52
Via trita est via tuta
L.N. 1-2
I
Every evening when she'd close her eyes and say to herself another day has gone, every morning when her watch would beep and she'd reopen them, Silia lost track more and more of time. It was not the first time that it had happened to her. As a child, she had the impression of being born under Imperial garrison – understandably since Ambrosia had been occupied when she was too young to remember what life was like before. As a teenager, she had felt as if she had been dragging herself for centuries in the degradation of the refugee district of the Crown City. After joining the Kingsglaives, she had the feeling of having been in training for a lifetime. As an adult, it was like she had always been at war. A strong adaptability, she believed, for better or for worse.
Her strong adaptability was what allowed her to take the reins of Hammerhead at the end of August 756 and to adjust herself in that role, ending up forgetting that she had not wanted it and that, again in her life, she was a toothpick to shore up a dam. This time, at least, in the vague waiting for a pouring of cement that would block the flood, of which, she was certain, would sooner or later arrive.
A harsh routine, less unpredictable than the years of war but tight like those of training, imposed itself in her dark days and prevented her from taking note of the time that passed. There was an alarm at 5 o'clock – when she slept – then the morning news, training, checks, management, inventories, complaints, issues, sometimes night watch, all interspersed with missions outside Hammerhead, more strenuous because she had to keep twenty eyes on her guys, not to mention the assemblies at Lestallum. It wasn't just that. People always came to her to ask for everything. She seemed to have become the custodian of the wisdom of the world, even of things she had no idea about.
At the end of November 756, a week after arriving in Hammerhead with her group, a woman from Niflheim went into labor without anyone noticing - or saying - that she was pregnant. Who knows what the fuck had crossed her mind when she had decided to keep it hidden; maybe she wanted to kill the baby herself if he or she was born infected, or she was afraid that the Lucians would hurt him. Two Imperial refugees almost knocked down the door of her container at 2 in the morning asking her to do something. Swearing between her teeth for the situation that, with a little warning, could have been much less problematic, Silia tried to recall to memory all she knew of childbirth: fucking nothing. Aidan Tate was an emergency doctor who had recycled himself as an all-round doctor but had never attended a woman giving birth. Claudio knew how a woman's inside was made only from anatomy books and she had her doubts he knew the outside at all. Silia sent Gladio to call Longwythe by radio to ask if they had an obstetrician, a gynecologist, a veterinarian, a fucking midwife, whoever knew anything about it, and told him to be ready to escort the woman there, if necessary. Wasted effort; there was no one available and she found herself in the infirmary between Tate and Claudio as they tried to save what could be saved. By the power of nature, they both came out unharmed, mother and child, but Silia had to acknowledge that there was another potential problem to solve at Hammerhead: that of births, in fact. They had an ultrasound machine, and Silia threatened to throw out of the camp anyone who, at the slightest doubt, did not undergo a visit in order to be adequately assisted. If you want to have children, you're more than welcome, indeed, you're doing a favor to the world, given how few of us are left, she recommended. But, even if the unexpected is always around the corner, I'm not gonna find myself in such a mess again, if it can be avoided. That woman could have given birth safely in the Lestallum hospital. Instead she risked her life in an infirmary assisted by three people who didn't know where to put their hands.
When the few residents in Hammerhead who had survived the first wave had been joined by the survivors of Kirkdale, then of Edgehills, Ratters, Pinette, Worthrus, no one had experienced problems squeezing in, sharing resources and offering any kind of support, even psychological, to people who had suffered the same calamity. Women who had lost their children became mothers of children who had lost their parents; men devastated from losing their families had found new friends, companions of misfortunes to share a glass with at the end of the day, pats on the back, even lovers. The arrival of the Imperials risked putting these balances to the test; the newcomers were few, actually – thirteen, including two children – but enough to create a predictable confusion.
They came about ten days after her return from Orior, where Silia had escorted Tummelt, accompanied by three hunters and two City Guards from Lestallum she wasn't familiar with. That deployment of forces, Cor had warned her, as well as to make sure the thirteen arrived unscathed, had been a provision by Cassandra Gavril to stem any demonstrations of dissent by the residents of Hammerhead. There wasn't need to specify that it hadn't been his idea, because Silia knew very well that Cor considered her perfectly capable of looking after her guys.
When the van and the car arrived and they were all face to face in front of Cid's hangar, however, Silia felt like the warlord of one of those old stories of ancient and absolutely implausible wars, wars that began with the two armies neatly deployed like at the beginning of a football match and not with an ambush or a bombing like in real life.
