December 757 - February 758:
When Reina left Cor's room some time later, it was with a certain reluctance. Not necessarily because she wanted to spend time with him now that—after a year and a half of butting heads at every possible moment—they seemed to have found some sort of understanding, but because she was worried that if she walked away all of this would dissolve. Or it would turn out to be a dream.
Neither fear came true.
They met with the others to discuss the events in Caem and Cor's questions sounded more like clarification and less like accusation. It must have been her imagination that he looked different but, regardless, when the meeting adjourned she felt less like a child a more like a queen.
Not that she was queen.
Still, it was with apprehension that she received Cor's request for a conversation, once the meeting was through. Perhaps he was only saving his criticisms for private, now. But—
"You as well, Ignis," Cor said before Ignis could rise from his seat. Then he caught Iris' eye across the table and nodded to her as well.
Not a private lecture, then. Unless he was going to lecture all of them, but that seemed less likely.
He waited until everyone else had filtered out of the room and the door was shut, leaving just the four of them. Even then, he hesitated a moment. Words, she knew by now, were not his strong point; she waited.
At length, her patience paid off.
"Reina," he said—no more 'Highness'—"There are some matters which should be settled—should really have been settled a year ago—regarding the state of Lucis."
He paused, as if to see if she would interject. When she didn't, he continued, "Thus far we have scraped by with this patchwork government, but if Lucis is to last until the king's return, it would be advisable to come to a more permanent solution."
"What do you suggest?" Reina asked.
"I see no reason not to recreate what we had in Lucis and emulate your father's council. You should be the one to appoint them; that has always been the monarch's privilege."
"I am not—"
"I know," Cor said before she could get the objection out. He almost looked apologetic. "But you would agree that you are the regent."
She said nothing, because that thought had never crossed her mind before. She always thought of herself as a placeholder; it hadn't occurred to her that there was a proper title for an official placeholder. Somehow, it made her sound a little less extraneous.
In spite of her silence, Cor nodded. "Princess regent, then. Noctis would be pleased to give you the responsibility of choosing a council."
Of course he would have. Noct had never wanted to deal with the particulars of ruling a kingdom.
"Very well." Reina let out a breath, holding tight to the arms of her chair. "Do you have recommendations?"
"Were I you, I would start here." Cor's eyes flicked between Ignis and Iris.
"I don't know anything about ruling a kingdom!" Iris objected.
"Neither does Noctis." Reina shot her a smile before turning back to Cor. "Alright. My royal adviser—" she covered Ignis' hand with her own "—and my Shield will be the first two members of Lucis' new ruling council."
Cor nodded his approval.
"I would have you, as well," she said to him.
The stoic calm disappeared. "Ah—government is not my strong point, You Highness. I was pleased with your father's appointment of marshal."
Reina had to fight a smile at the growing look of panic on his face. "Nevertheless, I would have you on my council. Lucis is changing—has changed. We are more in need of commanders than bureaucrats, in this day and age."
"If… that is what you want, I will do it," Cor said, though she didn't miss the lingering hesitation.
"I do. I need someone at my side who isn't afraid to tell me when I've fucked up." She gave him a little smile, not even laughing at him this time. "I gather that was what first drew Father to you."
Cor dropped his gaze. "I was young and foolish."
"At least one of those things is still true," said Reina.
The look he gave her said he wasn't amused. She knew better.
She considered a moment, in silence, and Cid's words came back to her once more, calling out across time.
"Friends'll make you stronger."
Echoing Father—make friends; because she would need them.
An unorthodox retinue it may have been, but she was, after all, an unorthodox ruler. Princess-regent. And besides. They were her retinue.
"Will you?" She asked. "Stay at my side?"
She wasn't asking about the council. Father had his councillors, but he also had his inner circle—those he could confide in, those he could talk to about anything. If she was going to do this, she would need both as well.
He met her gaze across the table, silent for long enough that she knew he understood.
"Until I draw my last breath," he said.
That was the last of the tension between them dissolved. In the weeks and months that followed, Reina often wondered how it had taken so long—and how she had survived a year and a half of antagonism with him when they were so alike. All they had needed was to see it. One tiny piece of information—known but not given—had torn open the floodgates. After that—after she knew he was just afraid and he knew that she understood—it wasn't so difficult to say something.
