at her for a brief moment, face passive, before he eases into an indulgent smile. "The power of the magitek infantry is the key to the empire's success," he says, avoiding a direct answer with all the infuriating grace of a seasoned politician. "They are an invaluable weapon, don't you think?"
She's no politician herself, but the trap is glaring enough. "I think the empire's success comes from its dedication to progress."
"And the empire has progressed significantly since their introduction, with all but one, small part Lucis under its command." He moves about the room at a slow pace, and his stride reminds Casnia far too much of the artificial soldiers they speak of—seemingly natural, but off just enough to send your skin crawling.
"In fact," he continues in an aloof manner, "Progress has been so smooth that I daresay this war with Lucis is nearly over. Another decade, perhaps, and Insomnia will fall."
She chews on the inside of her cheek and quells uncertainty. She picked this fight. She'd see it through. "Maybe so, but numerous other projects have been postponed in favor of expanding this sole weapon. Is it not wiser to maintain an arsenal of diversity to keep an enemy off-balance, should they devise a counter?"
He suddenly stops and his smile turns sharp. "Now, there's a thought. Given the recent trend of things, do you really believe Insomnia has the time or opportunity to devise anything short of, say, a surrender proposal?"
A chuckle ripples through the class at his remark and she barely manages to squash the spark of indignation. She bites her tongue until it bleeds and ducks her head to acknowledge his point, but refuses to concede without getting another word in.
"I am merely concerned for the wellbeing of the empire," she states calmly, revealing none of the irritation she feels. It's a skill she learned growing up in a military state. They are taught from childhood to maintain careful control over their emotions, and in the same manner, to constantly be aware of threats. It's how she knows that if the conversation continues in the same direction, then they would talk around each other until he undoubtedly embarrassed her again.
So she bites the bullet and denies him the opportunity. "The magitek infantry is a powerful weapon. But the empire's dedication towards its own internal progress has stalled since their introduction." She pauses and considers her words carefully, aware of the attention on her. "Insomnia is our current enemy, but they are not our only enemy. We must not become reliant on a single tool, lest we repeat the same mistake that Solheim made."
There's a murmur of whispers behind her back and even her professor raises an eyebrow at the statement.
Little is truly known about the fall of Solheim, short of it being Niflheim's predecessor in global domination and technological superiority. No one knows for certain what caused its downfall, save for the tales surrounding the Great War: Ifrit had something to do with it, daemons came into existence around the same time, and Solheim all but collapsed on itself in the span of some short years.
She ignores the whispers and focuses solely on the Chancellor in front of her, who suddenly seems all too interested in their debate.
"A very bold statement to make, given the lack of evidence on the subject," he mulls, reassessing her. "And what mistake do you believe Solheim made?"
She doesn't hesitate. "What mistake does any dominion make? They grow complacent and are consequently caught off guard. I would not see the same happen to Niflheim."
It's enough to set off another round of whispers, but she sits down before he has another chance to question her. There's a calculating gleam in his eye and she nearly thinks he's going to speak more on the topic, but he turns and starts taking more questions as if nothing had happened.
She clenches her fists until they turn white. There's a sour taste in the back of her mouth, and something tells her it has entirely to do with the man in front of her.
.
But by the time she's twenty, she's working directly under him in their chain of command.
Her position is some outlandish mix between researcher and engineer, and assistant and auxiliary ambassador to Ardyn. The former titles are mostly for her own purpose, but they all come into play in the work she does for him. Her job is previously unheard of, but given Ardyn's trend of breaking the mold—the position of Chancellor didn't even exist until the emperor bestowed it upon him—it only made sense that his assistant's position would also be unusual.
She isn't quite sure how she managed to land it. Absurdity aside, she herself would be the first to admit she doesn't meet the qualifications for the position—doesn't have the experience for it—but Ardyn continually refuses to accept the slew of other agents at his disposal and insists that she is, in fact, perfectly fit for the job.
"You made an impression," he tells her when she finally voices the question. "And you come from a reputable family, riddled with accomplishments. I'm certain that disappointment is not something I'll receive from you."
Idly, she wonders if he has some unspoken, petty vendetta against her, or if he just messes with people for fun. In the same breath he manages to both reassure her and evoke a newfound sense of anxiety.
She's been around him often enough to know when to prod and when to keep her mouth shut, and judging by the offhanded quip, he's in an arguably good mood today.
"I insulted you," she corrects wryly, following behind him with an electronic tablet resting in her arm. "Albeit in a roundabout way. It was not exactly a favorable first impression. The professor berated me after you left."
He waves it off with a flourish of his hand. "It was an impression nonetheless, and what you said was of no consequence. If your comment bothered me in the slightest, then I may as well shed my role and give up on politics altogether."
