As the news of a possible end to the war had not spread beyond Regis' inner circle, the news that the king had rejected it made little difference on the grand scale of things. But his retinue, who had foolishly taken for granted that Regis would accept the offer, were—to say the least—displeased.
"I understand you want to protect your daughter," Weskham said, "But you need to think clearly, Regis. The end of this war may mean millions of lives in the long run. And, when all is said and done, we have no way to win without Ardyn's help: all of this will be passed on to your children anyway."
The same objections he had thrown at himself. Reina and Noctis would inevitably have to deal with the war in their own time, if not now. Would he not be protecting Reina if he used her to protect Lucis?
A hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up into Crea's face and found, not the kind expression of the caretaker he knew and loved, but the look of a woman prepared to fight tooth and nail for her children.
Regis covered her hand with his.
"We do not know that the war will be passed on to them. I mean to see that it does not: and without putting twelve-year-olds on a bargaining table," he said.
"She has shown nothing but eagerness to speak with Ardyn," Clarus said. "Why not permit her to?"
Crea's hand tightened on his shoulder. "'Why not permit her to?'" She repeated, voice tight with emotion. "Your daughter is eight. Why don't you allow her to attend Crownsguard training with Gladio, like she begs every morning? Why did you prevent Gladiolus from joining the strike team outside the Wall when the empire struck, though he pleaded to be brought along? Because sometimes we understand the risks better than our children do, Master Amicitia, and sometimes what they want is not what is best for them."
Her fingers would leave red marks in Regis' shoulder before she was through lecturing.
"As for the rest of you: how dare you try to convince your king to compromise his morals and give his twelve year old daughter to a madman? How dare you suggest that might be a worthy cause or an acceptable price to pay? How dare you push him to break his word?"
Not a one of them was not shamed or cowed by her words. Clarus hung his head, hands clenched on the arms of his chair. Weskham turned aside, arms folded and eyes closed. Cid looked past them, a faraway look of regret in his eyes. Even Cor had averted his gaze before the fire of Crea's maternal rage.
Queen-consort in all but name.
"His Majesty's decision has been passed onto you," she said, "The time for discussion and debate is over. This is not a matter he requires your counsel on. Now leave."
The silence that followed was more than half a stunned response to her dismissal. It was Weskham who rose first, bowed to both of them, and moved for the door. The others followed after, in various states of confusion.
Regis squeezed her hand. Bit by bit the death grip she held on his shoulder loosened.
"They are all good men," Regis said. "Though we may disagree."
She sighed. "I know. But two of them, at least, are fathers and should know better."
It would always be easier to put another man's children in jeopardy than one's own children.
Following their private discussion and Crea's definitive dismissal of the subject, Regis' retinue, at least, accepted the choice and moved on. The issue remained that Hamon knew more than was comfortable. For the moment, that was dealt with by neglecting to deliver any form of conclusion to him. But such evasion only worked for so long before he requested a private audience with Regis and asked. Though there remained the possibility of simply insisting they were considering all options and had not made a decision, lying to Hamon tended to be a dangerous option.
So he told the truth.
Which Hamon received without surprise. Though something like disappointed resignation settled on his features.
"I see," he said. "May I say, Your Majesty, that when I counselled you to make a wise choice, this is not the one I had in mind."
"And full aware am I, Master Hamon," Regis said. "Your own motivations, notwithstanding. However, the choice has been made. If there is nothing else?"
Hamon bowed himself out of Regis' study. Doubtless he would not let the matter lie, but for now at least it was in the open. And for the moment, Ardyn had yet to make an appearance and object to the choice. For all Regis knew, he had no interest in Reina's magic at all and had merely taken the suggestion in order to cause strife.
On a more positive front, the gears were set in motion for Regis' engagement to Crea. As the council had no grounds to object on, the press conference moved forward and a public announcement was made.