It took the better part of the afternoon to gather together a potential pool of council candidates, and a few days after that to deliver formal requests and get everything squared away. In the end, in addition to Ignis, Iris, and Cor, Reina also chose Monica, Weskham, Cid, Holly, Dave, Sania Yeagre, Camelia Claustra and two of the de facto refugee leaders: Marcia Lythe and Devon Elkton. It was agreed with very little pomp and ceremony that not everyone would be present for every meeting, given the impracticality of travel and the additional responsibilities that everyone now had.
But Lucis had a ruling council once more.
With Dave in Lestallum more often than not, now, and a growing pool of refugees, he began hunter recruitment in earnest. Reina was surprised at how many people enlisted. Then again, the kingdom was under invasion by daemons, hundreds of thousands of people had been displaced, and a great many people were left without fulfilling work.
Reina tested each of the incoming hunters with her magic—it was a shot in the dark that they would find others who were receptive to Caelum magic like the Glaives were, but it was worth the trouble: they did find some.
They had to repurpose the dining room as a training hall. Iris stopped attending as a trainee and started taking on batches of her own. Whenever they were in town, Gladio and Prompto dropped in to lend their expertise. Reina went, along with Ignis, as often as she was able. It was important for people to see her; it was important that they knew their regent wasn't just a faceless name sitting on a throne and ordering them to their deaths. Perhaps she couldn't join them in the field as often as she would have liked—but she always took the time to visit.
Libertus took on training of the new Glaives. Reina stopped by in those sessions, as well; she was pleased to train with someone who could better emulate what she would face the next time she encountered Ardyn. And she held nothing against the new Glaives. Only the traitors and murderers.
Her own sessions with Cor continued, but after a different fashion. She still insisted on training without magic—the ability to phase and throw fire were no substitute for proper martial training, not when her opponent had both—but once Cor was satisfied that she could reliably phase through anything he could throw at her, they explored new avenues.
"How is your control over the waking Dreams?" Cor tested the weight of a wooden practice blade from the rack. They were still upstairs in the original training room, as it was certifiably impossible to find any time during the day when the new training hall was empty. Reina could do without the audience.
"Patchy at best." She watched him warily; he only pulled out a practice blade when he expected to hit her with it. "Usually when I Dream I… it's hard to explain. I suppose I drop out of the physical world into somewhere else. From there I can pass through time like most people pass through space. But when I'm awake it's different. I don't quite have time to leave this place altogether; I have to just take a peek a few seconds or minutes ahead."
"Is that difficult?"
"It…" She hesitated, catching his gaze and holding it for a moment. They were telling each other things, now; if she expected it from him the least she could do was give the same. "It scares me. Because I can't tell the difference between Dreaming and waking, so if I looked too far or I didn't pull back quite enough I just… wouldn't wake up. I suppose I would keep living on, along some separate timeline and… I would never know it wasn't real until I did wake up."
There was a whole philosophical discussion waiting to be had, packed in here somewhere. If she couldn't tell the difference, did it really matter whether she was living a Dream? Was it really still a Dream if that was her new baseline?
Thoughts for another time. Or never. Never was good.
"So I have to keep one foot in this time, so to speak, and stick just my head through and then drag myself back," she said.
"But you can do it."
"I suppose I can, yes."
"So you could see precisely where your opponent was going to strike and then move out of the way," Cor said.
So that was where this was going.
"Theoretically," she said.
He didn't tell her she had to do it. He didn't tell her she wasn't giving enough if she didn't try it. In fact, looking at him now, she felt sure that he would have let her walk away from this without -so much as a comment. He would have understood.
But… if she always knew where not to be, then she would never be hit. If she was never hit she was never harmed, and Cor and everyone else wouldn't have to worry about her any more.
"Alright. Let's do it."
They squared up and took their respective positions. Reina planted her feet firmly in the present and held on as tightly as she could. Then she Dreamed.
Cor gave little warning as he lunged for her, but phasing was a reflex by now. He stopped to give her a reproving look. Ah. She was supposed to be Dreaming.
No.
She was Dreaming.
