Adura Invalesca
She splashes the water into her face, wiping away the makeup, scrubbing at her lips. Wincing at the strike of hot water against the cut on her forehead. It all swirls in the white marble sink: muddy orange and pink, an ugly backwash smooths into the drain.
Adura shuts off the water and breathes heavily, water dripping off her face and hair sticking to her sweaty neck. She stares at the drain in a slight horror, as if expecting the memories of last night...early this morning...all of it, to go down with the mask she put on for these people.
"You guys got your own kind of drama, huh?" she whispers, to the whole country.
It's too late for Noctis to say, "please, please let's not acknowledge the elephant in the room about the demons suddenly breaking into the palace and that everybody has a cell phone that can record literally everything" so footage replaying the wreckage is all over the news. Every eye in the country has seen it and it infuriates Noctis: she saw it twist him from the inside as he glared at the screen. That's one thing that really rubs Adura the wrong way; he was actually hoping to stem freedom of the press.
Adura stands straight and looks at herself in the mirror, notices the dark sleepless lines under her eyes, the cut bleeding anew, the chapped redness of her lips.
Dads would do a lot of stuff for their kids. That's the thing.
She sighs and throws the towel down on the counter.
But the real thing is that no one outside the palace actually knows Prince Sol is missing. All they know is that the palace is wrecked because monsters came to life from the inside, the Kingsglaive are out crawling the city and armed guards out in force at the borders. The people think the royal Glaive are hunting for demons and though that is true to a degree, they're really hunting for Sol. For a kid barely out of his teens who messed it all up last night.
What an epic failure.
Adura shrugs out of the dress, filling out her ribcage as soon as she unzips the gown in the back and it stops acting like a straitjacket. She has a sudden desire to wear all black, just a simple black t-shirt with –
She stops. Tosses around her suitcase and groans. She should wear a skirt, she is still in Insomnia and in the king's palace. There is still a degree of formality to keep up.
Just not as much. So she puts on a long white skirt (not knowing where it came from), checks how it looks in the long mirror in her room. She raises an eyebrow, it's actually kind of comfortable, loose around her hips. And in a way - Adura comes closer to the mirror now - it's...pretty.
There's a simplicity, a feeling that isn't fake at all that says that she looks real, alive. Standing there with her long dark hair down and sans her boots or her heels, just bare feet. No jewelry around her neck, no earrings, not even her own numerous piercings she prefers. The blood is coagulating, sharp red against the gold of her skin. There's someone different there in the mirror.
It's not Adura the revolutionary or Adura the bride-to-be. It's just her. Like looking at a stranger and yet knowing exactly who's there in front of you.
She reaches out and touches her reflection and then shakes her head: "Did I wait this long to become me? When...when Sol showed up as himself last night?"
That raging smoke, the clouds setting in. Noctis panicking and Sol was...scared. Choice word, scared and what of? His dad figuring out who he really was? And Adura stood there like an idiot with her arms still held out to him as if he was her own, as if that treaty had anything to say to her, as if she believed it!
Adura starts when there's a soft knock at the door. She growls softly to herself and then straightens, hopes it's just some guard or maybe even her father. She needs to rant, she needs to get all this off her chest.
"Come in," she says, with more of a whine in her voice than she meant.
The door opens, creaking a little and Adura's wince vanishes. Queen Lunafreya's hair is also let down, her tired eyes showing nothing but kindness. She herself is dressed in loose clothing, a light dress of pale blue like a robe. Her hands rest against the door and she asks gently, "Do you mind if we speak together, Adura? We have never had the chance...since..."
"Oh," Adura mutters, fidgeting and then backing up and curtsying quickly. "Your Majesty, I'm sorry, I didn't-"
"Please don't be," Lunafreya says, smiling a little and taking her hand. "It's my honor to meet a true believer in freedom and unity, a friend of Lucis. You behaved very bravely, very nobly last night, Adura."
Brave and noble, huh? She was just thinking a whole lot of crap about her son.
"You're bleeding," Lunafreya murmurs, her fingers touching the graze just slightly. "Let me help you."
"Oh, no, Your Majesty, you don't have to," Adura stutters. "I'm alright really."
"Come sit," Lunafreya says, still holding her hand and leading her back into the bathroom to the chair before the mirror. Adura shakes her head, can't believe the queen of Lucis is doing this. This careful movement of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. The slow movements of pressing a damp cloth to her forehead, finding a small container of a sweet smelling salve and smearing it across the cut. Adura grimaces as Lunafreya's hands touch her face. The queen of Lucis and the daughter of Niflheim. It doesn't fit, it doesn't work.
Lunafreya's beautiful face is contorted by a frown of concern, fear maybe. The light blue of her eyes are clouded by racing thoughts. Adura looks up into them.
