For what remained of the afternoon and evening, they remained closed up in Regis' rooms, discussing history, lore, and strategy. Past tea, Clarus and Weskham arrived to add their minds to the mix. It was not until Avunculus knocked on the door to ask if the king meant to take dinner with his family that Regis realized the better part of the day had slipped away without his notice. He had eaten breakfast, he recalled, but now that dinner was brought to his attention he found he was famished.

They tabled their discussion. Usually Clarus left the Citadel to dine with his own family, but tonight it was understood they were not likely to have an early night. There was much yet to be done. As such, when Regis extended the invitation, both Clarus and Weskham accepted. The dining table was expanded to include spaces for not just the Caelums and the Fleurets, but Clarus and Weskham as well.

It was a strange mixture of emotions, sat around Regis' table that evening. Tension emanated from Ravus; though he remained primarily locked in quiet conversation with Reina, his eyes strayed occasionally to his mother. Noctis was overjoyed, oblivious to most everything else, save the presence of Lunafreya, and yet there was a renewed bashfulness about him. Four years ago the difference in their ages had not seemed so stark. But at sixteen, Lunafreya was undoubtedly a young woman and Noctis was still very much a young boy.

As for Sylva, the tension still remained between them, although it had thawed and been replaced by something less sharp. Something he had no name for. She observed Reina, as he had requested she do, with more curiosity than scrutiny. And Reina played the part of a Princess—not his little girl in chocobo pajamas, but a girl growing to adulthood who, every so often, had a distant look in her eyes, which made her seem much older than her twelve years of age. Halfway through the meal, Sylva caught Regis' eye and gave him a single nod. She had seen a glimpse, perhaps, of what he had known to be there for four years.

After dinner, Regis retired once more to his sitting room with Sylva, Wes, and Clarus, leaving the children—if they could all still be called that—to do what children will do. Talk stretched on for some time longer.

"It goes without saying that you will not be able to accompany Sylva this time, Regis," Clarus noted. "As much as it may do your people good to have sight of their king, and as much as you may want to see these issues up close, I believe we need you present in the capital far too much for that."

"I agree," Regis said. From the look on Clarus' face, he had expected an argument. "There is too much occurring right now, and I should not like to leave Reina unsupervised when we know so little about The Burgundy Man."

It almost seemed more fitting to call him by her name, rather than 'the chancellor' or 'Ardyn Izunia.' Whether or not Ardyn was truly his name remained to be seen—and Cor had assured them that his operatives in Niflheim were already looking into the matter—but it was clear that he was not who they believed him to be. An enigmatic man who walked through a young girl's dreams. Was the chancellor merely a part he played?

"I should like to take Lunafreya with me," Sylva said.

"I see no reason not to," Clarus said. "She seems a capable young woman. And you say she has training in your magic?"

"She does," Sylva confirmed. "She will be a great help to me on my tour of Lucis, and this will serve as an excellent learning opportunity for her."

"There still remains the problem of transportation," Regis said. "Most of our roads are washed out. You may have to travel by boat or even on foot through treacherous paths."

All while the rains continued. It was not an encouraging thought, and the possibility that both Oracle and daughter would be washed away in a landslide while treating the Lucian ill was a very real one.

"If we have no other options, then that is what we will do," she said. "We can hardly ask the afflicted to come to us. They will have less chance than we do to pass through dangerous waters."

A fair enough point, though the question of efficiency was not one to be overlooked. Still. Sylva had her mind set on this path and had that look in her eye that said he would not be able to change her mind. So be it.

"Perhaps we can spare some Glaives?" Clarus suggested.

"I believe we shall have to. If not for practical considerations, it would hardly do for such an auspicious guest to be seen touring Lucis without a royal guard," Regis said.

"Incidentally," Weskham broke in, "The court is clamoring for an explanation for the Oracle's presence in Lucis. Conclusions have already been leapt to, as you can imagine. People are assuming she's here for the betrothal ceremony?"

"That will do as an explanation for now," Regis said. "Though invariably we will need a more long-term solution in time. I leave that in your capable hands."

Weskham bowed his head. "As you wish, Sire."

"The sooner we can arrange this tour, the better," Regis said. "Clarus, send word to Captain Ulric. I want him to hand pick half a dozen Glaives to attend Sylva and Lunafreya on their journey. Their transportation will do."

