Despite the fact that Reina and Noctis had moved into rooms on opposite sides of the north Citadel tower, they were still both in Noctis' rooms when Regis came to find them at bedtime. They lay flung among a pile of pillows on the floor, fingers entwined and whispering furtively to one another.
Regis tapped at the open door. "Am I interrupting?"
They startled, both struggling upright as the conversation died. Evidently he was. But it was bedtime all the same.
"Not at all, Father," Reina said. "We were just… talking."
Thick as thieves. Who was it that had called Noctis a noisome brat just earlier this morning? Surely not the same girl that now sat on the floor with him. Just talking.
Teenagers, Crea had warned him, were wont to keep secrets from their parents. So long as they were not dangerous secrets, they should be allowed their privacy.
"How am I to tell if they are dangerous secrets, if I hardly know the content?" He had asked.
"You won't," she had said. "The point is to trust them. Trust them to take care of small problems themselves and to bring bigger problems to someone bigger. And if you can place that trust in them, they'll be much more likely to place the same in you and come to your door when they need help."
It was going to be a long several years, these teenaged times. And they weren't even thirteen.
"Well, much as I detest being the bearer of bad news, it is bedtime," Regis said to them. "So. How shall we do this?"
It was decided that, for tonight at least, they would have a bedtime story in Noctis' room before Reina went to her own bed. Because, for tonight at least, they were feeling agreeable toward each other.
Reina's lessons in Dreaming had resumed with the breaking down of Regis' barriers. And so, after the bedtime story was complete, he tucked her into her own bed and sat down beside her in a room that felt much too large for such a small girl.
"Father… is there anything else I should know to Dream of?" She asked. "Besides the Fulgarian?"
It was not a question she usually asked him. How deeply had Hamon's words sunken in? She had brushed him off quickly enough, but she knew that Ardyn had made an offer and that, in some shape or form, the outcome was important enough for Hamon to suggest she Dream on it.
"Go where your heart takes you," Regis said, hoping this would be enough to keep her from dwelling on Hamon's suggestion for long.
She pursed her lips, disappointed, but nodded. And she shut her eyes. There was always the possibility that where her heart took her was precisely what Hamon wished her to Dream—and what Regis wished her not to Dream. And therein lay his fears. If she Dreamed all that could come to pass, what would she do with that information? What would he? If he knew every outcome of accepting Ardyn's offer… were there truly risks at all?
For one night, at least, his concerns were put on hold. No Dreams of potential futures came to Reina and, once he had tucked her in a second time and left her to sleep through the night, he had a full day before he needed to consider those troubling possibilities again.
In the meantime, life went on. In the wake of the press conference announcing Regis' engagement to Crea, Crea had taken up wedding planning. Mostly, this added one more thing in their schedules to keep them apart. As Reina had aptly noted, this was likely for the best. But it certainly didn't feel that way. On those rare occasions when they sat and shared quiet conversation over a cup of hot tea, she thankfully refrained from asking his opinion on too many details—the first few had been more than enough.
"Plan it however you like," he told her. "The only thing that matters to me is the bride."
That had them smiling stupidly at each other in silence for several minutes. After that, she kept wedding planning details out of their rare evening conversations.
Reina seemed to spend a great many hours with Crowe, those days. When she wasn't occupied with her duties elsewhere, she was with Crowe—having quiet and private discussions in her new rooms or out in the training hall. Ever since it had occurred to her that she had her own Kingsglaive bodyguard, she had begged off lessons with Gladio in favor of those with Crowe.
"Get your little ass in gear, Princess! You tryna fall behind?!"
It was not a tone he usually heard taken toward his daughter. And yet there was no doubting the words that had come drifting down the hall. Regis' brows came together in the center and he adjusted his course.
"Ten!—you're gonna have to do better than that, Highness—eleven!—Don't you dare wimp out on me, girl—twelve!—"
He rounded the corner and the training hall came into view. The doors, thrown full open, showed a pair of dark-haired young women in loose training gear, the smaller on her hands and toes in push-up position while the other stood over her, back to the door.
"Thirteen!—You're getting sloppy! Tighten up that core!" The taller of the pair struck the underside of Reina's bare stomach and her form straightened.