Sol's eyes were like that. You could see the mind within working, slaving even.
"He...he looks like you." She dares to murmur it.
Lunafreya's fingers stop and she exhales. Adura can see a small tremble in her lower lip. "Sol –" and she sighs. Starts over, "What happened last night...we never imagined would happen."
"You had no idea?"
"None." Lunafreya turns to the sink to wash the salve off her fingers, shaking her head. "When Noctis and I decided to have a child, we knew that he or she would would be granted Lucian power as well as my own gifts. And quite possibly, the child could be more powerful than either of us. Sol had never spoken to us of experimenting with those powers, but all we knew was that he could command them. If he wished to."
She shakes the water off her hands, takes the towel but stares off into space, grief flowing into her eyes. "But we had no reason to believe that he was fighting an inner war. The two of you were dancing...Noctis and I were as well. And we sensed a darkness in that moment but it kept coming in and out, as if it was being quelled and then rising back again. And Noctis turned and saw Sol and...Sol saw him..."
"He couldn't help it."
"He was so afraid!" Lunafreya breathes, clutching the towel, her voice quivering. "I've never seen Sol so frightened."
There's a silence for a moment until Queen Lunafreya begins to fold the towel, placing it neatly to the side. "My dear Adura," she says slowly. "I myself have never been so frightened. In all my years, even during the Starscourge. I have never been so frightened."
Adura gets up, turns her back on the queen, never mind protocol and politeness. It just can't matter now. She folds her arms over her chest and feels like kicking the bedpost facing her.
"Why?" Adura asks, reaching out to grip the dark wood, steadying herself. "Why are you frightened, Queen Lunafreya? Because your son has completely forsaken you and your husband for Darkness and its power? Or that you never knew he was really a monster?"
There isn't an answer for a few deathly seconds and when Adura turns back, she sees Lunafreya leaning against the counter. Her hand clenches the cold marble, her arm is pressed against her stomach as if she feels sick. Even in the dim light, reflected in the mirror, Adura can see a tear fall from her eye.
"What frightens me is that he felt he could not tell me," she whispers.
Adura swallows against the rock in her throat. She doesn't know why she feels like crying as well – all she knows about Sol is that he is (maybe was) a prince of Lucis who summoned a demonic power last night and is now missing. Maybe for good.
But the world is mourning, she feels it and here before her, his mother cries softly.
Adura looks down at the ground. Dads do everything to protect their children and even monsters have mothers.
"Oh," Lunafreya suddenly gasps, pressing her fingers to her face to clear it of tears, standing straight and then forcing a smile to her face. She turns it to her. "Forgive me. You did not have the chance to know him as I do."
It's like she read her mind.
"Please come with me," she says, offering an arm to her and when Adura hesitantly takes it (does one simply take the arm of a queen?), she leads her out of the room.
Lunafreya rests a hand against hers, her shoes clacking on the floor as she leads Adura down a few hallways. Adura can see people gathering outside the palace, white Glaive police lights reflecting with the sun and shooting through the glass windows. She has to look away. She can't stand seeing all those people who automatically suspect Niflheim is the cause.
And it hits her. Oh, Niflheim is ruined once more by the angry eyes and hateful words. Her country carried memories and it all came back real as ever last night. Now their name will always hold terror and be a harbinger of demonic destruction, hated by the world for yet another age. Of course that prince had to lose it on the night they were there –
"Here," Lunafreya says, stopping in front of a door, the only one in this hallway except for the great beautifully decorated ones at the dead end. Adura studies it, its glorious swirls and statues of great kings on each side. It has to be the king and queen's bedroom.
But Lunafreya is turning the knob of this one and it jingles. Adura tilts her head, finds that there's a light green tassel that's been tied to it, with tiny bells and charms of different kinds. A little ball of colorful fake fur, white ribbons, plastic models of keys and swords. It almost touches the ground.
"He made that when he was ten," Lunafreya says, a quiet laugh coming to her sad voice. "He said that he wanted us to hear him if he got up. He's never taken it off."
She ought not stare so much.
But the room is like entering into a different world and she can't help it. A single bed with navy blue coverlets, shining silk,. A few bookcases of dark mahogany, comic books spread over their tops, a record player with stickers on its side. Adura walks slowly over the carpeted floor, notices the brown lace-up boots in the corner, small frames on the wall, pictures of Sol and his family. She recognizes one face from last night. Noctis called him Gladio. Gladio was his name and in one he has his fiercely tattooed arm thrown carelessly over Sol's shoulder. Laughter, love. Light.
There's a sword leaning against one of the bookcases, tall and slender and beautiful. Like Sol.
