For the most part, in the aftermath of the Battle of Daemons, he slept. First he slept sitting upright on the floor with his head propped against the window. When the fight was through and there was nothing more to be seen from there, Reina and Noctis dragged him back to his bed, where all three of them slept through until morning. And then some.

They all woke sometime later, in what could still vaguely be considered morning, and were coerced into eating breakfast by Avun. Some information passed through him: What little of Niflheim's forces had not been defeated by the daemons had retreated. All three remaining Magitek cannons had been taken down in the process. Lucis' army and the Kingsglaive had both withdrawn before that time, and the casualty list was no longer than expected. The strangest thing about the tale, however, was not that the daemons had turned on their masters or that Lucis had somehow come away largely unscathed, but that after Niflheim had been dispatched, the daemons had simply left.

Regis' brain and body were both too tired to dwell for long on this news. After breakfast, he slept once more.

It was a fitful sleep. He half expected at any moment to be woken by a knife to his back. And yet Reina, who slept beside him throughout, seemed unaffected by his choice to lower her barriers. If Ardyn approached her in the In Between, Regis knew nothing of it—though he did endeavor to watch, in his semi-conscious state, as he drifted between true dreams and the black, dream-like realm of the In Between.

He saw Reina on a sunny riverbank. Grass grew in vibrant green beneath the azure sky, unveiled by any barrier. It might have been a lovely place for a picnic, were it not for the ominous black of the waters themselves. They roiled and bubbled in their banks, sweeping along and swallowing up anything that dared venture too close: a colorful leaf—a first hint of fall—that drifted down from the big oak tree on its banks, a foolish squirrel—come for a drink of ebony water—and a frog, which lept straight in. All were swallowed by the waters. All were overcome, never to be seen again.

And yet, Reina danced and dawdled on the banks. She climbed atop a log, too near to the river's edge for comfort, and took deliberately slow steps down its length, arms thrown wide for balance.

Reina!

He tried to cry out to her, but he had no voice. No sound came.

Despite that, she turned and looked at him. She wobbled precariously on the log for a moment before finding her balance again. And she smiled.

"Don't worry, Father. I won't go in until you give permission. Go back to sleep."

And with those words, as if some magic took hold of him, he was swept back up into the peaceful oblivion of dreamless sleep. When he woke, an indefinite amount of time later to sun streaming in through his bedroom windows, he had no notion whether that had been a vision from the In Between or a simple dream. But both Reina and Noctis lay beside him still.

He slept again.

When next he woke, it was full evening. The setting sun glinted off the buildings of glass and chrome outside his window, and Clarus sat in an armchair nearby, watching the world from above. Reina and Noctis were gone from his bed. It was that fact, more than anything, that brought him upright.

"Regis!" Clarus startled when he did so.

"My children?"

"Safe and well." Clarus rose to his feet, coming to stand beside Regis' bed. "They both woke some time ago and grew tired of idling. I believe they have both made themselves busy in various ways."

Sitting upright was making his head spin. Regis dropped back down amongst his pillows, and shut his eyes against the blurring of the room. His bed shifted as Clarus sat down on the edge.

"We've had word from Sylva," Clarus said.

Regis peeled open one eye to look at him. "Bad news?"

"Peculiar news, I would say. It would seem that ever since Niflheim's retreat, the daemons in the Outlands have been behaving… oddly."

"Oddly?"

"Attacks have become more infrequent. More than one civilian reports having seen daemons in the night and witnessed them simply walk away, as if human flesh no longer interests them."

Peculiar indeed. An olive branch, perhaps?

"What does it mean?" Clarus asked.

Regis opened both eyes and pushed himself—more slowly this time—into an upright position. He passed a hand over his face. His hair and beard were both a mess. Clarus had seen worse.

"It means I am going to war with the Draconian," Regis said. "I do not ask you to stand beside me and fight a god. But I also will not turn aside your help, if offered."

Though Clarus looked initially started by the declaration, resolve hardened on his features. "My shield is yours. As it always has been."

"And I hope it shall continue to be for many decades yet. Come. Help me to stand. I tire of bed and wish to return to my kingdom."

"Are you well enough to take on your duties?"

