It was just past nine, though it seemed it should have been the middle of the night. Regis tucked Reina and Noctis into their respective beds, intending to stay at least until they fell asleep and perhaps longer. Before he had so much as sat down, however, his phone rang. Clarus. Checking in on him, as he always did.

He made his excuses and stepped away from his children to take the call. The call he should have made himself. But other matters had distracted him and still held his attention. He assured Clarus that he was hale and whole, but begged off a full appraisal of the situation until they could speak face to face. That would be several hours yet—likely not until past morning. Much as Regis wished to have a second opinion on what he had heard from Reina, he was loath to leave her unsupervised. If Ardyn Izunia could walk into a guarded room and sit down quietly while their attention was elsewhere, if he could vanish into darkness and shadows before their very eyes, what was to stop him from appearing in Reina and Noctis' room? Regis had blocked her Dreams, yes, but somehow that gave him only thin comfort. The man would find another way to get what he wanted. Somehow.

So, once Regis was through with Clarus on the phone, he returned to his children's bedside, pulling up a chair in his usual spot and sitting in the corner between their beds. Reina opened her eyes to peer at him through the dim glow of their starry night light, but he held a finger to his lips and silenced any words she might have. She snuggled deeper amongst her blankets, holding Chika tight against her chest, and shut her eyes with a smile. Simply knowing he was watching over her in the night brought her such satisfaction. If only it could have brought him the same.

As it were, his mind was a boiling stew of worries and confusion. Though their mission to Tenebrae was all but concluded successfully, he felt no contentment at this victory. It had been granted them. The chancellor had made that much clear with his cryptic words. They were no closer to learning what he wanted or why. Indeed, this choice threw every hypothesis out the window. By surrendering their hostages without cause, Niflheim gave up all leverage they held over Lucis and their spy within. Ravus would no longer report on the inner workings of the court—for whatever good that had done them—and they held no chain to pull with regard to this arranged wedding, though it was anyone's guess why they had wanted it in the first place.

The only explanation that presented itself was that none of this benefited Niflheim at all, and therefore it must not have been Niflheim that had made the choice to release Sylva and Lunafreya. It could only have been the chancellor acting alone. And why? Regis had once compared him to Hamon and again the analogy seemed apt. If he had no particular allegiance to Niflheim, but instead pursued his own agenda, these events made moderately more sense. They still had no notion what he wanted, but that he gained something by releasing Sylva and Lunafreya must have been true. So what had he gained?

Regis' attention, for one thing. He had clearly revealed himself, calling attention to the connection between him and Reina in a way that was almost a threat. Had he wanted to simply snare her, he might already have done so. Instead he had given Regis the opportunity to lock her away safely. Why? Had he simply underestimated Regis, expecting that he would not make it back to Lucis in time to safeguard her? Or something else entirely?

It was no use. All he gained from this speculation was a headache and an awareness of how very long this day had been. The clock on the wall told him it neared midnight now, yet he could not allow himself to sleep. He fixed his awareness, instead, on Reina. She slept peacefully with no indication of dreaming or attempting to sneak out from behind his walls. Did Izunia wait for her alongside the Black River? He had no way of knowing.

The light in the room brightened as the hall door opened a few inches further. Regis spun, hand nearly on the hilt of his sword before he stopped himself. Crea. It was only Crea. Had he really expected the chancellor?

"I thought I might find you here," she whispered.

"And why is that?"

"You always come to sit with them when anything is troubling you."

And he always had, for twelve too-short years. Though in the first years, it had mostly been thoughts of Aulea that had driven him to seek refuge in the nursery among his twins and Crea. Though he had little realized it then, Crea had always offered some measure of comfort to him as well, whether by words or presence.

"Can I offer you a cup of tea, if you're going to sit up all night?"

Regis shook his head, staring at Reina's sleeping form. "I dare not take my eyes off them."

A pause. Crea had come to stand quite close to his chair. Near enough that he could smell the scent of her lotion and shampoo. Near enough that he remembered the night not so long ago, just outside in the hall, when he had been granted one tantalizing kiss. One kiss in eight years. He nearly did take his eyes off Reina.

"Is she in danger?" Crea asked.

