As Regis had known from the start, making a deal with a daemon was not so simple as promising and receiving. As he had evidently done once for Reina, Ardyn sought Regis in his dreams.

"My end of the bargain is fulfilled, Nephew. It is time you stepped up and opposed the Astrals yourself."

"Have I not?" Regis asked. "As you have seen, my kingdom is besieged by the Fulgarian himself."

"He is but a pawn in the game," Ardyn said. "Challenge the Draconian. Draw your blade against him."

"Only a fool would do so. Do you wish to win this war, or see me killed? I understand the latter will give you no grief, and yet I must know your true motivations before I act."

"My motivations are very simple, Nephew. I want revenge on those who have wronged me. In all other circumstances, when such revenge is not immediately available, I seek only to amuse myself."

It was so plainly straight-forward and so very much in agreement with everything Regis had witnessed from him thus far that it could only be truth.

Ardyn laughed. "So taken aback by my honesty? I can be truthful if I like."

"So I see. In any case, let us then focus on revenge. Though I am descended from one who has wronged you, let us hope I am of more use to you than crushing out the image of your brother."

"Admittedly, you look very little like him."

Indeed. When they had spoken face to face, Regis could recognize speaking with Ardyn's brother more clearly than speaking with an ancestor. He did, however, bear a stronger resemblance to Noctis. A concerning comparison, if Ardyn was concerned with eliminating all traces of Somnus. He stashed the thought away for later reference.

"Your revenge, then, requires the eradication of the Draconian," Regis said.

"Indeed."

"As of right now, he is surrounded by powerful allies. We are not."

"And so?"

"We must either dismantle his allies or build our own. Given the circumstances, the former is more likely to benefit us. I can think of only one other person on Eos currently old enough to be of any assistance to us. Unless you wish to wait a decade."

"I have waited two millennia," Ardyn said. "I would rather not wait any longer."

And yet, what was a decade after waiting two thousand years?

A question better left unasked.

"This will not happen overnight, either way," Regis cautioned.

"Are you suggesting we systematically exterminate every remaining Astral?"

"I was rather suggesting we negotiate with them," Regis said. "Though given your history of allies, I can hardly blame you for your conclusions."

Niflheim had made their job easier, whether Regis agreed with their methods or not. If reports were true, two Astrals had already fallen to their hands.

"It would be easier to kill them," Ardyn said.

"And it would be easier if I laid down my crown, gathered up my children, and walked away from Lucis. But it would not be right."

Ardyn gave an exasperated sigh. "Why am I always stuck with the moral ones?"

"Somehow, I doubt you ever have been before," Regis said. "If you continue to keep the empire off my borders, I will continue to gather information and formulate a plan to decrease the Draconian's power."

Ardyn stepped backward and faded into the blackness. It was the nearest to assent as he would receive.

And so it was that they settled into an uneasy truce. How long it would last before Ardyn grew impatient once more, Regis had no notion, but as his only lead with regard to person allies was halfway across Lucis and hip-deep in landslides, Regis had little choice but to push the boundaries of their agreement. He could scarcely discuss world-shattering secrets with the Oracle over the Kingsglaive radio.

Fall had come and gone before Sylva and Lunafreya returned. Winter was coming to Insomnia and still the unending storm raged across Lucis. The sun had not shone in five months.

During that time, some semblance of normalcy settled into place. The lowering of Reina's barriers had not provoked any action from Ardyn and so her lessons in Dreaming resumed. School and private tutoring for the twins continued, although in whatever modified form was made necessary by the inclement weather. Plans and preparations for Reina and Ravus' betrothal ceremony persisted, though a date was not yet set. With time pressures no longer enforced by the empire, they were free to wait until the storm passed.

If ever it passed.

And, throughout it all, Crea persisted in her new position in court, though with one new development: she begged leave to join Reina and Noctis' lessons on upper class society and etiquette. This fact delighted Reina and mortified Noctis. As per usual, Crea continued to walk with Reina and Ravus as their chaperone, but she had created a following of her own and several dozen courtiers flocked to her daily for advice and chatter on every subject beneath the storm.

She had yet to give Regis an answer.

And so that was the state of things when, one stormy night precisely like every stormy night before it, the Oracle and her daughter returned from their long excursion across the kingdom.

Five months of trudging through mud and muck was bound to have an impression on any person. But, as he stood in the entry hall to greet the returning guests and Kingsglaives, Regis struggled to see it as a negative impression.