"Okay," she said, trying to look confident. Shitmus test, she reminded herself. "Welcome, all of you. I hope someone explained the situation as soon as you got to Lucis, the real situation, I mean. If it isn't, we'll answer your questions. I'm Silia Hartwood. Hammerhead accounts to me." She let her gaze wander in silence for a few moments, on the new ones to point out the concept, but also on her people, as a reminder. "You have my word that you'll be treated in the same way as the Lucian people. If this is not the case, if someone within the perimeter of this camp allows himself to be insolent, or worse, please tell me and adequate measures will be taken. You don't have to consider yourselves as guests or refugees: Hammerhead, starting today, is your home." She paused again. "Since you're not guests, but homeowners, you're also responsible for keeping this place functional. Here we all work hard, and I demand that you do the same. You'll be given something to do based on your age and your skills. We don't exploit children for labor, but children help too, here, and soon we'd also like to let them study, but I want to remind everyone that Hammerhead, given the times, is not a town, but a military outpost. We train for combat to protect you and others out there. We don't force anyone to fight, but if you know how to do it, I say it for your sake, take it up and train yourselves to improve. If you don't know how to do it and you want to learn, train yourselves and learn. Every additional person able to fight or at least to look after himself is precious. Having said that, you'll be tired and hungry, and I won't keep you here any further. There's a meal ready for you in the diner and there are already temporary accommodations where you can rest. You'll be walked through it all in the coming days."
Murmurs of approval. Silia looked at Iris who nodded, winking. "Please follow me!" she exclaimed, smiling.
"There's also a drop for those who want it," Gladio added, walking toward the diner.
"Of course, for you, too," Silia said to the hunters and the Guards. "Stay as long as you want. I'll join you soon. I need to have a few words with one person first."
She had immediately identified the Imperial officer as soon as he had gotten out of the car. Only the inexperienced can't tell a soldier from a civilian at a glance. It's not just the muscles or the scars; war breaks something in your eyes, as Silia had the chance to notice every time she was in front of a mirror.
"Please come with me, Roth," she said, kindly but firmly. She knew an officer would arrive, and she had not yet figured out whether it was a coincidence or a spite of Cassandra Gavril. "It won't be long."
Roth nodded. He had expected it, she thought. As everyone entered the diner from the front door, she led him to the back. He must be slightly older than Cor Leonis, fifty or fifty-two, even if he looked much older. Old enough to have fought in person when the magitek infantry hadn't yet been implemented. Maybe he had killed people in Tenebrae, if not Lucis. White line, she and the others always said, and it was also true for him, but it was not a good reason not to make things clear.
"I am a Kingsglaive," she told him without beating around the bush once they were alone. He was a tall, muscular man, dressed almost entirely in black. His hair, unlike that of Cor, had begun to turn gray and, on his face marked by some scars, one could see a look of ancient martial subdued by recent deaths.
The man nodded again. "I was informed, Hartwood."
Not 'Ms. Hartwood', not 'Boss'. Usually it was she who discouraged people to call her like that. She wouldn't ask him to do it. It's not a title that forges respect. She herself called Cor 'Marshal' more for affection than for convention, the same reason why he kept on calling her by her last name. "I was informed you were a colonel."
"Correct," he answered simply. Clearly, he wasn't much of a talker.
"Well, not anymore," she replied. "The Niflheim army no longer exists. Here you are Safay Roth. Sword Sworn, since you can fight, if you wish and when I consider it appropriate. You'll train with us, if you want to keep yourself fit, but here we have newcomers, so don't let yourself get too carried away. I'll send you out on a mission when I decide I trust you enough to give you my guys. In the meantime, can you do anything else?"
Safay Roth stared at her in silence.
"Neither can I," replied Silia. "I'm learning. We'll think of something. Questions?"
The man bent down. "No. Just one thing to be specified. You have been informed that I can fight, but maybe they failed to report to you one detail." He pulled up the right leg of his trousers. He had a prosthesis from below the knee, down. It was darker than hers and seemed much less avant-garde. "Still good, but not as good as before. I was waiting to change it before Gralea fell. I don't know how long it will last."
Silia kind of laughed. "How did you lose your leg?"
Safay Roth didn't blink. "Tenebrae, twenty-five years ago. A fire flask."
"Well, such a nice coincidence. If others arrive, we can start a club." Silia also bent to roll up the right leg of her trousers. "I lost it in Lucis almost two years ago. A Jormungand deployed by the Niflheim army. This still works perfectly, but I too can't foresee how long it will last without technicians and specialists. Fingers crossed."
Again, the Imperial's face betrayed no emotion, but he shifted his gaze from her leg to her face. "How many years of war did you do, Hartwood?"