"Until it doesn't," Clarus said.

"At which point, ingenuity and hard work will have to suffice," Regis said. "Weskham, I leave the public-facing details to you. Sylva, any preparations you and Lunafreya must make before departure should be seen to as soon as possible. You will have attendants to handle errands within the castle for you. If there is nothing else, I suggest we all retire for the evening."

With no more ceremony than that, they did so. It was a relief to have a moment of quiet in what had been a hectic day, but he could not allow himself a true reprieve. His children awaited. He left his rooms after the others had dispersed and made his way down the hall to the twins' bedroom. He found them tucked into their beds, but still awake and awaiting him. Instead of a bedtime story, he sat and reconnected with them, as he had not had the chance to do over dinner while they hosted so many guests.

Once again, he reiterated his desire that Reina refrain from Dreaming; thus far he had yet to loosen his hold on the walls that protected her. To do so stunted her vision and otherworldly senses, but it was better they be blind to the future than have an unknown enemy inside her head.

When at last both Reina and Noctis had fallen asleep, Regis settled himself for another long night in the chair at their beside. Until Crea appeared, in any case.

"You can't really mean to do this every night," she whispered, coming to stand beside his chair.

He held a finger to his lips, indicating the sleeping children. He glanced over his shoulder. The door to the hall was still cracked open, but Crownsguards stood outside and they could hardly speak candidly in front of others. Besides that door, two others led out from the bedroom: one to the bathroom, no longer decorated with cute little chocobos but becoming more austere with age, and the other to what had once been dining room for toddling twins but had eventually transformed into a playroom once they began using the dining hall downstairs with Regis. Over the years, the contents had changed, but the purpose was more or less the same. It would do for a quiet conversation.

Regis nodded in the direction of the second door, but did not immediately follow when Crea moved in that direction. He rose and watched the peaceful slumber of his children for a few moments. They had guards in every conceivable corner of the castle and yet Regis still feared for their safety. This foe was not one to be engaged with a blade. Certainly not one of steel, in any case.

He wrapped a strand of awareness around Reina. The barriers he had put around her held strong and to his senses nothing outside had given them any thorough inspection or testing. He didn't need to be near her to be aware of her. But he preferred to be. Just in case.

That done, he pulled himself away and followed Crea out of the room. He left the door ajar behind him and flicked on the lights. The room held an arrangement of sofas and chairs arranged around a television, a selection of books neatly stowed in a bookshelf, an elaborate dollhouse with occupants all abed, and several shelves full of toys—from figurines and plushes to cars to plastic swords. The days of noisy frog toys were well behind them.

Crea stood in the middle of it all, arms folded, staring at him. "If you insist on staying up all night you're going to have to sleep during the day."

"I did. As I believe you know."

"An hour nap does not a full night's sleep make," she said. "If your afternoon activities are any clue, you're planning something big and you're going to need your strength. Don't even get me started on the long and short term effects of lack of sleep."

Regis smiled ruefully, even in the face of her ire. He seated himself on the sofa, which felt substantially better than standing. His muscles ached, in spite of the bath.

"I'm sure I have experienced them all, by this point in my life."

He suspected, once the words had left his mouth, that this had been the wrong thing to say. She pursed her lips, no hint of her usual smile on her face.

"Then I'll stay up with you," she said.

"Crea, you know you cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"Barring the obvious, that you need your rest—"

"So do you."

"—It is in poor form that you spent even one night here with me. You know full well how rapidly talk spreads in the Citadel."

"And they'll say what? That we're having sex in Reina and Noctis' bedroom while they're sleeping?" She asked dryly.

"It matters very little what they believe. More important is that we were both seen to spend all night in their room. Either one of us might make sense. But not both of us," Regis said.

"What if I didn't care?" She asked, the words too quiet for the question.

Regis was too caught off guard to respond immediately. There was something behind the annoyance on her face that he couldn't quite place.

"It only leads to where we have already been," he managed at length.

She turned away from him. In the tension of her body he could read nothing of her thoughts. For a moment he thought she would walk away and leave him, and a mad part of his mind raised the impulse to grab her and tell her he didn't care what the staff thought either. He suppressed the urge. Barely.