He could only shake his head again. "I know not. Which makes it all the more unbearable."

That she wanted to know more was clear enough from her silence. As was the fact that this was a poor place for a conversation. Perhaps later he would find time to tell her the tale. It was always later with him.

At length she grew tired of waiting for answers and left without a word. He fought the urge to turn and watch her go or, worse yet, stop her from doing so. It was the middle of the night. She needed to be abed. He only wished he had something else to say to her. Or some place to say it in.

Ten minutes later she was back, against his expectations. She handed him a steaming mug of tea with a cute chocobo floating in it. Before he had properly registered what was happening, she had pulled up a second chair beside his and folded herself into it. He did tear his eyes from Reina, then. When he looked, she gave him a smile over the top of her own tea and laid her hand over his.

Her touch alone sent chills running up and down Regis' spine. He turned his hand and enclosed hers, holding on as tightly as if she were his only anchor in this storm. Sometimes she felt like it. She squeezed his hand in return and allowed him to crush her fingers as tightly as he pleased. It was the only show of weakness he allowed himself.

The night passed in silence, save for the ubiquitous sound of the storm outside: the sheets of rain that pounded against the glass and the shattering sounds of thunder. Against his will, Regis found his mind wandering to the brief respite on the ocean, less than twenty four hours before. He missed the dawn all the more for having seen it once. If only they could have fled from this dreary place into drier, brighter lands. Just the four of them, for once.

By the time the sky outside paled in what passed for dawn these days, Crea had fallen asleep curled up in her chair. She had leaned close enough to him that her head rested on his shoulder. He dared not move, for fear of disturbing her. Or for fear of reminding himself how near the line they walked was growing once more.

Before the twins had stirred, footsteps sounded outside the door. They sat with their backs to the hall, sheltered in their own private world by the tall-backed chairs. But not for long. Someone would come looking for him and would find him here, with the woman who was meant to be nothing more than a nanny to him.

"Crea," Regis murmured.

The footsteps passed by the door, but stopped not far down the hall. A knock sounded on his own door.

"I need you to wake up, Crea." He touched her cheek lightly. Her skin was soft and warm. Against his better judgement he caressed her skin, intoxicated by her nearness.

She stirred, tensing beside him with a sound of objection. "What'sa matter?"

For a moment he forgot why he had woken her. He was only aware that he could so easily have stolen a kiss while they sat sheltered in this fragile bubble of solitude. And then he would have wished for another. And another.

The knock on his door sounded again.

"Your Majesty?" Avunculus called from down the hall. "The team from Tenebrae has returned."

And the outside world came back to him.

"My duty summons me forth," Regis said.

She blinked twice and sat up with an effort. Her hair had come free from its bun and hung in tangled locks around her face and shoulders. She yawned and stretched.

"What about Reina?" She asked.

Reina and Noctis both slept on, blissfully unaware of the vigil their father had kept for them. On the surface and underneath, nothing was changed. Regis' walls remained intact. They had not even been tested in the night. That was some clue, but he was too tired to think what it meant for now.

"She seems unharmed," Regis said. "Wake her, all the same. For reasons that have very little to do with logic, I fear to allow her to sleep beyond my watch."

"You're going to have to sleep some time, you know."

"When I die, likely." Then he might have time for it.

She gave him a flatly unamused look. Down the hall, Avun opened the doors to his rooms and called out again.

"You'd better go. I'll wake Reina." Crea stood and stretched. She stepped past him and laid a hand on Reina's shoulder to gently rouse her.

Reluctant as he was to pull away from his family, he did. The others would be waiting. And Avun was liable to send the whole Crownsguard out looking for him if he couldn't be found in his rooms. It was best to avoid all that.

He straightened his suit, aware that he had been wearing it for more than a full day, by now, and that it was more than a little of both stale and wrinkled. Never mind that now. He stepped into the hall and called out for his attendant.

"I am here, Avun."

"Oh, Your Majesty! Thank the Astrals—"

Regis lifted a hand to stem the flow of relief. "The others are waiting downstairs?"

"They are, Sire. In the drawing room."

Not all of them, he hoped, given that some three dozen Kingsglaives had gone to Tenebrae with them.