Beneath a sea of umbrellas they gathered, Crea in her new dress and Regis in the same suit he wore most every day, to stand before the cameras and assembled press. The reaction was explosive and almost entirely positive. Despite—or perhaps due to—the perpetually rotten weather, the people of Lucis were ecstatic to receive news of a future queen.
For days after the press conference, pictures of Regis and Crea standing together in front of the Citadel peppered every newspaper across Lucis. And for weeks after, newspapers and magazines printed story upon story of the fairytale romance that had elevated a common Insomnia-born girl from wet-nurse to future Queen-consort.
"They've even dragged up my mother's death and—and everything—!" Crea slapped a newspaper down on the coffee table in the royal lounge.
Regis pursed his lips. "I fear you have underestimated the persistence of the press, my dear."
"Don't call her that." Reina had stepped out of the hall and into the lounge. She was dressed as if to go out, though it was already late evening. Crowe, her ever-present shadow, stood one step behind her.
Regis raised his eyebrows at her, more surprised than anything to have such a sharp look leveled in his direction.
"Call her what?" Regis asked at length.
"'My dear,'" She spat the words like an insult. "That's my name. So don't you dare call her anything you call me."
Before Regis could gather up the scattered bits of his brain and fit them back together inside his head, Reina had swept through the lounge and disappeared down the stairs.
Regis was still gaping when he caught Crea's eye. "What have I said?"
Crea shrugged. "A few more months and you'll have two teenagers on your hands. Better learn what makes them tick while you're ahead."
When Regis continued to stare at her, she motioned pointedly toward the stairs. "That means go after her, you big dumb-dumb!"
He shut his mouth with a snap and did as she advised—though he did pause to give her a kiss first. "Are you certain you'll be alright? The papers—"
"I'm fine. I've got thick skin. And you better have too, when you go face an angry princess."
Yes. Well. That was quite another matter altogether, wasn't it? And when had Reina ever taken such a tone with him before?
Since she had been twelve and a half, perhaps.
"And Regis? Keep in mind that until very recently, she's been accustomed to being the only woman in your life."
"Right," he managed.
He hastened after Reina, which turned out to be more of an issue than it would have, had he not dallied in the first place. Reina was not downstairs. According to the Crownsguards, she had taken the lift as soon as descending to the next level. And it was anyone's guess where she had stepped out again. If not for the fact that the Citadel was swarming with guards and that every guard was connected via radio, it might have been an impossible errand.
Thankfully, it was not.
He followed Reina down to the lower levels and, not far from the grand gallery, caught a snippet of conversation echoing from ahead. Voices carried well in silent Citadel halls.
"Your Highness. If I might have a word?"
Hamon. Damn that man. Reina, distressed, had fled straight into him. At least she had Crowe with her. Nevertheless, Regis picked up his pace.
"I have somewhere to be, Master Hamon," Reina said in clipped tones.
"Then I shall speak quickly and walk beside you, if that suits you?"
Whether she indicated that it did or not, the sound of their footsteps implied he was doing so.
"I wondered if your father had discussed with you the matter of Chancellor Izunia's offer?"
"He has not."
"I see. Well, far be it from me to step around the king, but it was a matter of great importance, and I merely thought—"
"You think I am very naive, don't you, Master Hamon?"
The sound of footsteps had stopped. It took a moment before Regis realized that was because he, too, had stopped walking at the sudden sharp words from his daughter.
"I suppose you think you might drop hints and get me to do precisely what you would like me to do. Is that not so?" Reina asked. "I fear you are in for something of a surprise then. You see, this magic is mine and I shall Dream whatever it is I choose to Dream. It is not at your beck and call, whatever you may be in this kingdom. And you cannot lead me by dropping trails of sweets and expecting me to follow them."
Regis forced his feet to move again. Surely it was Reina's voice. Though if not for the last words she had uttered before fleeing the upper levels, he might have insisted it was Crowe speaking for her. But no. Crowe lacked the carefully cultured tones of a Caelum. No one but a princess could muster such indignation.
