"Are you at all sure that this is a wise idea?" Clarus asked.
"Not in the least."
They were standing in a small servant's chamber off a larger lounge, where Ardyn poked about, inspecting every vase in every corner. It had been unsurprisingly difficult to pin him down in the physical world and convince him to appear as asked.
"Boy's gone mad," Cid said. "Senile. Time to pass the throne to the prince and hang him out to dry."
"Make up your mind, Cid. Is he too young or too old? You can't keep both sets of jokes up indefinitely," Clarus said.
"When you're my age, they're the same thing," Cid said.
"Then why, might I ask, are we doing it?" Weskham steered the conversation back to where it had begun.
"Because I am running out of ideas. Lucis is drowning, Reina has Dreamed nothing to tell us how to stop it, Niflheim has retreated only temporarily on account of their daemons having turned against them, the Draconian wants my son dead, and the Starscourge wants me to fight the Gods," Regis said.
"So you're throwing fire at more fire and hoping it doesn't make a bigger fire?" Cor asked.
"In a word," Regis agreed.
A knock came to the outer door. Ardyn straightened abruptly from his inspection of the windowsill and dropped onto the chaise lounge. Regis entered the main lounge, followed shortly by his retinue, and called for Hamon to enter.
He did. The doors opened just enough to admit him and he slipped inside, keen eyes taking in every detail of the room and its occupants. Though he bowed to Regis, his eyes landed on Ardyn and a light of interest took his face.
"Chancellor Izunia," Hamon said. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person."
His words were polite, but guarded. The tiger let loose with the lion, not the cat that had swallowed the canary.
"I prefer King Ardyn," Ardyn said.
"Don't we all?" Hamon asked.
"Yeah. No way this goes wrong," Cor muttered. "You really plan to leave them here alone?"
"No," Regis said. "I plan to leave them here well guarded."
He eyed Cor pointedly. Cor looked as if he had been asked to consume a bucket of live snakes, rather than watch a pair of them. Nevertheless, he took up a guard position by the door and stared straight ahead.
With that taken care of Regis and the others withdrew. Ardyn and Hamon would not speak candidly before the king, but perhaps they would overlook the presence of a single Crownsguard. Regardless, he expected to hear three different tales of what had occurred when this meeting was over.
It was unsurprisingly difficult to keep his mind on other tasks, over the next few hours. The only updates that came to his study were that refreshments had been served and the doors remained shut.
"Well no one has reported hearing screams," Clarus noted. "So at least we know Cor hasn't murdered them yet."
"Don't be absurd, Clarus," Weskham said. "If Cor was going to murder them, he'd be more discreet than that."
It took the better part of four hours before word came that the meeting had adjourned and that Hamon had left the lounge—though the chancellor was nowhere to be seen. Regis sent orders that Hamon was to be summoned to him to report.
He needn't have bothered. No sooner had the runner left to find him than Hamon arrived at Regis' study with Cor at his heels.
"Damn near promised him half of Lucis," Cor said before Hamon could manage a word.
Regis glanced sharply at Cor and motioned for the doors to be shut. "Cor, you may report to me after. Master Hamon, please tell me what has occurred."
He folded himself into an armchair and the others did much the same.
Hamon cleared his throat. "The imperial chancellor has made a series of demands under the pretense that he must be provided with something to placate him until the true purpose of your alliance is fulfilled." He paused here, as if to allow Regis to wonder whether the true purpose had been discussed during this meeting. It mattered little at this point.
"Few of these things truly interest him, unless I am very much mistaken. He seemed more interested in seeing how his demands would be received than actually having them met."
Regis waited for him to come to the heart of the matter. By the door, Cor stood, statuesque, and stared dead ahead as if this were the only way to prevent himself from speaking out of turn.
"Among his more outlandish requests was having his kingdom returned to him and him reinstated as the rightful king of Lucis. At a guess, I should say he has no interest in actually ruling a kingdom, but takes delight in causing torment. The thought of catching you between two impossible demands and watching you squirm doubtless gives him pleasure to no end."
This was not news, precisely, but Hamon had confirmed Regis' silent suspicions about some of Ardyn's more obtuse motivations.
"Needless to say, I have brushed aside his more absurd suggestions with light laughter. Failure to engage with these suggestions should, unless I am very much mistaken, disperse them altogether," Hamon concluded. He paused here to take a drink from the tall glass of water Avun had poured for him before continuing. "Now onto the meat of the matter. It is my professional opinion that he would, with some aid from Lucis, be perfectly capable of dismantling Niflheim entirely from within. Sparing that, he could certainly keep them busy enough to prevent them from giving any thought to nations outside their current borders for a very long time. As we have discussed, it remains a matter of motivation. After digging through layer upon layer of toy demands, we at last settled upon one that, I believe, he is well within his rights to ask for in exchange for ending this war."
He paused here again. And, over the rim of his glass, he offered Regis a sly smile. He needed no more than that for Regis to guess what this demand pertained to.
"The princess' gifts," Hamon said. "The chancellor has requested she be permitted to Dream for him."
Regis fought back his initial impulse to refuse even the suggestion and swallowed the taste of bile. He should have known this was precisely what would come of putting Hamon and Ardyn in the same room together.
"I see," Regis said instead, though it took all his self control to appear outwardly unmoved. "And has he given any further instruction upon that point?"
"Merely that, given permission, he would be capable of meeting her and guiding her to look ahead as per his specifications."
Surely he could have done that anyway. He had already met with Reina in the In Between. What was stopping him from dropping hints in another nighttime conversation as to what she should search for when next she Dreamed?
Perhaps—he hoped—the knowledge that Reina would disregard suggestions not approved by Regis. Or perhaps the possibility that, if he abused his connection with Reina, the fragile alliance he had built with Regis would shatter.
