In the end, they all accepted that no more progress would be made that morning. Not while they all ran on a sleepless night with so much still to be done in the day. Their makeshift council adjourned, each going their separate ways. Guest quarters were arranged for Sylva and Lunafreya, and they retired while everyone else left to attend to their various duties. Ravus took to Regis' side, stating a desire to speak with Reina.

While they walked, he spoke.

"I wished to apologize for my behavior, when last we spoke," Ravus said. "It was unworthy of me. You have done a great deal for my family already and I cannot begin to thank you for rescuing my mother and sister."

"Apology accepted," Regis said. "You need not thank me, in any case."

In truth, amidst all the other occurrences in Lucis and Tenebrae, he had all but forgotten that Ravus had spoken out of turn before.

"Well thank you for standing for me," Ravus said, "Against my mother."

"It seems there are few places I can put my feet that do not include standing against your mother," Regis said.

"I know what you mean." Ravus gave him a wry smile. "I'm glad they are both safe, and I'm pleased to see my sister again. But now I can't help but remember years in Fenestala spent avoiding her path and attempting to anticipate her whim outside of her sight so that she couldn't take issue with my existence. I'm only now realizing how peaceful it has been in Insomnia without her."

Regis laid a hand on his shoulder, suppressing a grimace. "I cannot very well send her back. But know that you are in my home, not hers. And I am thankful for your presence here. You bring depth to my family and joy to my Reina. We would no longer have it any other way."

He was rewarded with a true smile from Ravus. After that, they walked along in silence for a time, coming to reach the upper levels together, with no unneeded words passing between them. By then, the upper levels were awake with budding morning energy, despite the fact that lights were lit to make it seem day at all. Noctis was sitting in the lounge, waiting to go down for breakfast, and chatting with Ignis. Or, more accurately, Ignis was chatting to him while Noctis nodded along in silence. This tended to be how conversations with Noctis went. Crea sat nearby, dressed for a day of court and formality, but Reina was nowhere to be seen.

"Good morning, my son." Regis laid a hand on his head and ruffled Noctis' hair before recalling this was now unacceptable behavior for a growing prince. Noctis ducked away, making a sound of objection.

"Morning, Dad," he grumbled. "Morning, Ravus."

"Reina is not up?" Regis asked.

"She's getting dressed," Crea said.

"She takes forever," said Noctis.

Crea didn't both to hide her amusement. "Every bit a princess, I'm afraid. She's going to have to wake up earlier if she wants to spend so much time on her appearance in the mornings."

And to think that not so long ago, they had simply gone to breakfast in their pajamas and Reina had never thought a thing of it.

"Well it wouldn't take so long if someone would help me." Reina appeared in the doorway to the bedroom she shared with Noctis. Behind her came her shadow, Crowe. Reina was dressed, as was quickly becoming tradition for her, in a new dress, cut of flowing blue fabric that somehow made her look much older than twelve. Ethereal was the word. Her hair was pulled up pinned in a crown of braids. And unless he was very much mistaken, she was wearing a touch of color on her lips.

Regis was suddenly quite thankful that Noctis had no inclination to wear makeup. He never had to face the line between child—who did not wear makeup—and adult—who did—so clearly for Noctis. Yet here he was, facing it all the same.

"I'm not helping," Noctis said.

"Good," Reina said. "I don't want your help anyway. You'd probably set my hair on fire. Good morning, Father."

Her eyes came to land on him and he smiled in spite of himself. Until then, he hadn't realized a distinction had been drawn in his mind between princess and Princess. Reina was, and always would be, his little princess. The little girl who wore cute dresses and carried around a stuffed chocobo. The little girl who attended council meetings and court, but always sat on her father's lap and often fell asleep. But somewhere, between learning to Dream and striving to learn responsibility so she could be permitted back into those same meetings, between crushes and her very own retinue, she had become Princess Reina: the young woman who was learning the ins and outs of court and council, who had a Kingsglaive bodyguard, and who saw everything, even if she didn't know how to interpret it yet. And when her gaze landed on him, something like soft regret passed over her face.

"You didn't sleep," she said. It wasn't a question, as such.

Regis could only grimace, though he made an effort to transform it into a smile. "No, my dear. Pressing matters required that I remain awake."

"The Burgundy Man?"

"Quite so."

"I see." She looked as if she wished to say more, but took issue either with the time or the place or the company. Instead she tore her eyes away and looked to Ravus. Her smile blossomed brightly once more. She gave him a curtsey, as was proper. "Good Morning, Prince Ravus."

Ravus bowed in return. "Good Morning, Princess Reina."