"I have no interest in your baiting tactics. Now, if you will excuse me, I have somewhere to be. Good evening."
The footsteps resumed. Regis rounded the corner and nearly ran into Hamon, who stood in the center, looking stunned as Regis had never known him to be.
"I see you have met my teenage daughter," Regis said. "And now, may I advise you to make a wise choice?"
He passed Hamon by and swept after Reina. It was not difficult to overtake her at a rapid pace, not least of all because she turned and looked over her shoulder when she heard him approach.
"Father." She stopped walking and addressed him in guarded tones. "I suppose you followed and overheard my conversation with Master Hamon?"
"I did, though that was not my intent."
"Well. Good then. You should know I don't need to be coddled."
Regis opened and shut his mouth several times before words came out. "I sense I have done something to displease you."
"You know full well what you did."
He had called Crea 'my dear.' The why, perhaps was more important than the what, and yet that was still lacking. Crea's words came back to him, along with a conversation he and Reina had shared when she had still been of both a size and inclination to sit in his lap while he worked in his study.
"Reina. My dearest," he said, choosing the moniker deliberately. "I wish it went without saying that having Crea join our family does not change how much I love you. But I fear, perhaps, in a flurry of other events, I have neglected to emphasize that you are—and always will be—my little girl. My princess. My dearest Reina. And if that is the case then I apologize. The truth is that I would give my life and so much more to protect you: such is how precious you are to me. And so I can easily swear not to apply names to Crea that I have already given to you, if it truly troubles you so much."
"It does." She folded her arms over her chest and looked aside. A flush grew on her cheeks. "Do you really love me more than anything?"
"I do."
"More than Lucis?"
Once the question would have caught him off-guard and left him uncertain how to answer it. In light of the choices he had just made with regard to Lucis' future and hers, he could now answer it easily.
"More than Lucis."
She chewed her bottom lip, which smeared lipstick on her teeth. Regis held his hands out to her and, after a moment's hesitation, she came and allowed him to gather her up in his arms. She was still small enough that he could lift her off her feet, but given how dignified she was trying to be lately, he refrained. Instead he merely hugged her tight against his chest and kissed her hair. And they stood for some time, in silence, that way before a question struck him.
"Where was it you needed to be?" He asked.
"Um. I was going to see Ravus."
"Ravus? At this time of the evening?"
She groaned and pushed away, breaking the hug. "It isn't even late."
"Reina. You know you are not meant to see Prince Ravus without a chaperone." He had meant to sound reasonable. Judging by the huff she gave and the way she balled her fists on her hips, it had not come across that way.
"Well why not? You never have a chaperone when you see Miss Crea!"
Regis pursed his lips. "No, indeed."
And where was Crea when he needed her? Upstairs, safely avoiding the preteen years. He would simply have to deal with them himself.
"Well maybe you should," Reina said.
"Perhaps we should," Regis agreed. All things considered, it was a sensible idea. Also one he opposed with every ounce of solitude-seeking-adulthood inside him.
Ah. So that was what it felt like to be a teenager. Yes, he recalled those years now.
Reina looked taken aback that he had agreed. He pressed his advantage.
"You do, I note, have Crowe with you," he conceded.
"Yes…" Reina said slowly, with caution.
"If, perhaps, she guards from a discrete distance, during your evening walk to… whatever secluded parts of the castle you should choose to visit, I could be persuaded to forget everything I know about your whereabouts tonight."
She studied him, eyes narrowed. Her gaze flicked to Crowe, then back to him. "We have an accord."
Regis smiled. "Excellent. And Reina? I love you more than Eos. Even when you are upset with me. Remember that, my dearest."
He turned to spare her the trouble of trying to think up a suitable response, and began to make his way back to the elevator.
"Father," Reina called after him. He looked over his shoulder. "I love you even when I'm mad at you!"
He smiled and kept walking. Perhaps they would make it through the teenage years after all.