Gone were the fineries of Tenebrae. Sylva and Lunafreya were both dressed for travel in Outland-made clothes: heavy canvas pants, boots caked in mud, water resistant coats and wide-brimmed hats. If they had brought any jewelry or ornamentation with them, it was either packed away in the bags they hauled or lost in the floods outside. Both wore their hair up in their hats, and, when those inevitably came off, it was not a cascade of clean blonde locks that came out, but a flop of dirty blonde hair matted with muck.

"Welcome back," Regis said, suddenly feeling much too clean for present company, as if his precious hands had been too neatly manicured to risk outside in the mud. He should have been with them.

And yet, who would have remained to hold Insomnia against Niflheim, if he had?

He pushed these thoughts away and focused on the present. "Avun. See to it that the Oracle and Lunafreya receive hot baths in their rooms and have fresh clothes laid out for them."

"It may take some time to wash all the mud off," Sylva said. "If there is a need, we can report on the success of our mission before."

Though he was eager to discuss certain developments inside and outside Insomnia, none of them were so urgent that they could not wait for a bath. He well knew the discomfort of sitting through diplomatic meetings after trudging through the wild. It promised to be a long night: let her at least be as comfortable as possible.

"There is no need," Regis said. "Make yourselves comfortable and after we shall speak."

She bowed to his judgement and left with Lunafreya, trailed by a handful of servants, to wash off several months worth of Lucian mud. Once the Kingsglaives who had served as her guards and guides were dismissed to similar end, Regis withdrew to the royal levels. What he had to discuss with Sylva was only in part related to the Starscourge and, while it all pertained to the safety of his kingdom, it seemed somehow more appropriate to hold the meeting upstairs in his private lounge.

The royal lounge was quiet. The hour for Reina and Noctis' bed had already passed by and both were, if not asleep, at least quietly pretending to be so behind their own door. But Crea sat up waiting. She had already showered and changed from the fineries of court to more comfortable—but no less natural—nightwear. Somehow she could look at ease in the finest of custom made gowns or in sweatpants and an oversized nightshirt with the collar cut out.

She rose when he entered. "Did something happen?"

"Sylva has returned."

For a moment he thought he saw a flicker of something on her face—jealousy or displeasure—before she tucked it away like a true courtier.

"I see," she said. "And you'll be hearing her report tonight?"

"I shall. Another long night, I expect."

The elevator chimed and out stepped Weskham and Cid. Regis turned to greet them both with a nod and a clasped wrist.

"Finally moving forward, eh?" Cid asked. "Took you long enough."

"Sometimes there are matters out of my hands, which I must wait for. Like it or not, I do not control time," Regis said.

Cid scrutinized him. "You're a right stick in the mud these days, Reggie, you know that?"

"It comes with the crown, I fear."

They stood about, talking intermittently and keeping their voices low at Regis' behest, in case the twins were, in fact, asleep. Crea stood with them, joining in the conversation when engaged, but primarily observing.

The next time the elevator doors opened, Cor arrived and, not long after, came Clarus.

"Clarus." Weskham slapped him agreeably on the shoulder. "Have they called you out of bed?"

"Very nearly," Clarus said. "Let's hope it was worth it, shall we? With any luck, we'll make progress tonight."

He glanced significantly among them, met Regis' gaze, and offered a nod. Sylva was the primary surviving expert on all things pertaining to the Starscourge and the Astrals.

"You aren't just talking about the Starscourge in the Outlands, are you?" Crea asked.

Eyes moved from her to Regis. Their words thus far had been guarded, though perhaps less so than they would have been with another outsider. And yet, was Crea truly outsider to them? He wished she would not be. Nevertheless, she had thus far chosen to remain so. To step into the deeper affairs of the royal family brought strife that she did not deserve to bear. If that was her choice, then he would respect it.

"No," Regis said succinctly. "These matters run deeper and rather darker than I would burden you with."

"You burden your friends with them," she pointed out. Not accusing, simply observing.

"Crea," Weskham said. "You should know that, though we may look like the king's friends in the same fashion any other man has friends, we are more than that. Every one of us has come to terms early-on—some of us earlier than others and some of us with more difficulty than others—with what it means to be taken into the king's inner circle. We are his friends. And his confidants. And his brothers-in-arms or his protectors when the going runs rougher than usual. But in those roles we see behind everything that keeps Lucis alive and running. We don't get to just be Lucian citizens anymore. Because once you know how everything works and what's going on, all the magic fades and you find yourself standing underneath, holding it up. Alongside Regis."