"Almost ten. Then I had to go back to Insomnia for the implantation of the prosthesis. I suppose your rehabilitation was even more pleasant than mine, twenty-five years ago."
Roth nodded and formally held out his hand. "All right. Tell me what you need me to do and I will do it, Captain Hartwood."
As she shook his hand in return, a flash of revelation crossed Silia's mind; it had not been a coincidence, nor a spite of Cassandra Gavril. Safay Roth would not have gladly obeyed anyone who had not made it through the war, and no other Kingsglaive was at the head of a camp. It was Cor who had sent him to Hammerhead. "You can stop calling me Captain, for example. Happens that there's no longer an army of Lucis as well. Try not to give me problems, Roth. Only the Six know how many we already have. And we need people like you."
Safay Roth never gave problems. Three months later, Silia sent him to Lestallum to appoint him Sworn Sword.
~~~XV~~~
After a few weeks of uncertainty when everyone, between 11 am and 1 pm, had scrutinized the sky wondering if the sun would show up among the clouds, on January 757 what everyone expected, happened; what they had already started to call 'the Long Night' really became a long night. There were no excessive manifestations of panic, substantial changes, or even miracles or cataclysms; they were all prepared, the few hours of daylight in the previous months had been so dark that they still had to keep the artificial lighting on all day, the Chosen King didn't return and they were not swept away by a more virulent horde of daemons or by Ardyn Izunia himself. Nothing at all. They all took it in stride and continued to survive like the day before and how, it was hoped, they would the next day.
II
In February, after an assembly called by the EHSO to make a point of the situation again, Silia took the chance to go to Meldacio HQ before returning to Hammerhead. She had been kept informed through Erik Arnaut and had asked the hunters of her acquaintance when they passed by, but it was the first time she could go there personally.
The HQ hadn't changed much since the last time she was there the previous summer; the frantic atmosphere was the same, because many hunters had been named Sworn Swords and the HQ was a constant coming and going of requests from all over Lucis. First, she went and greeted Madame Auburnbrie, who, as stainless as Cor Leonis, though less busy, had her sit on her porch and offered her a coffee. She asked her about Hammerhead and the Prince's retinue, and - it rarely happened to Silia - she asked her how she was. Silia had never been one to complain, and she didn't tell her that having Hammerhead on her back was fatal, she didn't tell her that dealing with Cassandra Gavril and those like her was even worse. She merely smiled and replied that it was a war, something she was used to since she was a child, and with a little luck she would survive this too.
While finishing her coffee, a girl approached the porch.
"You took some time, Silia Hartwood."
Silia felt something hurt in her chest. A few steps away from her, there was Sarah Helias as a teenager, or rather, a Sarah without the Valkyrie build she'd had since she was a child. The same blue eyes. The same blond hair. Even the same hard look. She was dressed in the manner of hunters - more or less like everyone else was dressed by then: leather bodice on a simple black half-sleeved T-shirt, reinforced trousers, boots and half-fingered gloves - and handled a wooden training sword. Silia stood looking at her in silence for a few moments, then put the empty cup down, thanked Madame Auburnbrie in a low voice and got up.
"Wow," she simply said, leaning her hands on her hips. "I was expecting a frightened little girl with braids, and instead here's a warrior."
Lydia shrugged, peering at her. "I didn't expect you to be so small."
At another time, Silia would have put that impudent girl back in her place. "That's odd," she answered instead, coming down the stairs of the porch, "because Sarah always used to tease me. As if she had forgotten who cleaned her snot at the beginning of her training, who gave her the first swab and explained how children are made."
The girl's rigid expression seemed to melt. She rubbed the sweat and the bead of blood on her forehead, then dropped the training sword to the ground and suddenly seemed to rejuvenate. Without warning, she began to cry. Silia nodded again to Madame Auburnbrie to take her leave, and guided Lydia to put her arm behind her back. "Come on, little Helias. Let's look for a quiet place."
~~~XV~~~
"Sorry. I don't know what got into me. I never cry." Lydia kept rubbing her eyes and nose with her forearm. Silia let her vent without saying anything. "Sarah left home when I was four. But we always stayed in touch, by telephone, by letter, and then we didn't know anything about her. When Insomnia fell, and news of the Glaives' betrayal arrived, my mother and I realized that she would never come back. Were you with her?"
Silia nodded, feeling the acrid taste of guilt in her mouth. She should have been looking for Lydia and her mother before, when she was in Orior, somehow. They had the right to know that Sarah was dead, and how. "It happened on May 16 at the Citadel. In front of the Shrine, while we tried to save the Crystal. Other Kingsglaives attacked us, and only I survived. I want you to know that your sister had my back until the end. Few people in my life have I loved as much as Sarah Helias."