There are twinkling lights hanging over the bed canopy like tiny stars. The desk facing the half-open windows is covered in books and homework, a closed laptop (with even more stickers), a cold cup of tea. There's a tiny note tucked into the ones of the open pages of his books. You've got this! -Uncle Prompto. Little marker smiles all over.
Everything is navy and white and gold, everything is alive and pulsing with the absence of the owner of all these little things. A twenty-year-old prince lived here and slept in this bed with the lights sparkling above him, there's one bookcase shelf with a chocobo plushie that is faded and squeezed to death. Here he worked on his school –
"And he didn't want to go to college?" Adura suddenly asks, curiosity striking her.
"He preferred not to go to college, at least not yet," Lunafreya smiles. "He said he was too busy. Though his studies are advancing with the assistance of a private tutor, he made that decision himself. He wanted to strengthen his skills."
"Skills?"
Lunafreya nods and beckons with a finger toward a door that is opposite the bed, equally intricately decorated. She opens it and turns on the light switch on the other side, glancing back at her from over her shoulder. "Come."
Adura enters the room, stops and catches her breath.
Canvas. Canvas everywhere, hanging on the walls, resting on easels, stacked up blank against the wall. Covered in color, splashes seemingly thrown about at random, pieces of mixed media glued and molded to the surface. Paint is stained to the ground, paintbrushes are sticking upright. A few cups of murky water stand still in the silence. A stereo sits in the center of the room, the buttons touched by colorful fingers, red and white.
Adura smiles when she sees two cups, both holding liquid of two different colors. Written in permanent marker on one: Paint water! The other, Not paint water!
She walks towards a canvas sitting against an easel and can see the pencil outlines of a face, familiar etchings. Adura can tell just by the edges sketched in that it was going to be a painting of King Noctis. Sol didn't get to finish it.
"This one is my favorite," Lunafreya says, and Adura straightens to look at one hanging on the wall. Lunafreya stares at it in a mother's pride, but a sincere quiet awe.
The face in the huge canvas is shown at an angle, a man standing strong and lifelike, almost photographic. His jaw is strong, the hair braided in the back rests against his broad shoulders. His eyes are grey, expression soft and thoughtful, a little black mark appearing just below the left eye. He is dressed in the stately Kingsglaive uniform, the silver insignia on his shoulder, a cape falling over his shoulder. A blade at his side. A ring on his hand.
"This is Nyx Ulric," Lunafreya explains, noticing Adura's intent focus on the painting. "He fought General Glauca of the Fallen Empire until the last moments of his life. He and his friend saved me, helped me across the border of Insomnia to get the ring of the Lucii to Noctis. When I told Sol of his story, it touched him deeply. I believe...he idolizes him."
"I've heard of him," Adura says softly. "He was a brave man."
"A noble one," Lunafreya replies. "Sol captured that so well. I believe he often thinks about Nyx Ulric. He told me once that he wanted to be like him."
"Really?" Adura whispers and Lunafreya nods sharply as if she was trying to make her see, make her understand. She turns away from the painting, walks out of the studio quickly and back into the bedroom. Adura follows, watching her bow her head, stop next to the bedpost. Lunafreya sniffles, wipes a tear from her eye.
"I know it is difficult for you to see someone other than the...monster you saw last night," she whispers. "He summoned an evil power, he brought back horrible memories for you and your people. You should know that you are released from the marriage contract should you choose to be. For I do not know where this shall end or how. I pray that it won't be in the death of my son."
She turns around and holds out her arms as if to clasp the whole room to her. A bittersweet, heartbroken smile spreads across her face.
"I know you did not know him," she weeps freely, "but tell me; do you sense a Darkness here? Here in this grace, this haven of joy and love?"
"Your Majesty..." Adura croaks, but cannot go on. The room is warm and those lights are glittering and the open window lets in a breeze that turns a few pages of Sol's books. But there's nothing to be said.
The room speaks a sweet poetry, but there are volumes unspoken. But Adura shakes her head. No.
Sol Lucis Caelum was an excellent liar.
"We're leaving," her father says. Oculus's tired eyes look out at the darkened city, the windows streaked with rain. "We are no longer welcome here."
Adura looks up at him from her intense gaze into space, her arm propped against a couch pillow. She stretches her legs out onto the shimmering coffee table and sighs. "Were we ever?"
Oculus doesn't answer, but he turns from the window. She feels his cold hand rest on her shoulder. "We came with best intentions. If people accuse us otherwise, we have no choice and no rights. We represent Niflheim of all places."
"We represent a different Niflheim," Adura snaps, frowning. "They have no right to judge us-"
"Yes, they do," Oculus says, sitting down next to her, leaning forward to attract her gaze. "We cannot prove anything and we have only our history to speak for us. We cannot prove our innocence."