She lurched back; the world stuttered and Cor lunged for her, exactly as he had the first time. She just barely had enough time to get out of the way. That time. The second time he whacked her collar bone. Pain shot down her arm and up her neck; she phased out of the way for the next pass.
"You're supposed to be Dreaming." He swung for her again and she phased again.
"I know!" But it was hard to fight the reflex to phase when he was coming straight at her.
Cor paused, sword held loosely at his side. "I know you can do this. And you did—the first time. What changed?"
"I need more time in between." Which didn't make sense, because she could look ahead and come back without having used up a single second. "I can't just get grounded and Dream again that fast, and when I panic I just phase."
"There are worse reflexes to have," Cor said. "But if you need more time then we slow down. No need to run before you walk."
Reina took a deep breath and nodded. She rubbed her collar bone where he had hit her and winced on contact.
"Sorry for that. Are you alright?" He asked.
"I'm sure the whole front of my shoulder will be a rainbow of colors in a few days, but no lasting damage done." She smiled in spite of herself. If someone had told her a few months ago that she would ever walk out of a training session with Cor feeling better about herself, she would have laughed in their face. And yet. "Let's go again."
They worked, finding the right pace through trial and error, until Iris dragged them downstairs for dinner. By that time they were both thoroughly done in, but too stubborn to admit it. It was a good thing Iris was around.
"Tomorrow," Cor said as he dragged a clean towel over the back of his neck and waved Reina out of the training room ahead of him, "We move faster."
Reina only nodded, because she was too thirsty to make her voice work.
"Yup. Sure looks like you two weren't working hard enough. Better crank up the heat." Iris rolled her eyes. Reina smiled. So did Cor, much as he tried to hide it.
Only Ignis was in the kitchen when they arrived—by the clock on the wall, it was well after nine—but the pot of stew on the stove was still bubbling.
"Your Highness." He rose from his seat. "Marshal. Straight out of training, if my nose doesn't deceive me."
"Ignis, shame on you!" Iris said. "A princess doesn't sweat."
"Her Highness may not, but I fear the Marshal has no such privileges."
"I hear a broken nose will fix that." Cor served himself a bowl of soup and sat down—Reina noted—as far away from Ignis as possible.
"Having already been deprived of one sense, I would thank you not to try removing any of the others."
"I'm beginning to regret the decision to convert the dining room into a training hall." Reina sat down near Ignis—though not right next to him, because regardless of whether or not princesses were permitted to sweat, she certainly didn't smell like a flower—and across from Iris once she had her bowl.
"Because then we could put Cor on the other side of the room and not have to smell him?" Iris asked.
"Because then I could sit on the other side of the room and not have to listen," Reina said.
From the way Iris caught her eye across the table and shot her a grin, she knew: she wasn't fooling anyone.
"In all seriousness," Ignis said, "With the growing population inside the Leville, it would behoove us to have a larger dining area. I believe there are one or two adjacent, ground-level rooms here—" he pointed over his shoulder toward the left side of the kitchen "—and we might knock through a wall or two and have them combined."
Reina nodded through a bite of soup. "Put it on the to-do list; we have people with the construction expertise."
"Of course," Ignis said. "Though it may have to wait until the new housing block has finished construction."
"That takes precedence. We can—"
"Hey," Iris said. "Hey! What did we say? No working at the dinner table!"
Ignis lifted his hands. "Apologies."
They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments. Cor did smell. Reina didn't tell him.
Then: "The soup has been getting thinner," Cor noted.
"Indeed," said Ignis. "I fear the Glaives have been scraping the bottom of the barrel on salvage missions. We are a year and a half in and all canning facilities have shut down."
"With the daylight hours dwindling further every day," said Cor.
"Can't we still hunt?" Iris asked.
"To a degree," said Ignis. "But it would seem that the beasts outside are also becoming corrupted… and I should not like to find out what that tastes like."
"Then we have to find some way to grow food," said Iris. "Like a greenhouse—but with lights."
Reina nodded. "The question is where to put it—safe land is becoming scarce."
"Well," Iris said, "There's all that space up by the power plant—they're not actually using it, and—damn it, now you've got me doing it!"
Reina hid a smile behind her hand. It had taken her long enough to notice.
"A bad influence is what you are," Iris said. "All of you!"
No one contradicted her.