Lydia kept looking at her feet, sitting on a bundle. "I talked to her the day before the attack. She said that after the signing of the treaty she would try to get mum and me to Insomnia. In those days she was depressed and pissed off because of the treaty. She said she no longer knew why she had fought so many years. I asked her why she was staying then, and why she didn't desert. She replied that you would have torn her ass open with your bare hands; that if you thought you had to stay, then it was the right thing to do."
Silia didn't answer immediately, moved. "Perhaps if she deserted, she would still be alive. But it's not true that she didn't do it because of me. Your sister knew very well that she had sworn an oath, and no matter how hot-headed she was, she wouldn't have broken it. She was one of the most loyal people I've ever met."
Lydia raised her head and looked at her. "She talked about you almost every time she'd call home. My mother used to say that she was so glad you were at Sarah's side during the training. Even though Sarah never talked about what was happening in the Training facility, but my mother could imagine what it should be like for an eleven-year-old girl."
No, I don't think so, Silia thought, but she didn't say it. "We came out with our heads held high. But I didn't do as much as you think. There, you wouldn't earn respect if you had someone who protected you. So yes, I kept an eye on her, but she made it alone, or she wouldn't have lasted in war."
"She'd always talk about you," Lydia repeated, "and the others. Sam. Legato. Thomas. Hans. Caesar."
"Lydia," she interrupted her. Silia didn't feel like talking about the front, she didn't want to talk about Squad 6. "Tell me about yourself. How did you end up here? I looked for you in Lestallum, in November. I thought you were there."
"When the Scourge came and people started getting sick, it was hell. My mother was already dead, thankfully, and she didn't see friends and neighbors kill each other to contain the infection. The Niffs, who we had hated so much, had become the last of our problems. When the hunters arrived to evacuate the survivors, the last Imperial officer was taken away with us as if it made no difference." She shrugged. "That's okay, in the end he wasn't so bad. He mostly minded his own business. Our group was evacuated to Lestallum. When the Scourge reached it too, there were few deaths, due to the location and security measures. I didn't immediately understand that it wasn't so obvious that from Safir we ended up in the safest place in all of Lucis." She gave her a sideways glance. "Nicole, one of the hunters who escorted us into the city, told me it was an arrangement of David Auburnbrie, the son of the Meldacio chief. And that the request had come from one of the Kingsglaives. When I came here and started to hear the name of the Coeurl, I did the math."
Silia nodded. "I'm sorry it took me so long, but Safir was reasonably safe until the Scourge arrived. Why didn't you stay in Lestallum, Lydia?" she asked her again.
Again, Lydia shrugged. "Because there's something my sis didn't know. I was waiting to be seventeen to join the Meldacio."
Silia smiled, surprised. Indeed, she was of the same blood as Sarah. "Really?"
Lydia nodded. "The Glaives no longer enlisted, but Meldacio, although not officially lined up, was not on the Imperial side. The hunters helped people. I wanted to do something, too. So, I asked Nicole to let me join. I'm still fourteen, but I thought that with the way things are... Nicole said I could move into the HQ but that Ezma Auburnbrie wouldn't let me join until I was the right age. I could stay with them though and learn something. Then I came here. They're all kind to me. Especially Nicole. Even if the training is very hard, I'm happy. There are other kids my age."
Silia didn't ask her to come with her to Hammerhead, as she had planned to do. Lydia seemed peaceful, and she couldn't think of a better place for her. She would be safe at HQ, hunters would keep an eye on her. For a moment, she felt Sarah's absence like a jab between her shoulder blades, and Silia put her hand on Sarah's sister's head. "Go get 'em, little Helias. Sarah would have been proud of you. If you need anything, just call Hammerhead by radio."
"Are you going away already?" Lydia asked.
"I don't want to interrupt your training session more than that."
Lydia smiled. "When I heard the Coeurl had come to the HQ, I asked permission to interrupt for a very important issue."
Silia stood up and put her hands in her pockets. "I could wait. Who were you training with?"
"David Auburnbrie."
"Let's go and ask Dave if you can train with me this morning. I want to see how you handle it. Are you up for it?"
Lydia's eyes widened. "Of course I am! Everybody will be so envious!"