Amidst their reunion, Regis recalled that he had not yet arranged one for Noctis and Lunafreya. It would have to be remedied. And soon, but not immediately. Lunafreya's night had doubtless been little more restful than Regis'. Eager as they must have been to see each other again, some sleep was in order first.

If only Regis could have said the same for his future.

Instead he stumbled downstairs with his family for breakfast, as thus far his meals for the day had included tea and little else. Ravus and Ignis both joined them. Crowe followed as far as the dining room and stood by the door at parade rest, somehow managing to stare dead ahead and still keep the princess as the focus of her sights. Regis was reminded of Cor. If Reina had in Crowe even a fraction of the loyalty and dedication that Cor possessed, she would be blessed indeed. And he could breathe a little more easily.

Breakfast was a cheerful affair, made electric by the fresh energy that bounced between Reina and Ravus. Noctis, once told that he would soon be seeing Lunafreya, was in similarly high spirits and a glimpse of his old self could be seen behind the quiet boy he had since become. Only Ignis appeared reserved. When Regis fell to observing him, he found that Ignis' eyes strayed more often than not toward Reina.

He knew jealousy well enough to recognize it on the face of another.

Oh dear. And she had no notion. She had turned her eyes elsewhere, falling into a new crush—which had become thrilling with the promise of an engagement—and Ignis had been left standing behind. Regis had no remedy for that. She was young, yet, and an engagement could still be broken off if, indeed, she came to realize that Ravus was not her heart's desire once she had grown into herself. But for now it was little surprise that Ravus had turned her head. Ignis would doubtless grow into a handsome young man one day, but for now he was still caught awkwardly in adolescence. And Ravus had come out the other side with the confidence and command of a prince.

It was a tiny note of discord in their otherwise lovely morning. And it was not a problem that could be solved, for all that Regis was accustomed to fitting solutions into troubles. This was the sort that required acceptance.

After breakfast they returned together upstairs and went their separate ways: Noctis and Ignis to find some distraction until such a time as Lunafreya was ready to receive visitors, Reina and Crowe to see to ceremony preparations—or rather, Reina to see to preparations and Crowe to see to Reina—and Ravus to check in with the Crownsguard for morning training. Regis was left alone with his troubles. And Crea, who might well have been counted among them.

He avoided her by pacing the halls, letting his feet move while thoughts of the imperial chancellor, whoever he truly was, worked through his mind. It was the best way he had found to think. This morning it seemed to do nothing. His mind was a buzzing blank of worries and apprehensions. He found himself dwelling on Reina and wondering if he oughtn't let her wander the Citadel at all. Could Crowe handle herself, if Izunia found some way to walk through shadows into the castle?

"Are you afraid that if you sit down, you'll fall asleep?"

Crea's voice broke him from confused and agitated thoughts. Regis stopped and turned to look at her; she was sitting in the main lounge with a book open in her hands. Now that he thought on it, he realized he had passed by her several times and, furthermore, that she had been watching him rather than her book. But she had interrupted his thoughts and now he couldn't recall what they had been at all.

Regis cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. What was the question?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "Do you think that if you sit down, you'll fall asleep?"

"I hadn't given it much thought before." But now that he did, he suspected she was right. The tea from that morning would only carry him so far.

"You could get some rest, you know," she said more gently. "Reina's awake. She's being looked after. Is there anything you can't do later, after you've had a chance to close your eyes?"

"There is doubtless something." He just couldn't think what that might be, at the moment.

The exasperated look came again. "Go to bed, Regis."

"I doubt I could sleep. Not in any restful fashion."

She sighed. "Must you make this so difficult? At least go have a bath and a change of clothes. I know you hate wearing the same suit two days in a row. You might as well look like you didn't stay up all night."

That seemed a reasonable enough suggestion, and one he could not find issue with. A bath and a change of clothes sounded refreshing. Perhaps he would feel less dead on his feet afterward. He went. Avun drew a bath for him and helped him out of his wrinkled suit. Once he had sunken neck-deep into the hot water, which pounded and soothed against muscles he hadn't even realized were sore, he began to have an inkling of Crea's plan.

"Avun."

Avunculus paused in his work of gathering up the laundry. "Sire?"

"Will you please tell Crea that she is a terrible person and I will never forgive her?"

To his credit, he didn't even look perplexed. "As you wish, Sire."

"Very good. Then you may go. I do not expect I shall have need of you for several hours."

With Avun gone, Regis leaned back in his bath and shut his eyes. He only dwelled on what a wicked person Crea was for a few moments before falling fast asleep.