"Summon Prince Ravus to the drawing room. I will go at once," Regis said.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

It promised to be an emotional day, between reunions, questionable escapes, and all. It also promised to be an exhausting one. Perhaps some had managed a few hours rest on the boat, but he doubted it very much. His retinue were not ones to let down their guard while surrounded by unanswered questions.

As Avun had indicated, he found the others awaiting him in the drawing room below. Or some of them, at least. The vast majority of the Kingsglaive had been dismissed, as was for the best, and returned to their own headquarters. Of the Glaive, only Captain Ulric remained. He rose and bowed when Regis entered the room. The others were less wont to stand on ceremony: Clarus scooped him up into a bone-crushing bear hug, Cid shook his head, Wes laughed, and Cor stood leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Lunafreya sat tucked in an armchair, which looked much too large for her. Sylva stood beside it, and though she offered a curtsey at Regis' entrance, she seemed at a loss for what to do with herself. She would be. Likely she had no more answers than they had, and it had been a confusing twenty-four hours. For everyone.

"How fares Her Highness?" Weskham asked, once Clarus had released Regis.

"Fine, as far as my senses can discern," Regis said.

"You suspect otherwise?" Clarus asked.

Regis shook his head. "I know not what I expect. Everything we have ever known of Niflheim seems to have been proven wrong in the past twenty four hours. Who is this man Ardyn Izunia? Truly? Or shall I say what is he?"

"'What' seems apt," Clarus said darkly.

When a knock sounded to the door, he was spared dwelling on troubling thoughts for a moment longer at least.

"Prince Ravus Nox Fleuret," the Crownsguard at the door announced, opening the doors wide for him.

Lunafreya leapt to her feet. They hardly saw Ravus before she had flung herself into his arms. He caught her neatly, dropping to his knees and enveloping her in his arms.

"Ravus." Her voice was muffled against his chest. Four years might have added to her dignity, but not when she was so relieved to be reunited with her brother. "You're safe!"

"As are you." He kissed her hair and held her all the more tightly.

"Thank the Gods," said Sylva, who had not moved from her place by Luna's chair, though she had made a motion as if to do so and stopped herself.

"No." Ravus looked up at her, then turned his gaze on Regis. "Thank King Regis. For he is the one who kept me safe and rescued you from Niflheim's clutches. Not the Gods."

"Ravus," Sylva chided. "You will not blaspheme in the house of Lucis."

"Blaspheme all you want," Regis said darkly. "I certainly have."

He glanced out the window at the angry storm. And people were paying for it across his kingdom, but he could not turn away from this path. He would not.

He looked back to Sylva. "This is my castle, Sylva. Not yours. And some days I wonder if Ravus isn't nearer to my son than yours."

Sylva looked as if he had struck her. Even Lunafreya looked between Regis, Sylva, and Ravus, as if he had snatched up something that belonged to her from beneath her nose. But Ravus rose to his full height, releasing all but Lunafreya's hands, and something of a smile settled onto his lips.

"In a few weeks, I suppose he will be," Regis said.

"You don't intend to call it off?" Ravus asked.

"Why should I?"

"I only thought… since my mother and sister are here, you have no reason to do as Niflheim wishes…"

"No, I do not," Regis agreed. "But I do have reason to do as my daughter wishes. Perhaps this is a conversation we should have more privately, but provided that you have no objections to going through with the betrothal, I see no reason to call it off."

A mixture of emotions fought across his face. Perhaps it was cruel of Regis to throw him into this situation, but unexpected developments were often the best way to learn what was truly in a man's heart. Foremost on Ravus' face was surprise. That was to be expected. And though others fought for control—fear, trepidation, nervousness—there was joy and gratitude as well. In the end, that won out.

"Of course I have no objections! Niflheim notwithstanding, I should be honored to have such a match." A blush flashed hot across his cheeks, and for the first time since his arrival, Regis had the sense that he did see in Reina more than a little sister. She was growing up quickly. In both their eyes, it would seem, albeit in different ways.

"Ravus, you cannot be serious," Sylva said. "Princess Reina is much too young for you. I'm astounded that Regis would even consider such a match. She is barely a child and you are nearly a man."