A silence fell. Not uncomfortable, but thoughtful. Somehow Weskham had laid out so neatly and matter-of-factly the veil that she would need to cross if she truly wished to know the answer to her questions. On her face, Regis could only read surprise. He could not begin to guess whether she wanted to know badly enough to step past the veil forever.

"I see," she said faintly, as if her mind buzzed away too rapidly and too noisily to allow for any other words.

Once more the elevator opened. This time, Sylva Nox Fleuret stepped out. She had donned simple robes in Tenebrae colors, without ornamentation, and her hair hung loose, still dripping across her shoulders. But she was clean.

"Gentlemen." She lowered her head and curtsied. "I apologize for the wait. I am prepared to tell all I encountered beyond the Wall."

"Then let us adjourn to my private chambers." Regis motioned. "Avunculus—coffee."

There was a general motion down the hall toward Regis' rooms at his words. Clarus took the front, followed closely by Weskham and Cid, then Cor. Their voices dropped as they entered the hall and passed by the twins' darkened bedroom. In the lounge, Crea made a motion as if to follow them. Sylva noticed.

"Your Majesty, I am certain these matters do not concern a nanny."

A few feet down the hall, the others had stopped and turned back, hesitating. Crea opened and shut her mouth, pink rising to her cheeks and flushing across her ears. He fought against the impulse to step in front of her. The worst part of it was that Sylva was correct, after a fashion. What they intended to discuss did not concern the nanny.

Crea shut her mouth with a snap and turned a burning gaze on Regis. Her jaw tightened. Her hands clenched.

"Would they concern the Queen-consort?" Crea asked.

Regis' heart thudded painfully against the inside of his ribcage, making it difficult to breathe.

"They would," Regis managed. "Yes."

"Then let them concern me." Crea held her hand out, like a young courtier, too refined to ask a gentleman to dance but too impatient to wait for him to gather his wits.

Regis struggled to recall how his limbs connected to his brain. He took her hand in his and laid the other on her waist, pulling her in toward him and kissing her fiercely in a most unkingly display. Let it be improper. Let it be inappropriate for court and unacceptably familiar for the king to be witnessed in such a state. Those who chose to walk these halls were bound to find themselves in such a position, now and then.

He wrapped both arms around her, crushing her against his chest and lifting her off her feet. His lips never left hers. The only sound she made, as she held onto his lapels with both hands, was a tiny squeak of surprise, inaudible to any save himself.

He set her back on her feet, though only reluctantly drew his mouth from her. She smiled up at him, a look that said more than any words might have. Down the hall, his retinue stood in various states of interest: Cor was resolutely facing the opposite direction; Cid shook his head, amused in exasperation; Weskham had one arm slung over Cid's shoulder and was grinning like they were all schoolboys again; and Clarus craned over and around all of them to get a view from the back. He caught Regis' eye and shot him a grin and a wink. It was somewhere around then that Regis realized he was smiling like a lackwit.

Sylva stood apart and at a loss. Her eyes flicked back and forth between Regis, Crea, and the others, knowing she had witnessed something and not understanding what.

Crea caught her eyes on them and the warmth on her face faded to something cold and sly. She laid her hand on his arm. "Won't you introduce us, Regis?"

He understood the ploy at once. He straightened, letting his hands fall from her waist and instead assuming a more respectable position beside her.

"Crea, this is the Oracle: Lady Sylva Nox Fleuret. Oracle, I present to you my fiancee, the future Queen-consort of Lucis, Creare Vinculum," Regis said.

Sylva's eyes moved between them as understanding filtered into place. Slowly, as if forced by a great weight on her shoulders, she bowed her head and curtsied to Crea. "I am honored to make your acquaintance."

"Perhaps we might now adjourn and hear what the Oracle has to say?" Crea asked.

Regis fought against the smile. "A wonderful idea. Thank you Crea."

They moved down the hall to his rooms, Regis and Crea taking to the front of their small troop as the others split for them. The twins' room was still silent beyond their shut door, though a mad part of Regis wanted to stop and wake them, to share with them this part of his life that they should have been present for. But he had other matters to deal with first. Though it was difficult to focus on dark and dangerous times when an ever-expanding bubble of happiness was threatening to engulf him entirely.

They filed wordlessly into his private lounge and took their seats. Regis and Crea arranged themselves in the center of the sofa and the others sprinkled about in armchairs or on the chaise. Cor, predictably, did not sit at all, but stood beside the door. As if it was not already guarded from the outside. Nevertheless, he would stand guard, as he always did.