III
In December of the second year of the Long Night, when the hours of daylight were already a memory, Silia, exhausted, consented to marry Gladio. She could never explain how or why, after having refused him every day for so long. Simply, one night as she was about to say no as usual, she realized that the refusal had become a superstitious gesture like the exchange of words with Sam about the girl from Quirm, a self-punishment that nobody enjoyed, a masochistic legacy of their ancient reticence. Saying 'yes' would not change anything, after all. It would not prevent Gladio from following the Chosen King when he returned and dying with him, if he was destined to do so, it would not prevent her from stepping aside. So, without explaining, to avoid admitting that she could have done it before, when the dust at Hammerhead had settled down a little, she said yes.
She was expecting a noisy expression of enthusiasm, but Gladio was speechless, motionless. He asked her to repeat. When he was sure he had understood, he got up from the bed, put his pants back on, and opened the container door, barefoot and bare-chested.
"Where are you going?" she asked, bewildered. "It's three in the morning."
He pointed a finger at her. "I'm summonin' witnesses. You'll repeat it in front of them. Don't think about taking it back, Silia Hartwood."
Silia would have simply declared their marriage by radio to Lestallum's registry office the next day, so as to end it immediately, but Gladio objected, saying that he had seconded her for more than a year, now they would have to do it his way. The following days he'd go around the camp with an ecstatic expression, so much so that Silia felt almost guilty for not having accepted before; however hard she tried, however, she couldn't understand why he was so happy. She never told him openly, however, because - Cor Leonis was right - there was so little room for happiness since the sun had stopped raising, that she didn't want to affect his in any way. So, she didn't object when he unilaterally decided to arrange a dinner for all the residents of Hammerhead and to also invite Cor, Dustin, Monica, Weskham and the other Kingsglaives. She didn't object when he unilaterally decided that he would ask Ghiranze for two identical rings. She did not object when he unilaterally decided that on the day of the dinner she would be a woman like all the others and Ignis would take the lead of Hammerhead in her place for twenty-four hours. She left him to his cheerful preparations, silently happy with his happiness and the cheerfulness with which everyone gave him a hand.
Until 756, Silia had felt at home only in Orior. Now, with a container shared only by Gladio and her, an outpost that depended on her, Iris and Talcott who behaved - and basically were - like two younger siblings to raise, she understood what she had missed during the years on the front. Gladio's presence, day after day, had become an integral part of her routine; they didn't spend much time together, but Hammerhead was so small that they crossed continuously, and at the mere glimpse of him from behind, focused on something, for an instant her lips folded into a spontaneous smile. For the first time, since the Mesmerize had made pulp of her uterus in her twenties, she realized that perhaps, after all, she might even have children.
The "Big Day" set by Gladio, as everyone called it apart from her, finally came. When she woke up at 5 o'clock, as usual, she found out that he had already gotten up who knows how long before her. They had cleared the area in front of Cid's workshop and were setting up huge tables that popped up from seemingly nowhere. When she asked for the news from the night, Frank politely refused to give it to her. He had already forwarded them to Ignis. When she looked for the children for the morning training, they told her that Gladio and Ignis had canceled all the activities of the day. When she went to her new husband and his best friend to protest the coup, trying not to get pissed off, they told her that the surveillance of the turrets was guaranteed, and all the rest was none of her business. They even prevented her from helping out with the set-up.
If they wanted to do her a favor, it wasn't so. Without anything to do she risked going crazy. She tried for the whole morning to get into an activity, but everyone, continuing to apologize and say with all due respect, no offense, orders are orders, didn't let her. Shortly after lunch time she resigned herself to take up a book and lay down in bed to read. She realized she was nervous. It's just a fucking dinner, she kept telling herself, just so everyone can relax for once. Apart from me, clearly.
The first vehicle to arrive, immediately after 3, was Orior's jeep. When Cor Leonis came down with Dustin, Monica and Luka, she had to control herself so as not to show herself amazed. The Marshal acted as if, just twenty-four hours earlier, he hadn't told her dryly by radio that with all his commitments he wouldn't be able to come for such nonsense. Silia had agreed with him that it was really nonsense, and that it was Gladio who had arranged everything, but - she wouldn't even tell him under torture - she hadn't seen him for seven weeks and had hoped to take the opportunity to do it.
"Hartwood," said Cor, nonchalantly, once the other three, after congratulating, left to greet all the others. "Help me unload this stuff from the car."
There was no stuff to unload in the trunk save a military bag. "I brought you something," Cor said in a low voice. "The size will probably be wrong, but I suppose you can fix it in no time."
Astonished, Silia opened the bag and pulled out a Kingsglaive uniform jacket. There was also a bodice, trousers, shoulder straps, a reinforced hood, gloves and a belt, even a blue cloak. Her mouth went dry with emotion. Cor Leonis had brought her a complete Kingsglaive uniform.
