It was nearing dark by the time they pulled into Insomnia. The Kingsglaive transports would usually have gone straight to their headquarters, but they were accommodating enough to take Regis to the bottom of the Citadel steps. Clarus awaited him there, with Reina at his heel.
"I can't decide whether to be relieved or furious," Clarus said in an undertone once Regis reached them.
"Let us try relieved for now. You will have ample time to be furious with me in the future." Regis held out both his hands to Reina, though now that he had climbed halfway up the steps, he wasn't certain he had the strength to lift her. If she had still been but a toddler it would have been a different matter altogether. But at nine years of age she was growing too heavy to comfortably carry around anymore. That and, regardless of his stoicism, his unrestrained use of magic today did tax him.
She came running to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him with her face buried in his coat.
"Reina, my dear, thank you. You words were immeasurably helpful." Regis stroked her hair, holding her loosely.
She peered up at him. "I helped?"
"You did, Little Princess. Is it possible for you to tell me if they are likely to come to Insomnia within the next few days?" He had yet to restore the Wall to full power. He could do it, if the situation called for it, but all things equal, he would have preferred to maintain it at half power while he recovered from the warp across Lucis and his fight with Drautos. Once the adrenaline of the battle had worn off, the exhaustion had settled in. All he wanted now was a very long nap.
Reina shook her head. "I don't think they will, Father." But there was an uncertainty to her voice. Not the same as the declaration she had made just before he had left. He would simply have to be on alert.
"I will use caution then. Thank you, my dear."
"You might as well retire," Clarus said, "If you feel as terrible as you look."
"That bad?" Regis managed a smile. Clarus only glowered in response. Ever the mother hen. And here Regis had thought that was Weskham's job. In his absence, Clarus seemed to have taken it on—after a fashion.
"I'll see to the court and council. I'm sure Avun will send something up for your dinner," Clarus said in clipped tones as he turned to walk back inside.
The relief had worn off already, it seemed.
Regis sighed, looking down at Reina. He made up his mind and lifted her into his arms—though his muscles objected every inch of the way—and climbed the last of the steps carrying her.
In the upper levels, Crea awaited them with Noctis and Ignis.
"Welcome home." She smiled. It faded when she truly looked at him. "Difficult day?"
"One of the most." Regis let Reina slide out of his arms—by that point it was all he could do—and dropped into an armchair. "General Glauca of Niflheim—the man who was once captain of my Kingsglaive and a general in Lucis' army—is no more."
Reina climbed into his lap as soon as he was seated. She waved to Noctis who joined them a moment later. It was a tight fit for the armchair these days. He should have chosen the sofa, but that was two steps farther. Two steps he would rather not take, if at all avoidable.
Crea considered him. She had little notion of the history that had led to this point or the weight of Regis' words, but she knew him well enough to glean something of their significance to him.
Avun stepped away from the elevator. "I will inform the kitchens that His Majesty will take dinner up here tonight."
"Thank you, Avun." Regis rested his head against the back of his chair and shut his eyes. If he could stay awake until dinner, it would be an accomplishment.
He didn't.
The next thing he remembered was Reina hugging his neck and kissing his cheek. "Wake up, Father. Dinner is here."
He blinked, trying and failing to remember when he had fallen asleep in the first place. He gave up. It wasn't important.
"I shall have a bath waiting for you in your rooms, Sire." Avun leaned into his field of vision.
"Thank you, Avun; that sounds lovely." Regis hugged Reina tight, then released her, shooing her away to get her own dinner. Instead she returned a moment later with a plate for him.
He stared at her for a moment before convincing his tired brain to take the plate. What a singular child. She always had been, in one way or another.
The meal passed with little note. Regis was too tired to taste much of his dinner, but he made it all the way through his plate. Crea made sure that Noctis and Reina did the same, though Reina was rarely a trouble in that regard. He left them in her capable hands and made good use of the bath Avun had drawn for him. He had only just climbed out when a knock came to his door. Avun, to see if Regis needed anything else, in all likelihood.
"Enter," Regis called.