That the description nettled him was clear enough. To his credit he did not rise to the bait, instead focusing on Reina.

"She is young, Mother. That much is true. But you have not seen her in four years and hardly even then. She has never been a child. She has always been far older than her years, and only now she begins to grow into it. I have no doubt you will be convinced of this when you see her with your own eyes. And if not…" He glanced toward Regis, as if seeking assurance. Whatever he searched for he must have found, for he added, "And if not, it doesn't matter. The decision has been made, and it doesn't concern you."

Only decades of control gave Regis the willpower he required not to smile. First at Ravus' show of will against his mother, and second at Sylva utter shock. He did permit himself a minuscule nod of approval when Ravus met his gaze. It was enough.

"I will gladly be engaged to Princess Reina, as planned," Ravus said.

A knock sounded on the door once more. This time Avunculus entered. "Pardon the intrusion, Your Majesty, but Miss Crea suggested that caffeine might be welcome this morning?"

At the word 'caffeine,' Clarus perked up and peered around the door. Avunculus stepped aside and motioned to the servants behind him, who bore trays of tea and coffee.

"Most welcome, thank you, Avun," Regis said. "And you may pass our thanks to Crea."

No sooner had the servants set the trays down that Clarus was filling a cup of espresso to the brim. "Bless that woman. And here I thought her expertise was focused on your children."

"She is uncommonly insightful." Weskham helped himself to the espresso, once Clarus had stepped aside. "A singular woman in all regards."

"Like you, Wes?" Cor growled. "Reading people's minds by looking at them? You'd make a great couple."

Weskham looked at Regis, who avoided his gaze. "I'm afraid that's out of the question. Even if I was of a mind to, she's got her heart set. It isn't going anywhere."

So she had told him when Weskham had returned. So she had promised him in a quiet hallway with a kiss on the cheek.

Regis accepted a cup of tea from Weskham and took a seat in the farther armchair from Sylva. "Enough. This is not a topic for casual discussion."

Ravus was looking around the room with the shock of revelation on his face. Lunafreya and Sylva, at least, were far enough removed from Regis' court to have no notion of what they were talking about. He hoped to keep it that way. Sylva had passed judgement already on enough things in his life. Gods forbid he give her more fodder.

And yet, once they had been friends.

He met her gaze across the drawing room. It was only now he noticed that she watched him with pleading in her eyes. They had been friends for much longer than they had been enemies. If that was what this was. Certainly, they were at odds. Had her new experiences at Niflheim's hands given her new insight into the world? Would she look at the storm that plagued Lucis and say it was the will of the Gods, that he should fall into line as the Draconian wished? Would she refuse to treat the plague that spread among the Outlands because it was the Astrals' punishment for his disobedience?

So many matters to be settled between them. Yet this was neither the time nor the place.

"Clarus," Regis said. "Report. I would know everything that occurred after my departure."

There was, as it turned out, little to report. The night had been quiet. They had sighted daemons in the forest, as they were wont to these days, but nothing to present difficulty to three dozen Kingsglaives. They had reached the boat without much incident and returned to the storm clouds of Lucis, seeing nothing more of the imperial chancellor along the way.

So he had vanished without a trace. And they were no nearer to learning his true purpose.

"Can any of you shed light on this man?" Regis asked, turning his gaze toward the Nox Fleurets, who had notably sat close together, save Ravus who sat apart from them on a sofa nearer to Regis than Sylva.

"Until two days ago, we believed the same as you," Sylva said. "That the imperial chancellor worked beneath the emperor and had taken over Tenebrae to give them leverage over Lucis."

"What changed?" Regis asked.

"You witnessed yourself. He emptied the castle from top to bottom. Our staff and guards were thrown out. Even the imperials cleared away from Fenestala. We were led through our own empty halls by a handful of Magitek soldiers to the cellar—where you found us. The chancellor instructed them to close us down there, but he told them not to lock the doors. He said you would be coming for us and that there was no point barring the way with lock and key."

"And yet he led us on a wild goose chase, nevertheless," Clarus said. "If he meant to hand you over, why would he do that?"