She didn't leave. After a moment, she did speak.

"I met Sylva Nox Fleuret," she said with an effort.

"So I gathered," Regis said. "She is a difficult person to get along with."

"Is she?" Crea turned around to look at him, and something like accusation was written on her face. "Because she suggested you used to get along very well."

Regis' mouth went dry. Somehow they had ended up here, from the mad impulse to do something rash together. Yet there was no point denying it.

"Several lifetimes ago," Regis said. "When I was a young prince and she was not so set in her ways."

"I thought you and Aulea were childhood friends," Crea said.

"We were. I had known her since we were five or six, I believe. But, as you know, young boys are often foolish and incapable of seeing what is right before their nose."

"Grown men, too," Crea said.

Regis smiled bitterly. "We see very well. We merely deliberate over it more."

"So. Prince Regis and the Oracle," Crea mused.

"She was not the Oracle, at the time," he said. "But yes, we were together on and off for several months at least… perhaps a year."

"What happened?"

"I returned home from a young man's adventures and realized… well, I realized many things. But foremost among them is that I realized Aulea loved me and I loved her. And those feelings were far greater and deeper than anything I had felt for Sylva."

"If things had turned out differently for us… would you have gone back to her after Aulea's death?" Crea asked.

"I cannot say for certain, though I suppose it is possible," Regis said. When Sylva had come to Lucis after Crea had left, a part of him had remembered those months. But he had been too pained to think of any other than Crea. "But one thing is certain. If I had, she would be dead and Noctis would be doomed to follow."

"Why?"

In short order he recounted the tale of what had occurred in Tenebrae four years previously: his misplaced confidence in Sylva as he had shared his suspicions of Reina's magic and her subsequent denial that any such thing could be possible or significant.

"Had I loved her, I would have listened to her. Reina's Dreams would have gone disregarded and we would not have realized until too late that they were true."

"Ironic." Crea turned toward the window, hugging her arms. "I think you could have been happy with her."

"Do you indeed?" Regis asked more sharply than he had intended.

Whether she noticed his tone or not, she only responded to his words. "She clearly knows what it takes to be a queen."

"She has been doing so her entire life," Regis said. "But it takes more than that to make happiness."

"If you let yourself be happy with her…"

Pieces clicked into place. This conversation was not the arbitrary, wandering thing he had initially perceived it to be. No idle curiosity drove her questions, but a painful jealousy. He knew the sensation too well for comfort.

"I see," he said. "And it is as simple as that? Simply decide to love another and allow myself to be happy with them? Tell me, Crea. How well did that work out for you?"

Her mouth fell open. She flushed and looked away from him, picking at one of her nails.

"I'm sorry. That was stupid," she said.

Regis pushed himself to his feet and went to her. He took her in his arms. He shouldn't have, but this talk was slowly wearing away at what little self control he maintained throughout exhaustion.

"No. It was not stupid." He rested his cheek against her head and held her as a tremble ran through her body. "It was understandable. As one who has wondered much the same thing, I can only give you the assurance you have given me, for whatever faint comfort it might offer: I love you, Crea. And for what it is worth, Sylva has not crossed my mind in many years, except in ill favor. And she should be more jealous of you than vice versa."

She was quiet for some time, turning against him and resting her head on his chest. When at last she did speak, it was muffled and quiet. He strained to hear her words.

"It helps, I think. Less than it should. Or more than it should. Knowing no one else will have you doesn't make me happy."

"I know."

And here they stood, in a barely secluded playroom off Reina and Noctis' bedroom, in quiet conversation about forbidden things. He couldn't find the will in him to care about what should or should not have been. But…

"You should be in bed," he managed.

"So should you."

"We have been over this before."

"And I haven't changed my mind," she said.

"You are as stubborn as I."

"Please," she said. "No one is that stubborn."

She looked up at him and he caught the hint of a smile on her lips, which he returned.

"Very well, Miss Crea," he said. "I can see you won't be dissuaded."

His consent, for what it was worth, put an end to discussion. A second chair was pulled up in the adjacent room between the twins' beds and they passed that night, for what Regis could remember of it, in much the same fashion as they had the night before, with one key difference. That night, he fell asleep.