"For whatever reason, I suppose you won't wear a wedding dress," he said, his voice even lower, without looking her in the face. "So, I brought you a different kind of formal dress."
"Cor," she said, feeling her throat shrink to the size of an eye of a needle. It was a female uniform. Who knew who it had belonged to. "Where the hell did you find it?"
"Driscoll," he said, with a faint wave of his hand, getting up.
The Kingsglaives had been stationed at Driscoll in 748. "What a coincidence," she smiled. "Did the hunters find it? How long have you been keeping it, huh?"
Cor didn't answer, but finally looked back at her. "Take it to Iris to have it readjusted, if you want to wear it."
Silia clutched the bag to her chest. "Of course I want to wear it. Thank you, Cor."
"Don't thank me. I just brought you a uniform."
"Thank you for being here."
She turned abruptly. That day was already a big blow to her authority. They had deprived her, she was getting married, all she missed was to start crying.
When Iris found out what the Marshal had brought her and why, it was she who almost started to cry. Silia would find out why a few hours later; after dinner was finished – she had worn the uniform – Iris, Cindy, Cestia and even Monica surrounded her. She thought they wanted to give them their congratulations, but Cestia tackled her and, among the general laughter – everyone in Hammerhead knew it – Iris announced publicly that she had spent the last two weeks sewing a dress, a real white woman's dress, and that, with all the due respect to the Marshal and his wedding present, she would now wear it.
"No," Silia replied categorically.
"Come on," Cindy said impatiently. "Iris worked on it at night."
"I don't care. Cestia, leave my arms or it ends badly."
"Silia, please," Iris pleaded. "Just for a couple of hours!"
"I said no!"
"Hartwood, I warn you," Cestia threatened her. "We all agreed to undress you here and keep you naked until you wear it."
"Go ahead. I don't care."
"My ass!" Gladio shouted. Again, everyone laughed.
"Silia, come on." Even Monica was against her. She lowered her voice. "It's just for a couple of hours. It's just a dress. It won't affect your authority. There is nothing wrong if you occasionally show your... feminine side, if you allow me to."
Monica was the only one to hit the spot. It was not a question of clothes. Men and women at the camp respected her, otherwise she could not continue to lead them. She looked around, looking for an ally. Gladio, not even talking about it, he had to be Iris' accomplice or even the instigator. Cid held out a glass to her, blinking. Dustin looked away in embarrassment. The other Glaives, it was a miracle that they were not there to hold her arms with Cestia. Cor, her last hope, simply shrugged with a frown, as if to say she was on her own.
"Tomorrow," she promised, "there'll be trouble for the three of you. Latrines, guard shifts at the most unlikely times, inventories and whatever will come to my mind awaits you."
"Tomorrow," Ignis reminded her, cutting her short. "Today it is not for you to decide. Go and wear that dress, Silia, before they strip you and Gladio freaks out."
Silia, purple with shame and anger, with her head down, let them push her up to the container that Cindy shared with Iris. Puffing, nibbling at the inside of her mouth to not say something she would regret later, she carefully slipped off her Kingsglaive uniform and let Iris, with pins in her mouth, pass a dress over her head.
"I'm sorry I couldn't take measurements of you," she apologized, placing the pins on her hips, "But it would have ruined the surprise... or maybe I should say the ambush. Gladio brought me your clothes secretly and I measured them, but it's not the same thing." She took two steps away and smiled. "However, it looks rather good. Just give me a minute to add a stitch or two here and there."
"Girls, you'll pay for this," she threatened them again.
Cestia was in the doorway with her arms crossed as if, in case Silia decided to leave, she could have done something to stop her. She gave a crooked smile. "It will be worth it."
"You think so? Don't defy me, Cestia."
"Jeez, you're just making it worse, pal, if I can say so." Delilah had followed them. "At this point, you might as well eat shit and pretend it tastes good. Since they're doing it anyway, make people believe that it's just because you don't give a fuck and you allowed it." She frowned and showed her teeth. "And smile, for the Six. It's your wedding."
Silia gave her the finger.
~~~XV~~~
After yet another toast, Gladio felt the need to slip out of the confusion for a few minutes. He was not used to so much attention, he was one step away from his first hangover in years, and he felt tachycardic, agitated, although perfectly clear. With the excuse of going to the bathroom, he returned for a moment to his and Silia's container, washed his face, and remained in the dark. The music and the noise also arrived there, obviously, but more muffled.