Regis clenched his fists and picked up his pace. Outside of today, he had heard Crowe Altius speak no more than a handful of muted words. But he could place her without seeing her face, nevertheless. When he had assigned her to protect his daughter, this was not precisely what he had had in mind.
"Fourteen!—Let's go, Princess! I want to see sweat dripping—Fifteen!—If you can still hear me through the pounding—Sixteen!—Then you're not working hard enough!"
On the next dip, Reina's arms quivered and gave out. Her chin hit the floor. For a time she just lay, panting, on the hardwood. But doubtless Crowe would stand for that not at all. In another breath she would be shouting and hauling Reina up, even though she clearly—
"Heh. Not bad for a pampered princess." Crowe dropped onto the floor next to her, sitting cross-legged and reaching the water bottle nearby, which she promptly passed over. Reina rolled onto her back to receive it.
Reina gulped down mouthful after mouthful of water until she needed to breathe. She slumped back to the ground, panting, and peered up at Crowe. "Still can't hit twenty."
"Eh. You'll get there. Months take longer when you're not that old, but honestly you'll make it in no time, working like you are."
"And then what?"
"Then we keep pushing."
Regis has stopped walking. He stood in the hall outside the door; he might have been clearly visible if either of them had turned toward the door, but they were engrossed. His desire to intervene had fled and in its place was the growing inkling that he was eavesdropping on what should have been a private conversation.
"Remember what I said," Crowe continued, "When you're a girl you have to work harder to do the same stuff the boys do. They're always going to expect less of you. So we prove them wrong."
Regis turned and tiptoed sheepishly away from the training hall, leaving princess and Glaive to their training talk. And to think he had very nearly intervened. Old fool that he was.
The next time he passed by the training hall during Reina and Crowe's hours, Iris and Cindy had joined. Regis merely grinned and shook his head. He left them to it.
Days passed. Bit by bit, Regis began to convince himself that Reina would not Dream as Hamon had suggested she should—or had begun to suggest she should, in any case. Though she seemed often restless and fidgety upon waking from her nightly lessons—if they could truly be called that when he did little save watch over her—he put this down to displeasure at not being able to see anything of use.
In truth, there was a certain impatience about him as well. Gentiana had suggested that Reina knew—or could find—the correct way to bargain with a god. And yet nothing. They had spoken of it only briefly after his meeting with the Messenger. Each time he thought to bring it up, he was dismayed by the look of disappointment on her face. She knew as well as he that her Dreams were their only lead in this. Reminding her would do nothing, save make her more distressed.
And so he sat beside her bed, counting minutes on the wall clock and awaiting—with very little hope—the results of her dip into the Black River.
"Father…" Reina shifted in her sleep, mumbling.
Regis looked up sharply. The last time she had Dreamed of him, she had learned things he would have preferred she never knew. And yet that was the price she paid for her sight.
"I'm here, Reina." He reached for her hand, uncertain how much comfort she would glean from that while Dreaming. "Right beside you, my dear."
It was no use. She Dreamed on without response.
"No, Father… You don't have to… Don't be so stupid, Father!"
He wasn't certain if he should miss the days when she would never have spoken to him in such a tone. It only seemed to amuse Crea—though primarily behind closed doors. But whatever this Dream was, he detested experiencing it second hand.
"Wake up, Reina." He tugged at her magic. "Come back to me, my dear."
Her magic responded to his. At first she pulled back, as if trying to remain in her Dream despite his call. But when he grew more insistent she reluctantly released her hold on the future and sprang back to her body. She passed by the usual disoriented confusion and leapt directly to an upright position, which very nearly smashed her forehead against his. If not for his own quick thinking, they both would have woken the following morning with matching bruises.
She took a sudden gasping breath, as if surfacing from a deep dive beneath the surface of time. And she looked at him through wide eyes.
"I did it," she said.
"Did what?"
"I saw what I wanted—I saw—I saw—" Some semblance of the current time came back to her. She glanced around the room, then back to him, where her eyes truly focused. She swallowed hard, as if gathering up her resolution.
"I saw what would happen if I took the Burgundy Man's offer and ended the war for you."