"No. But I am well enough to take on my lounge. And perhaps whatever meal is served at this time of day."

The clock read just past seven. Dinner, then. He took it in his lounge, listening to reports of the time he had spent abed. After, he felt well enough to put on a suit and descend to the lower levels.

The Citadel was quiet, this time of the evening, but far from deserted. Servants and Crownsguards lined the halls and bowed silently as Regis passed with Clarus at his side and Avun two paces behind. The grand gallery, which filled to bursting on special occasions, was home to but a few courtiers, clumped at one end of the room. They sat together, a group made predominantly of women in custom-made gowns, and sipped evening coffee over quiet conversation. Regis would have passed them by entirely without notice, if not for one familiar face among their numbers.

Crea.

Crea, dressed in a gown he had commissioned for her for those occasions when she needed to fit in with his court. Ten years ago, she would have looked out of place in it. Now she wore it as a second skin: she owned the dress and found it not at all overpowering. She filled it. And it only accentuated her.

"...the entire royal family tucked away out of sight. It's no wonder people are talking," one courtier was saying.

"Firstly, that isn't true in the least and you know it," Crea said. "Prince Noctis and Princess Reina have both been out and about the Citadel. Claude, you saw both of them."

"I did," another courtier agreed.

"And the whole idea that somehow the royal family being out of sight spells disaster is ridiculous," Crea said. "I've told you already: King Regis is fine."

"You've seen him, haven't you, Crea?" One young woman leaned closer, as if expecting some confession.

"I have," Crea said. "As you might expect, repelling an invasion takes a great deal of concentration. He has been focused on keeping everyone safe. As were the prince and princess until a few days ago."

"But the imperials left days ago. Where is the king now?"

"Much the same place he has been, I expect," Crea said. "I won't pretend I understand how the royal magic works or what the requirements of the Wall are. Perhaps it is not unlike a real wall and repairs continue after the attack is through."

There was a murmuring of thoughtful agreement among the courtiers. Clarus covertly elbowed him in the ribs. They were standing in the doorway of the gallery, in plain view of many, while he stared at Crea. By some luck they had gone unnoticed thus far. It was best if he walked away before attracting attention from within.

Regis stepped out of sight, reluctantly pulling his attention from Crea. How on Eos had she become so skillful in handling panicked courtiers?

They were just like children, she had said.

"She's been at it since the siege began, more or less," Clarus said as they walked through quiet halls. "She stepped right up into that empty space and filled it as if she'd always been hired to keep panic from spreading amongst the courtiers. I don't know what we'd have done if she hadn't. Murdered them all, likely."

Regis shook his head, though he couldn't help the smile that formed. The sentiment was not lost on him. One courtier—indeed, one person of any class—could be reasoned with. But a whole crowd of them who had gotten into their minds a single idea were nigh impossible to settle. It was not unprecedented to find them clustered up outside the throne room, the war room, or the council chamber, pounding and shouting whenever anyone walked through in an effort to be heard. And heard they were. But changing their minds with reason was another matter altogether.

Somehow, Crea had avoided that issue by gathering them around her in clusters and preventing the critical mass that formed a mob. One courtier, perhaps even five courtiers, could be reasoned with. Five hundred could not. But when ideas spread, they spread through small groups. And small groups formed the whole.

"I asked her to marry me again," Regis said.

Clarus stopped walking. "What did she say?"

"She said 'um.'"

Though with an intonation that had suggested both the terror and panic of an unprepared student faced with an unexpected quiz.

"Not entirely the answer you were hoping for, I expect." They both resumed walking. The hall was a poor place to discuss such things, and yet Regis was the one who had brought it up.

"No, and yet, more or less the one I expected," Regis said. "Ten years ago I believed she would not be able to face the duties that inevitably come with the title of Queen-consort. In the time since she has returned to us, I have changed my mind several times over. She would make a magnificent queen."

"After this display, I'm inclined to agree with you."

"It only remains to convince her of that fact," Regis said.

"And the council."

"To hell with the council," Regis said. "If they are unconvinced by her recent behavior, then I have no need of their approval."

Clarus gave him the look that said he was being childish and could not be reasoned with. It was likely true. Perhaps that was why Crea handled him so well.