It's as backhanded of a compliment as any, but it's so in line with Ardyn's double-edged personality that she can't help but sigh. He sends her a sideways, sly smile in response, one which used to unnerve her and on occasion still sent something akin to fear crawling up her skin, but she's long since gotten skilled at suppressing it. It came with the job.
They turn the corner of the hallway and head towards one of the military hangars. Their boots click lightly across the steel floor, and the sound echos dully before fading out.
She taps away at the tablet in her hands. It's tinted blue, made of something not-quite-glass but completely see-through, and light as a feather. Notifications flicker across as she tabs through the different reminders, notes, and various bits of information she has stored on it. A bright red flash at the top left of the screen catches her eye.
"Sir, Verstael has requested a meeting with you."
"Likely to pester me with the same questions he always does," Ardyn hums, and there's an undertone of annoyance. "Do go in my stead, would you?"
To her credit, she doesn't falter. But she does hesitate. She's only been studying technology her entire life, but it's precisely why the head researcher intimidates her—he, too, has devoted his life to a single focus. He would have every opportunity and every excuse to grill her on her knowledge, to ask her questions she may or may not yet have answers to.
He'd do it with glee, too, because he has specifically asked for 'Ardyn, himself' and 'not his damn assistant' in the request file. She finds it slightly funny that he includes the specification, because it hints at how often Ardyn sends her out in his place when he can't be bothered with a task.
If Ardyn refused to do something, then he simply wouldn't do it, and it'd take nothing short of the emperor himself—or his sons—to get any sort of response. The man operated entirely on his own whim, and sometimes, it was infuriating enough to get her teeth grinding.
Verstael is not Iedolas Aldercapt, so Casnia knows what sort of response she'll get should she mention the specific request. She simply doesn't say anything and merely marks down the meeting somewhere in her own schedule.
In some sort of silver lining, serving under the Chancellor has all but prepared her for eccentricity, being put on the spot, and questions out of left field, so she moves beyond her hesitation and nods. "Of course, sir."
"Splendid." The words are accompanied by a light clap of his hands. "Have you ever seen Tenebrae, Miss Caldus?"
"Once. I went as part of a research team." It was a short trip and entirely focused on business, so she doesn't really count it as seeing the woodland country.
He makes a displeased noise, likely coming to the same conclusion. "To the facilities by the border, I presume. Not the best place to see Tenebrae for its beauty."
They've entered the main hangar by this point, so she lowers the tablet and pays attention to where she's going. It's a sprawling chasm of metal and floodlights, and serves as a massive section of their armory. The sheer scale of power at the empire's disposal is awe-inspiring each time she sees it.
Entire squadrons of soldiers surround them, ranging from the mass-produced magitek riflemen to rows of giant, inactive mobile armors. The MA models were always her favorite, solely because everything about them from their design to their functionality simply made sense. They were machines, through-and-through, with none of the irregularities or surprises which sometimes came from the magitek infantry.
The MA's were rarely deployed now, though. MT's made up the bulk of their forces. Projects have been postponed, as she once said.
"You'll enjoy the Fenestala Manor," Ardyn says as they traverse a footbridge over a set of large weaponry. "It's truly an impressive sight, though I imagine the change in weather is what most look forward to. It's certainly my favorite part of leaving Gralea."
"I hear it's humid there this time of year." She scrunches up her nose. "Honestly, it sounds dreadful. I think I prefer the crisp air here, sir."
He chuckles and she nearly misses it over the sudden sound of machinery to their left, but his voice is distinct enough to hear. "Nonsense. You're simply far too used to the cold here. Some sun and heat will do you good."
She brushes strands of hair out of her eyes and squints against the pickup of wind as a nearby airship ascends, then follows Ardyn towards another, slightly smaller airship docked in a nearby zone. A squad of MT's follow in after them and Casnia steps to the side once they board, allowing them to maintain formation. A loud noise warns them as the ramp recedes, and within seconds they're in the sky.
It's a few hours travel to Tenebrae. By a stroke of generosity, Ardyn thankfully leaves her to her own devices for the trip. Perhaps he knows she needs the preparation time, or perhaps he simply has something better to do. Either way, she uses the time given to her to its fullest.
.
A/N: The Kingdom of Lucis will also have a slightly altered history, but that's something that will be revealed throughout the course of the story because the Empire is the main focus here. Solheim came before everything, but it influenced all of the current countries in different ways.
I know that the "MA" imperial machinery probably means "magitek armor", but for this story I'm referring to it as "mobile armor" because it runs off of a different type of energy source. (I swear I'm not introducing Gundams into this. Promise.)
Also, I'm not abandoning Fatespinner! I have a good portion of the next chapter written, so it should be out relatively soon. This game has simply taken over my life and I've been really itching to write for it.
Lemme know your thoughts!