Instead of Avun, Crea entered. And Regis found himself standing in his bedroom wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist with a stunned Crea staring at him. A blush rose to her cheeks. It wasn't that she hadn't seen him before but those had been different times entirely.
"Apologies," Regis said hurriedly. "I had expected Avun."
"I'm sorry—I'll just—" She turned back toward the door.
"Crea, wait—" He took a step forward, then stopped himself. "What was it you needed?"
"I…" She kept her hand on the doorknob and her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. "I was just going to ask if you wanted me to put Reina and Noctis in their own beds tonight."
That was something they had discussed, wasn't it? And while the thought of having privacy again for the first time in months had seemed a priority at the time, currently the thought of sleeping in a cold bed without his two favorite people on Eos seemed unpalatable.
"Not tonight," he said, mouth dry. "Reina saved lives today—mine among them. I would not push her away after that."
"She's worried about you, you know."
Why wouldn't she just look at him?
"I know. She is extraordinarily empathetic for a child."
"Sometimes." For an instant, Crea's eyes darted up toward his, a little smile on her face. Then she remembered he was all but nude and she looked back at the floor. "Anyway, you're probably right. I don't think she would be very receptive of the idea tonight. Might as well let her sleep here."
"It is likely for the best," Regis agreed.
"Well… I'll send them in, in a few minutes. Or you can come retrieve them. Whichever." She pulled the door open and fled before he could respond. It shut behind her, leaving Regis to stare at the spot where she had stood and wish he had thought of something else to say to her.
That night he slept a dreamless sleep with Noctis and Reina wiggling in his arms. The first time they had ever shared his bed, nearly eight years ago now, he had marveled that anyone—least of all they, themselves—could sleep through such a wiggly night. Now he wondered if it wouldn't be more unsettling to have a still and empty bed.
The following day, Regis was feeling marginally better—at least physically—and Reina and Noctis both seemed in good spirits. Clarus was still angry with him, and he made that abundantly clear when he arrived in the morning to request Regis' attendance in court. Rather than provoke him further, Regis went, electing to be a proper king for the first time in several months, though he did first ensure that both Reina and Noctis would accept his absence. They did. If not cheerfully then gracefully. They had interesting school tasks to look forward to and Fidelia was scheduled to bring Iris to play later that afternoon. It was a sufficient distraction for Reina.
Court was more or less as expected. A debriefing was held with Captain Ulric, though it was mere formality, given that Regis himself had been present for the battle. Over all, the council was pleased at the elimination of General Glauca and the recovery of his prototype armor—if for no other reason than that it removed that technology from the empire.
No word had come, yet, regarding how Niflheim had taken the defeat, but they expected intelligence from their agents in the near future. Otherwise, it was business as usual in Lucis.
Regis returned to the upper levels and to his children, once court was adjourned. For once he sought solitude. Most days his children were a great comfort to him, but today he could not shake the feeling of having blood on his hands and the belief that he would taint everything pure that he touched.
Drautos had been a good man. He could not reconcile that with what he now knew of the man the empire had called Glauca. Decades they had known each other. Regis would even have counted Drautos among his friends, before. He had shared his magic, his knowledge of Caelum heritage, everything he had to share. And the result of that was a man who believed him a weakling and a coward who could not protect his own people.
How had it come to this? How was it that no one had suspected a thing? How was it that Regis' hands were now coated with his blood?
It would have been the other way around, if not this.
He took little comfort in that knowledge. Drautos—Glauca—whoever he had been—would not have rested until Regis was dead. And so Regis could not afford to let him live.
How long had it been since he had taken a life? Countless had died due to his actions, but that was incomparable to taking a life with his own hands. A life he had once called friend.
The balcony door slid open. Regis turned to see Crea standing in the doorway to the library.
"I should have known you'd be here." She shut the door and came to stand beside him, leaning against the railing and looking down toward the Citadel drive, hundreds of feet below.
"Why is that?"
"It's where Reina and Noctis like to hide when they want to be alone."
Regis smiled bitterly. "Like father, like children."