"I'm only guessing," Ravus said, "But if I know anything of the imperial chancellor, it is that he likes his games. He likely thought it great fun to watch you search the empty castle from top to bottom before finding anyone at all."

"He wasn't even there," Cor said.

"He must have been, in some fashion," Regis said. "Else he wouldn't have known when to appear. Or are you suggesting that he had been in that room all along, and that we simply missed him when searching?"

Cor shook his head. "That's above my pay grade."

"Indeed," Regis said. If only he could use such a convenient excuse to stop worrying about things.

"Forgive the question, Lady Oracle," Weskham said, "But did you witness any unnatural behavior from the chancellor before last night?"

"If you mean 'unnatural' in the way of 'inhuman,' then no, I don't believe we did. He is a disturbed man, that much is clear in the way he acts. But before today—pardon, last night—I never had cause to suspect he might be anything besides that."

"You say 'inhuman' and imply he might be something besides a man," Weskham said, "What else would he be?"

Sylva caught Regis' eye across the room. They were miles apart and yet somehow on the same wavelength in this respect. He couldn't convince her that children weren't to be used or discarded, but both their minds had come to the same place on the question of Ardyn Izunia.

"A daemon," Regis said. Sylva nodded.

"We have watched him manipulate darkness and disappear as daemons are wont to do," he continued. "Before yesterday, the thought never would have crossed my mind. But in light of unanswered questions, we must search in unlikely places."

"Is that even possible?" Cor asked. "Daemons are mindless beasts. It might be a stretch to say Izunia retains his sanity, but he's certainly clever. A daemon doesn't scheme."

"Don't be too sure about that, boy," Cid said. "You ain't seen what the Starscourge does to folks. Strips 'em apart from the inside, sure. Makes 'em do things they'd never even think about in nightmares. But their brain's still alive behind those dead eyes."

He spoke as one from experience. And as the only person to have lived outside the Wall in the last thirty years, while the Starscourge was becoming an ever more prevalent problem, he was probably the only one among them to have such experience. A disturbing thought. One which Regis would have preferred not to explore. Nevertheless, it seemed their only avenue.

"Are you implying that the chancellor might have the scourge?" Regis asked.

Cid shrugged. "Possible."

Regis looked again to Sylva. She had spent months living under his rule and many more than that treating the sick and corrupted. If anyone could draw a parallel between the two, it was her.

She shook her head slowly. "I do not think the chancellor is ill. There is a dulling of senses that occurs along with the corruption, which he has never displayed. But your suggestion has merit. Though I gave it little thought before now, the feel of him is wrong. I know not how, but I suspect it is dangerous."

"I believe this goes well beyond ill," Regis said. "We have already established he seems as much daemon as he does man. If Starscourge corruption plays a part in his tale, it has already reached the end stages of corruption."

"But that's impossible," Sylva objected. "He is so outwardly human. No one could retain so much of themselves so late in the throes of the scourge."

"Unless he had untold powers to begin with," Regis said. "Caelum magic grants immunity to the scourge. Why? Presumably because we hold some sway over it, at least within our own bodies, even if we cannot banish it from others. What if a man gifted with some sort of magic was somehow infected with the scourge? He would be unable to cleanse it from his own body, but still hold enough sway over the corruption to prevent himself from being lost to it."

"Are you suggesting that Izunia holds Caelum magic?" Clarus asked.

"He holds some magic," Regis said, "We know this. If it were of the Oracle line, he would be able to cleanse the scourge. Unless there are other gifted bloodlines on Eos, I see no other options. We know nothing of this man or his origins. Is it so impossible that he is of royal blood?"

They had scraped dozens of distant royals from Lucis alone—and dozens more had been cast out for disloyalty. Was it so unreasonable that one royal had reached Niflheim?

"The magic you speak of comes from the scourge," Sylva said. "It is not true magic, but darkness."

"No," Regis said. "I do not mean his display from yesterday."

He looked to Clarus. Of those assembled, only he and Cor were intimately acquainted with Reina's magic. Weskham and Cid had both been away too long. Though they had heard of it since returning, it was but a distant tale to them. A little girl who could dream the future. Preposterous.