When he woke, the water was lukewarm and there were voices drifting in from the hall. That he could hear them at all meant whatever discussion happening was heated, and yet he struggled to find the will to get out of the cold tub and return to whatever duty called. No one had knocked on his door, after all. If it was relevant to him, surely someone would have. And yet, raised voices in the hall outside his room were usually important.

He rose, albeit reluctantly. A rebellious part of him wished to quell whatever argument was happening by appearing in only a bath towel, but dignity won the argument and he dried off and took the time to change into a fresh suit. Once his hair was combed and his crown was in place, he stepped out into the hall and nearly ran into Crea. She stood with her back nearly against his door, facing Sylva and flanked by two highly uncomfortable Crownsguards. This he observed in the split second before his appearance provoked a reaction from both women.

"Regis!" Sylva said. "At last."

Crea spun. Where Sylva's face held satisfaction, hers was the picture of chagrin.

"Regis! I'm so sorry. I hope we didn't wake you."

"No. I suspect the cold water did that," he said. "Sylva, I believe I have made it clear that only my friends may call me Regis."

Petty, but he took some satisfaction at watching the shock and embarrassment cross her features. She glanced from Crea to him before bowing.

"I apologize, Your Majesty."

Now that the last vestiges of sleep were fading from his mind, he found himself wondering how she had even reached the upper levels, let alone found herself right outside the door to his chambers.

"Now," Regis said. "I gather my presence was sought?"

He fixed the question to Crea rather than Sylva. That he did so only nettled Sylva further, and he took some perverse satisfaction in that fact. He did so not to annoy Sylva, however, but simply because he trusted Crea's account rather more than hers.

"Lady Nox Fleuret—" Crea began.

"Queen," Sylva corrected.

"Of what? I was under the impression that the rest of Tenebrae had fallen," Crea said dryly.

Regis wasn't certain whether he should be amused, shocked, or impressed. He settled on a confusing mixture of all three, while struggling to keep his stoic composure.

While Sylva gaped at Crea, she continued. "Lady Nox Fleuret accompanied her daughter when Luna and Noct came upstairs. Being thus admitted, she requested an audience with you. As Avun is currently off duty, I requested that you not be disturbed. Her ladyship took issue with that."

"I apologize, Sire," Sylva said. "But am I correct in my surmise that this young woman is the nanny?"

She had such a black and white view of the world. Had it always been so and he had simply failed to see it before his white became her black?

"Crea is in charge of the care and education of Prince Noctis and Princess Reina. But she is also a dear friend." Regis raised his eyebrows at Sylva, daring her to take issue with this title. If it was categorization and rank she wished to dole out, then she would find herself at a loss.

If he hadn't known better, he might have said the look on Crea's face was smug.

Sylva sighed and cast her eyes down. Something on her face shifted, like a mask cracking and falling away. "I did not come here to cause offense, and yet I fear I have done nothing but. I only wished to speak with you earnestly, as we used to do. Is that no longer possible?"

Once they had been friends. There were few who had given him advice more trusted than hers—and that was the root of their troubles. But for the sake of what they had once shared, he could not deny such an earnest plea. He stepped aside and motioned her into his private sitting room. She entered as invited, eyes downcast, without looking at either him or Crea.

"Thank you, Crea," he said.

She looked as if she had more to say, but held her tongue. Instead she gave him a tight smile and turned away. He turned and followed Sylva into the sitting room, closing the doors behind him. He seated himself in his favorite armchair and motioned that she should do the same. He tried not to object to the fact that the seat she chose had once been Aulea's. No one sat in that chair anymore.

"Your people have been very hospitable," she said. "And I have not had the chance, yet, to thank you for your timely rescue of us. I dare not think what would have occurred had you and yours not come for us. Admittedly, I had not hoped that you would, given the circumstances under which we last parted."

"I did not come for your sake," Regis said evenly. "But for your son's."

"Yes, I know," she said. "He's very fond of you. I think he has found in you the father he never had."

"For my part, I am fond of him. Would that we had become closer long ago."

"I always wanted you to." She looked up at him and hazarded a wavering smile. "My children without a father and yours without a mother. For a time it seemed—"

She broke off mid-sentence and he dared not think what the implications of that statement were. It was not unheard of for kings and Oracles to grow very close indeed. History suggested that their bloodlines had intermingled more than once in generations past. Perhaps once the idea would not have been so obscene to him, but today it made his stomach roll.

"My children have a mother," he said. "She loves them as much as I do."

"Crea?"

"Crea," Regis confirmed. "She has saved all our lives many times over. I owe her a great deal."

"I see," she said, though he wasn't sure that she did. "In any case, lost opportunities and missed connections is not why I wanted to speak with you. I came to speak of fate."

She looked out the window, where Ramuh's storm raged ever on. For a long time she was silent, and Regis allowed the conversation to wallow rather than prompting her.