"In more ways than that, but yes," Crea said, and nothing more for a time.
Though he had come for solitude, he found he didn't mind her presence. That was just as well. He would not have been able to shoo her away even if he had. And perhaps she knew better than he. Perhaps it was best if he wasn't left alone just now.
"You've been troubled ever since coming back from Cape Shawe," she said after several minutes of silence.
Regis nodded mutely.
"Will you tell me what's bothering you?"
"I don't rightly know how to quantify it," he said. "Titus Drautos is dead by my hand."
"Your hand?" Her eyebrows went up. Before now, she had known him only as a king and a gentleman. Would he be a killer in her eyes, now?
"My hand." Regis looked down at his hands, half expecting to see blood smeared there and spattered across the front of his suit. "I was the only one who could stand against him."
She was quiet for a long time. Too long. He looked up and found her contemplating him with a furrow on her brow. Perplexed.
"There's so much I want to ask, but I understand you don't necessarily share political matters with a nanny."
"Would you like me to?" He asked.
"I'd like to understand. I'd like to know what's troubling you and help if I can."
So he told her. It required delving well into the past: how Drautos had once been his general and then the captain of his Kingsglaive before Reina revealed his true nature. With that foundation he told the tale of all that had happened the day before, with as much detail as he dared recall.
"And now he is gone," Regis said. "I cannot decide if that leaves the world a better place or not."
"I'm not surprised," she said. "He was your friend once. Of course you feel conflicted."
Regis shook his head. "The man that was my friend never lived. I must come to terms with that."
She didn't fill the silence with pointless words. She didn't try to convince him he was wrong. But she stood beside him quietly waiting.
"Any good I might have removed from the world when I took his life was never real in the first place. But it still feels foul to have his blood on my hands."
He clenched his hands on the balcony rail. Crea covered one with both of hers. "I don't think any less of you for having taken a life. Nor does anyone else. You've done what you always do: protected Lucis when you were the only one who could."
He looked up at her. Up to that point, he hadn't realized how concerned he had been that she would think differently of him. A weight lifted from his shoulders.
"Thank you." He caught her hands in his for a moment before he remembered himself. He let her go and turned away once more.
They both fell silent, staring out across the city. Regis saw it not at all. He hadn't for many years. Yes, he was vaguely aware, when he looked out his window, that it was a lovely view and one that anyone in the city would have paid a premium for. He would have much preferred a more humble view. He would have traded all the views of the Citadel for a run-down apartment in the outer city if he could wake every morning to Crea's face. He could have, if he wasn't king.
Regis sighed. Dangerous thoughts. He had believed they had already been banished, but she brought them back whenever he let his guard down.
He studied her out of the corner of his eye. Crea. The only mother his children had ever known, though Regis had always done his best to remember Aulea to them. Where would they have been without her? All three of them would have been lost. Indeed, they had been for a few years. He only realized how badly adrift they had been when she had reined them all back in.
"Move back to the Citadel." The words fell from his lips before he could catch them.
Crea looked up at him, surprised. He tried to decide whether to apologize or stand his ground.
"Please, Crea." His heart chose the latter, with or without his consent. "Reina and Noctis will need you all the more once they stop sleeping in my room. It would be a great comfort to them to have you here all the time."
"Regis…" She sighed, dropping her gaze.
"And I need you."
If she moved back to the Citadel, she would always be just a door away when he needed a sympathetic ear and a cup of tea. Things could go back to how they had been and…
And the council would complain again. They would tell him he needed to marry her or send her away again. It wasn't fair to her, giving her this half life as nanny to the prince and princess, and mistress to the king. She deserved so much better.
She looked back up at him, conflicted.
"Please," he repeated. "I ask nothing more of you. You commit to nothing by moving here. With the hours you work, the only thing that changes is where you lay your head at night. And, as usual, you will still be free to choose your own schedule."
Indecision chased around her face. It took a moment before her expression solidified. "You know I can't say no to you."
"I wish that were true."
She smiled sadly. "Just moving back in."
"Of course."
What was one more lie they told themselves?