He sat on the bed and took three deep breaths. The night before, drinking a glass with Prompto and Ignis in a discreet and melancholy stag party in the back of the diner, he had sworn to himself and to the others that he wouldn't think of Noctis for the whole of the next day, and so it was until that moment. But while he was drinking, all of a sudden, he had looked around, saw himself surrounded by happy people, and realized he was fucking happy. Despite the Long Night, despite Noctis missing his wedding, despite the dead and Izunia and the Scourge and all the rest, he was fucking happy. Indeed, going back in his mind to his years at Insomnia he failed to remember a moment when he had been happier than this. The 757 had been a quiet year for all of them, he had never been so fit, Prompto had started to take a reason for Noctis' absence and Ignis' training was going very well. He could also meet Cor and his other friends from the Guard at least once a month or two, Iris and Talcott grew and became increasingly independent and smart, and Silia, fuck, after a year there were mornings when he'd wake up and find her beside him and wondered how the fuck was all this possible.
He took a fourth deep breath, got up from the bed, and opened the door of the container, letting himself be infiltrated by the sparkling December air. He had feared the rain so far, but the day had been perfect. All because of the alcohol, he decided, if his happy euphoria had turned into anguish for a moment. He didn't have to drink so much. He was no longer used to it.
Before returning to the table with the others, he decided to take a few more minutes and sat on one of the crates with which they had surrounded the area of the party. He smiled, looking at Silia, unrecognizable in the dress Iris had prepared for her, sitting with the other Glaives. He turned the ring with the Bahamut engraving on his finger, to which he had not yet become accustomed. He couldn't believe that she had allowed all this - marrying him, the dinner, the dress, the ring. Her edges due to the rigor of fifteen years between war and military life were beginning to soften after all.
"Gladio." Monica joined him in small steps. "Excuse me, am I bothering you? Did you want to be alone?"
"Not at all," he lied, smiling. "I was just taking a breath. I've drunk too much. Don't tell Silia, please," he winked.
"Oh, I think Silia drank more than you," Monica chuckled. "But tonight it's allowed, isn't it? I just wanted to tell you how happy I am for you." Monica, usually so reserved, leaned her hand on his face. "I wish Clarus was here. He would have approved your choice."
"Oh, I don't know," Gladio replied, embarrassed. "I don't think he would have liked Silia's temper so much. He couldn't even stand Cor's when he was a kid. And Silia..." He pursed his lips then, since it was Monica, he told her. "Silia can't have children."
"Oh." Monica was silent for a moment. She turned for a moment in Silia's direction. "I'm sorry, Gladio."
"You don't have to be, she's fine with it. And I've come to terms with the matter, after all it's nobody's fault, right? But you know how rigid my father was about certain things. Marriage was a duty like any other, for him, and had to be carried out as such, in all its aspects."
Monica was silent for a moment. "Gladio, it's not like that."
"Of course it is," he retorted. "Duty first and foremost. And the duty of the Amicitias is to make sure that every King has his back covered by a Sworn Shield. If Noctis has children, it will probably be Iris' son who'll be his Sworn Shield." He scratched his hairline uncomfortably. "Or at least that's what I would have told you last year. Now the circumstances are so different that I can't think about it. Sorry if I talked about such serious things, Monica. You just wanted to give me your best wishes."
Monica jumped easily and sat next to him on the crate. "If you really want to know, Clarus did not have a marriage in mind for you and Iris, or he would have arranged it at your birth with suitable people. He did not want to put on your back other pressures, Gladio, nor bind Iris. They will choose according to their conscience when the time comes, I heard it once said to King Regis. And I'm sure they will make the best choice."
Their conscience, not their heart, Gladio thought, but didn't say it. Monica had been very fond of her father, so much so that often as a kid he wondered why Clarus hadn't remarried with her. The age difference was not that big. But growing up he had assimilated that there is an infinite range of types of love, and not every of them end up with marriage.
"Anyway," Monica continued, "it's not true that Clarus wouldn't have liked her. I know they talked in Insomnia once. He told it to me and Dustin in confidence."
"An Astral War. I would have given anything to be present."
"And in confidence, Clarus told us that, under other circumstances, he couldn't have imagined a better profile for the companion of a Crownsguard."
Gladio felt he was blushing. That too had to be an effect due to alcohol. Suddenly, he missed his father terribly. "What a coincidence that Cor found a Kingsglaive uniform by chance," he said to change the subject.
Monica smiled. One of those maternal and slightly irritating smiles that says you'll understand when you're older but tinged with a bit of fun. "It was no chance. He specifically sought it in Driscoll. The Kingsglaives were stationed there for two months in 748."
"Don't tell me that Marshal Cor Leonis sent someone to risk his life in Driscoll just to look for a uniform for my wife?"