"Reina truly Dreamed the future in Tenebrae?" She asked, as if she didn't know the answer.

"Yes," Regis said. "And many other events as well."

"Will you tell me of her other Dreams?" She pulled her eyes from the storm and fixed her gaze on him instead.

"Four years have passed, Sylva. She has had a great many, and each time lives have been saved. But if it will satisfy your curiosity, I will recount some notable examples."

He did so for her benefit. Between Tenebrae and now, she had doubtless foreseen so many events that Regis had forgotten more than he recalled. But he remembered the imperial attack on Cape Shawe, the fire in the eastern warehouses, the death of his son on the throne, the beginning of Ramuh's storm and many others still. For good measure he added premonitions that had not been Dreams—her dislike of Drautos being foremost among them. When he was through, she sat in thoughtful silence for a long time. He did not interrupt her thoughts, but he did step outside to request that tea be brought for them. When he returned, she seemed to have gathered her thoughts.

"For what it is worth—which I expect is very little—I do believe you. I was wrong, of course, about your daughter. But you've known that all along."

"I have." Regis resumed his seat.

"All my life I have believed in fate as the Astrals' plan. And it is. But my fate, perhaps, was to burn with Tenebrae. As Oracle I wonder if I should not still be alive. But as a woman I spend each day with my daughter as a treasured moment and I wonder how my life—my survival—could possibly be wrong. Should not every person on Eos be given a fighting chance at life? Or would my death have bought the lives of many others?"

"I cannot see how it would," Regis said. "But I can see how your life might mean the difference between life or death for others."

"How?"

"My people are afflicted with the Starscourge. It spreads slowly, but the death toll is high nevertheless. With each death comes new daemons and with each daemon comes new darkness. If the Draconian is to be believed, this is the will of the Astrals. Fitting punishment for a king stepped out of line. That others should suffer for my insubordination is preposterous, however. So I ask you to stand with me. Stand against the Draconian. Heal my people. Do good with the life Reina had bought for you."

"As Oracle, it is my duty to tend to the sick and wounded."

"And to obey the will of the Gods?" Regis asked.

Her face fell. "I hardly know anymore."

"Then you must decide." For a moment he felt a flicker of pity for her. All of her life she had been little if not assured. She was certain of the path she walked, certain of the Gods' will, certain of her place in the game. Now it all came crashing down around her and Regis sat demanding that she take a side. Because he had started a war.

He sighed. "Do not think this was a simple decision for me. I wondered, as you do, if by doing good now I would only doom those that come after us. Will there be a world left behind for my children, or my children's children? I still do not see the full picture. You and I are doomed to see only the here and now while the rest of time fades away. But I trust my daughter. And I trust that not only are her intentions good, but her heart is true and her understanding of the situation is deep. Deeper, I daresay, than any twelve year old has a right possessing. I once marveled at young Lunafreya and her grasp of duty and destiny. Now I must see that for what it was: false confidence in a future that shall never come to pass. Reina has grown into a very different child. You will see her and judge for yourself, but if you think it odd that I would place my faith and trust in a child, recall that the world does the same for Noctis. The difference is that Reina understands, while Noctis has little notion of what this prophecy would have meant for him. It is but a scary story told of a future that will never pass. And I mean to see that it doesn't. Whatever it takes, my son will not die on the throne."

"Then how will you stop the darkness?" She asked.

"With light. And sight. Not death. Reina is confident that the future can be rewritten into one that satisfies my hopes. We need only trust in her."

"And defy the Gods," Sylva said.

"If that is the price for my son's life, then so be it. I should think you would want the same. Or are you so eager to sacrifice Lunafreya? Is she precious to you only because you see her life as fleeting?"

"No!" She denied his accusation, but doubt flickered across her face.

"No? You have neglected Ravus to her benefit. Because she will die? Or because her destiny is important and you revere her?"

"I never—" She stopped herself mid-denial and sat back in her chair, aghast.

"You may deny it aloud to me. But not to yourself," he said levelly. "It is time to face difficult truths, Sylva. And it is time to make a choice. Will you stand with me and heal my people? Or will you trust the mercy of the Gods, who would have seen you dead many times over if not for my daughter? We need your help. I cannot fight the Starscourge on my own and you are the only person with some knowledge of this plague and any ability to cure it."

Her head drooped forward, chin to chest, and she sat in unmoving silence for a long time. So long, in fact, that he began to fear that she would refuse. Would she truly submit herself and all that she loved to death, simply because the Gods said it must be so? Even when he offered her an alternative?

At long last she lifted her chin, straightened her back, and met his gaze. "What must I do?"