When all were settled and Avun had passed through their number with a coffee tray, Regis motioned that Sylva might begin her tale. She drew herself up, sitting straighter and holding her cup of coffee between her hands, and began.

The Outlands were in a sorry state. That much they had known from Kingsglaive reports. It was hardly possible to find a road that travelled ten uninterrupted miles, let alone from one side of the kingdom to the other. The people, too, were in shambles. They suffered through the unending storm, some of them without so much as a tent over their heads. Diseases less deadly than the Starscourge had begun to spread rampant among them: with close quarters and mold growing on every surface, it was only to be expected.

Thus had Sylva and Lunafreya spent their time: tending to every illness and injury that plagued Lucis. It was small wonder they had taken 5 months to cure the population. Indeed, compared to the list of things she laid out for them, it seemed an extraordinarily short time to accomplish them all in. Especially with the state of the kingdom being what it was.

The Starscourge was more or less as Ravus had reported after his venture outside the Wall: it had not been a simple process to track down all those who had been afflicted, as many were hiding their symptoms, in denial as to what the signs truly meant, and others simply had too little hope to even come when she had called. As a result, simply traveling from outpost to outpost had been insufficient. They had delved into the darker corners of the backwoods and found the little camps of refugees hidden away from the floods and the daemons on whatever land they could find, and cured them.

It was an extraordinary tale. And one which only strengthened his resolve for what came next.

"Firstly, I must thank you," Regis said. "For you have done a great service to my people these past months. For that, the crown is in your doubt. We shall reward you with whatever it is you desire—within reason."

'We.' Not 'I'.

Crea's hand lay on his. How quickly he had fallen into using the plural form again. Or perhaps he had never stopped.

"However, if you are not too weary from your journey, there are other matters I wish to discuss with you," Regis said.

"I am not too weary, Your Majesty."

Regis caught Clarus' gaze across the room and nodded once to him. Clarus took the cue.

"Though you have done a great service in curing Lucis' people, you have only treated the symptom. The disease will only return if the root of the problem is not addressed," Clarus said.

"That is so," Sylva agreed, her eyes drifting to Regis. "That was the purpose of the Chosen King."

"Indeed," Regis said. "But no longer. I have met the root of the Starscourge—as have you. And I begin to understand the true shape of the problem."

In short order he laid out for her the facts as he understood them—and those that were yet uncertain. From Ardyn's true identity to the origin of the Starscourge. At several points within his tale, Crea's grip on his hand tightened and her face grew more pale. This was the first time she had heard many of these facts as well. She had well and truly stepped beyond the veil.

When he had finished, all sat in silence. For once, Crea and Sylva's expressions mirrored one another: both of shock. But while Crea's was simply the shock of an unpleasant surprise, Sylva's quickly grew to some dawning horror and revelation.

"'The dread plague the wicked hath wrought…'" she whispered.

She startled, her eyes suddenly snapping into focus on Regis. "You say you wonder if this vision he has shown you is true. I tell you now, I fear that it is. Even now words come together in my mind. If it were one passage or two, I might dismiss them as happenstance. But time and time again throughout the Cosmogony and other, older tomes surviving only now in Fenestala, there are hints that this plague is precisely what you claim: the Cosmogony claims the wicked wrought the plague, but so too does it imply that the plague is no more than the just deserts of those wicked people. Other books—I cannot recall the precise wording as we sit here now—but others suggest a tone of justifying one's misdeeds. I wonder now if they have known all along what a mistake they had made."

"Do you suppose there is any contrition to be found among them?" Regis asked.

"One can only hope," Sylva said. Then, once more, a light of understanding crossed her face. "Yes. I believe they do. Or one, at least, among them does."

"If one does, then the others might be made to see reason as well," Regis said.

"Perhaps," Sylva said slowly.

"My quarrel is with the Draconian alone," Regis said. "And while it will benefit us all for his allies to desert him, it is also the case that Lucis cannot weather this storm for much longer. We must act. If the Fulgarian can be made to see reason, perhaps he will back down and stand aside in the face of Bahamut's orders."

"And if not reason, perhaps guilt will sway him," Clarus said.

Sylva was silent, though all eyes remained on her. She stared at a spot on the floor, tapping her fingers against her unpainted lips. At length she seemed to stir from her reverie and looked up once more at Regis.

"If this is your course, then I would aid you," she said. "But Ramuh is not the Astral to speak with first. If you would sway their minds, you must first speak with one sympathetic to your cause. My daughter will help with that."