"I didn't say he sent anyone. He went and looked for it personally. And not just in Driscoll. First, he was at Elysia. Glaive base camp for a month in 749. And before that in Hereford."
Gladio couldn't believe it. "Oh, for the Six."
"Don't tell Silia. The Marshal said that the Captain of the Kingsglaives will need a uniform when the Chosen King returns."
"I won't tell Silia. But sometimes I think that, after all..."
"Gladio..." Monica interrupted him. Again that former smile peeked out, while she warned him with her forefinger. "You just married her. Enjoy it."
Sometimes he almost felt the third wheel, he had been about to tell her. Just then Silia, sitting between Carson and Ostium, caught his gaze and gave him a questioning look and a half smile. Gladio shook his head and smiled in turn. She was damn beautiful in that dress. Perhaps, after all, he would ask her to keep it on that night when they managed to go to bed.
It wouldn't happen anytime soon. No one intended to retreat, it seemed. All the children had fallen asleep on the benches, but the adults were wild. They drank, danced, sang and laughed. Not often did they all meet for happy events. Modestly, he had done good in insisting with Silia that their marriage should be celebrated and not simply recorded in Lestallum.
"It's amazing how we can still find opportunities to be happy in the most unthinkable circumstances," said Monica, almost reading his thoughts.
"Oh yeah," he smiled. "See how everyone's having fun."
Monica laughed. "I was talking about you. You have always been a handsome young man, Gladio, but tonight you are radiant. And Silia is unrecognizable. I'm not talking about the dress."
"That's the true Silia," he said, blushing again. "When you peel off the military education, the war life, the grief and the worries and the pressure to do more, all you've got is a loud gross teenager." And oh how much he loved her.
"Lieutenant Elshett?" It was Nick.
"Yes?" she asked politely.
"Forgive my cheekiness, but would you like to dance? Amicitia won't mind too much, I suppose. He just caught the Boss."
Gladio was convinced that Monica would have put him back in his place with extreme courtesy but also extreme decision, and instead she jumped down from the crate. "Gladly. But I have to warn you that I'm not very good at dancing, hm, what's your name again?"
"Vaillant. Nicholas Vaillant."
"Don't worry, Monica," Gladio winked. "Hardly good swordsmen are not good dancers as well."
At two in the morning, exhausted, Gladio reached Silia who was still laughing loudly with Carson and Bridger. Judging by the small crowd surrounding them, they must have just told a war story. A funny one, he hoped, and not one of those where someone met a bad end told in great detail. Her face was red, and there were at least a dozen empty bottles on the table. So much for her recommendation to limit the alchool.
"Here's the bridegroom!" Carson pointed out. His face was red as well. "He who defeated the Blademaster."
"He who tamed the Coeurl."
"Fuck you, Miles," she said.
"Amicitia," Libertus winked. "Do you know that in Galahd at the end of a wedding party, the guests strip the bride before taking her to bed and handing her over to her husband?"
"Don't even think about it," Gladio threatened him.
"And why should we do that?" Sadda added. "We all saw her naked. That of the separate locker rooms is a bourgeois finesse that didn't exist at the Training Facility, let alone in war."
"Traditions must be respected."
Gladio laughed. Among the Kingsglaives that kind of jokes was wasted, not just about Silia, and by then he had become used to it. "Look, I said it for you, Libertus. Let's not end a wedding party with a murder."
"Oh, you can swear it ends with a murder if you touch me, Libertus," Silia showed her teeth. "You're not Iris or Cestia. And we're not in Galahd, so I think I'll go to bed by myself. Very soon. Tomorrow I'll resume my usual routine, thank the Six."
Gladio winked to Libertus, Miles, and Balthier, grabbed Silia by her wrist and waist and carried her on his shoulder. He promptly blocked a kick by the prosthesis that would have blown his jaw. "Are you insane? Take it easy!" he yelled at her. Silia would make him pay very dearly the next day and the next week and probably also the next month, but never mind.
Silia tried again to kick him, but he held her leg. "Gladio, I'll kill you. What the fuck are you doing?"
"I've decided that I'll take you to bed. Without stripping you here."
"Gladio, don't you dare!"
"Tonight, I dare. You're not the Boss."
"Technically," Elea pointed out, touching the clock on her wrist, "midnight has passed."
"Don't be technical, Elea. 'Day' is an extremely questionable term, especially now that the sun no longer rises," Carson backed him, winking in his direction. "So Scientia still has the command scepter."
"You hear that?" he said to Silia, tightening the grip around her leg. "Let's go to bed, before I think of anything else I can do tonight."