On the other hand, Regis had intentionally withheld the information from the Nox Fleurets for various reasons. Ravus because he was in the hands of the empire and they could not afford this gift reaching Niflheim's ears. That point seemed insignificant now. Not only was the imperial leverage against Ravus all used up, Izunia already knew their secret. As for Sylva, Regis had shared his suspicions about Reina's magic with her. Once. And in return he had received Sylva's belief that it was all wishful thinking and that Reina, as the second child, could never amount to anything of importance.

Well. It had saved her life and her kingdom. Perhaps that mattered little to her in the grand scheme of the prophecy. But it had saved countless other lives as well and Regis had every confidence that it would save Noctis' and dispel the ridiculous prophecy of the gods.

"I know for certain that he walks in the In-Between. For he has approached Reina while she dreamed and promised to teach her more of her unusual magic. As you can imagine, she was very tempted by this offer. I believe I have managed to prevent any further contact for the moment. But the fact remains that this is not a task any simple man could accomplish. And it is also the case that, if not Niflheim, at least Ardyn Izunia knows of Reina's magic."

"What magic?" Ravus asked.

"The ability to see the future," Regis said.

This revelation produced a stunned silence from the Nox Fleurets. Sylva looked away, as one who wishes not to be associated with a madman and his embarrassing ideas. Ravus looked merely perplexed. But it was Lunafreya who broke the silence.

"But that's impossible," she said. "Forgive me, King Regis, but only Oracles are gifted with foresight and even then only when the Astrals grant us a glimpse of their plans, so that we might better guide mankind."

"I suspect that what the Astrals feed you is precisely what they wish you to see and nothing more. My daughter, on the other hand, sees the future, in all its depth, precisely as it may occur. If you wish for proof that her Dreams are true, you need look no farther than this room. That we are all sitting here is possible only because she Dreamed of Magitek soldiers falling from the sky in Tenebrae four years ago, and so we fled, leaving you warning that the empire was coming. As soon as we were gone, her nightmares ceased… and the empire arrived in Tenebrae, did it not?"

Lunafreya, having no answer for this, looked to the one source of authority in her life. Her mother. Sylva lifted her eyes to meet Regis', though only reluctantly.

"We spoke of this before, Regis," she said slowly, as one who speaks to an unreasonable child.

"And if the fact that you are alive is not proof enough that I was correct, then I have many other instances where many other lives have been saved on nothing but Reina's Dreams. But it is not my task to convince an indoctrinated cultist that the titans she still worships are false prophets and no less manipulative or evil than the empire. I did not bring you here to discuss the reality of my daughter's magic with you. Nor will I stand for your condescending platitudes. You stand in Lucis by my grace. Mind you keep a civil tongue in your head, lest I change my mind."

Again, silence fell. Regis was aware he had lost his temper at her once more, but had no inclination to make amends. How dare she come into his home and tell him that the girl who had saved her life was merely a figment of his imagination.

Ravus cleared his throat and shifted along the sofa, distancing himself further from his mother. "I have a question, if I may, King Regis."

Regis indicated that he might.

"If Princess Reina can see the future, why did she not tell me my family would be alright?"

"She tried," Regis said. "She knew you worried for them and wished to Dream their fate to set your mind at ease. But she does not have full control over this sight, and she struggles to see clearly anything that does not directly affect her. She could not find a moment in time to look at that would tell her definitively if your family would be alright. But aside from that, she acted under strict orders from me not to breathe a word of her magic to you. Forgive me, Prince Ravus, but I dared no whisper of her gift reach the empire."

"That would be deadly indeed," Ravus admitted. "But they know it now, don't they?"

"I have no notion," Regis said. "The chancellor's actions seem not to benefit the empire. It is not so far fetched to suspect he now acts independently. Nevertheless, we must be cautious."

"Regardless of whether or not they know, the chancellor seems a greater threat," Clarus said. "Niflheim cannot very well walk into Lucis and threaten the princess. If they could, we would have greater problems than whether or not they know of her magic. The chancellor, however, seems able to walk where he wishes. Her dreams included."

And so they had come full circle to Regis' deepest worries. Had anything been decided? He couldn't recall. And his tea was empty.