Adura is silent. The thunder rolls on, Glaive sirens shriek through the storm. The air conditioner blows a soft breeze in Adura's direction, she blinks a few times. She looks up at the huge grandfather clock in the terrace-green suite and squints to read the time.
One thirty.
Her hands start sweating and she takes a deep breath. Before they parted ways, Queen Lunafreya said that King Noctis would have a meeting with his council at about one o'clock. She can imagine even now, that wretch Gladio probably tearing Niflheim to shreds, accusing Oculus of distracting the king, snarling that Adura herself probably seduced the prince to darkness. And these people, so insistent on the prince's innocence and pure goodness, will probably agree.
And if Lunafreya showed her anything today, Noctis will definitely agree.
Her people, forever shamed by the past, will be forever shamed in the future.
Adura grips the pillow and bites her lip. Any second now, she will do something irrevocable. Something she can never bite back again, something that will change everything and everyone.
It looms in her mind like the storm Insomnia is soaking in, like the storm Sol brought on, the storm he was.
She gets up. She walks out of the room, ignoring her father's call. She runs back to her bedroom and wraps her hair up into a loose bun. Stares at herself in the mirror and steels her face.
Sol came as himself. And so will she.
Adura races through the halls, ignores the questioning glances of the guards, the scoff of the servants ("that wretched Niff"). Her skirts gather around her ankles, she hitches the hem up to keep from tripping down the stairs. The elevator is much too slow coming down (cut the cords and we'll go down) and when she faces the wide doors of the council room, she knows that this is where the fight begins.
The hands are rough as they clasp around her arms, two guards struggle to stop her, "Lady Adura, you are ordered to-" but she shoves against the doors using all three of them together. The loud creaking echoes in the massive room, the council members turn in shock. King Noctis Lucis Caelum stands and fires a burning glare at her. Adura stares back.
"Your Majesty, I beg an audience!" she cries, snatching herself away.
Everyone turns back to Noctis, his cold eyes shooting through her as if she was a ghost. He blinks once and nods shortly. "Speak."
Adura catches her breath. "I mourn the loss of your son. I know not what happened to him and I will gladly give any information or insight I might have about him. But please, Your Majesty, know this: Niflheim is not the perpetrator of this grievous act nor should an entire country be judged because of a reigning Darkness in the prince's heart!"
"Silence!" a fierce, angry roar rips through the room and that same one who attacked her last night, that Gladio stands up and glares at her. Rage echoes in his voice as he shouts, "Don't you dare think yourself on his level, don't you dare judge him!"
"Did you not see him last night?!" Adura demands, stepping forward.
"I knew him from the day he was born!" he comes around the table, towers over her. "You have no idea who he is!"
"And do you know Niflheim as it is now," Adura snarls, "or are you so fixed on the past that you refuse to see us?"
"It would be hasty to accuse, try, and sentence an entire country in less than twenty-four hours since the incident, Gladiolus," one of the council members offers, and older man, his eyes hidden by tinted glasses. He smirks a little. "Besides, what would be their motivation?"
"Revenge?" Gladiolus looks back at Adura, who rolls her eyes. "Niflheim was once the greatest empire on earth and now Lucis is vulnerable, weakened by the good times?"
"Are you joking?" Adura scoffs. "We can barely get transportation out here. How would we besiege Lucis?"
"By threatening the prince, compromising the king!"
"Just shut up, both of you!" King Noctis suddenly cries, the kingly visage dropping and shattering like a piece of glass. He sits back in his chair, covering his face with his hands. "Would you stop yelling, Gladio? I appreciate your opinion but at a different volume."
Adura raises an eyebrow at Gladio. He glowers at her.
Noctis rests his hands against the arms of the chair, taking a deep breath. His face is grey, his hair slips into his eyes. He looks up from the table to Adura.
"There is...no explanation for what happened to Sol last night. There have been no signs of Darkness in him, no signs of demonic activity anywhere near us. And though I will not accuse anyone, the only difference to be found is the presence of Niflheim leaders. There's no way to prove guilt...but there's no way to prove innocence."
The back of Adura's neck burns and she looks down at the floor. It's just what her father said.
And she's always been out to counteract.
They say that's how you fight with a long sword. You keep counteracting, keep up the fight, keep the heat up.
"Your Majesty," she says, slowly looking back up. "I will prove our innocence."
"How?" Noctis asks, raising his head.
Adura looks at Gladiolus, at the council members, at the hopeful azure eyes of the one sitting next to King Noctis. He leans forward, his blonde hair shimmering in the chandelier light. He is waiting for her to speak, almost begging her to say the words that spill so quickly over her tongue:
"I will find and rescue the crown prince if it is the last thing I do."