"Thank you, Master Hamon," Regis said. "You may rest assured that I shall take this offer into due consideration. Your services are greatly appreciated."
Regis motioned to Cor, who took a step forward. Hamon rose in the same instant, choosing to take the dismissal as it came rather than be explicitly escorted out.
He bowed low. "Your Majesty. I can only advise that you make a wise choice."
And with that unasked-for piece of counsel, he turned and showed himself out of Regis' study.
"Snake," Cor said as soon as the door was shut.
"Indeed," Clarus said. "I cannot help but wonder: was it him or Ardyn who made the suggestion of exchanging Reina's foresight for favors against Niflheim?"
Cor took up Hamon's vacated seat, pushed his half-drunk glass of water aside, and put his boots up on Regis' coffee table. "It was him. Bastard's been after the princess' magic since he knew it existed. If you want my opinion, he's hoping the chancellor will repay a favor with a favor and have her look where he wants."
"A distinct possibility. And one we should keep in mind moving forward," Clarus agreed. "If we move forward. Alternatively, we should have to establish a counter-offer and deliver it to Ardyn personally. Given that Hamon has his own motivations in the mix now, we cannot trust him to negotiate an alternative."
"What else would we offer?" Weskham asked. "The whole point of this was to learn what he wanted."
"And instead we only learned what Hamon wanted. Fat lot of good that does us," Cor said.
"I suppose that was inevitable. But we did learn what Ardyn is willing to accept, whether to humor Hamon or otherwise," Clarus said. "Perhaps this offer could be used as an opportunity to learn more of his deeper motivations. If we knew what he would ask Princess Reina to Dream of, we might have a greater understanding of what he wishes to gain."
"Besides the death of Bahamut," Cor said darkly.
"That's a fair idea," Weskham said. "What are your thoughts, Regis?"
Silence fell.
"Regis?" Clarus prompted.
That was his name. The sort of question one usually responded to. Yet he struggled to do so.
Until this point, their words had drifted, a continuous stream, through his mind. Beneath it all ran a low and growing scream. He forced his eyes back into focus and looked at Clarus.
"I beg pardon, my friends," he managed, "But I believe I should like a moment to myself."
Following the stunned silence came the shuffle of his retinue rising and hastening out the door with little more ceremony than that. And he was alone.
He could end this war. Leave an era of peace and prosperity in its wake and negate the need for the Wall and the drain of the Ring all before he passed the throne on to his children.
He could seize what was left of his life as his own, without feeling the constant drain of power beneath the ever-leeching Ring.
He could accomplish everything he wanted with but a few words.
All he had to do was sell his daughter.
It wasn't clear how long he sat in his chair, staring at nothing as those few thoughts chased each other around his mind. Minutes ticked by on the clock above the mantle. When next he glanced at it, the hour hand had marched past several numbers.
A knock came to his study door. When it went unanswered, a second knock came, and Avunculus calling "Your Majesty?"
When that, too, passed without response they left him alone. For a little while. Then the knocking returned, more insistently.
"Regis?" Clarus called.
A moment passed before the door cracked open and a face appeared around it. Clarus', perhaps. Regis didn't turn his head to look. The face withdrew and the door closed once more. Silence fell.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't offer up his little girl to end the war any more than he could have offered up his son to end the darkness. Perhaps it was different. Perhaps this would not kill her, but there was no telling what passing her unguarded into the hands of a snake like Ardyn would do to a child of twelve.
Arguably, it should have been her choice. The magic, as he had always said, was hers, and she alone could choose what to Dream. He had sworn he would not guide her Dreams to futures that would benefit Lucis. He had sworn he would not limit her life in that way. But to give her the offer—would you like to speak with this man and hear what he has to say?—without the added knowledge that if she did not, the war would continue and the Wall would drain her father dry, was that not a reasonable choice?
Save that no reasonable father would put his child in a room with Ardyn Lucis Caelum and close the door.
The hour hand had skipped a few more numbers. The knocking returned; this time it was a more tentative tapping.
"Regis?"
The only voice that could call him from this swirling storm. Crea.
He tried to open his mouth, to call for her to enter, but no response came from his body. His muscles were tense and unmoving, rooted to the spot.
The door opened anyway. Unlike Clarus, Crea did not withdraw upon seeing him precisely where he had been for the past several hours. Days, maybe, by now. She shut the door behind her and came to him. Her movement drew his eyes as nothing else had been able to: she wore a dress, which slithered softly as she moved. He held his hand out to her without meaning to and she took it, allowing him to pull her into his lap and wrap his arms around her.
"Clarus told me what happened," she said. And nothing more. Because there was nothing more to be said.
"I swore never to use her," Regis said. "Not to extend my life. Not to spare me some pain and weakness. Not even to end this Gods damned war."
She shifted so she sat astride his lap and held his head against her chest. The steady thrumming of her heart lulled him. He wrapped his arms more tightly about her and shut his eyes.
"I understand." Though her voice was just a murmur, it echoed in his ears. "We protect them. At any cost."
He shifted, loosening his hold on her enough to look into her eyes. "You do not disagree with me?"
"Of course not. And I intend to stand beside you and ensure that you have the support you need to keep your word." She said it so simply: the decision made already. He could not exchange a twelve-year-old for peace. He had sworn he never would and that was that. The only thing that stood between him and a definitive decision was the fact that everyone he knew would object.
Save Crea.
"You're forgetting that I'm a mother first and a queen… not at all, if we're being perfectly honest," she said.
The mother his children had never had.
"Crea." He rested his forehead against her sternum and shut his eyes again.
"Hm?" She pressed her lips to his greying hair.
"Bless you."
