In the days leading up to the betrothal ceremony, tensions in the Citadel were high. Had he claimed he stood apart from them, Regis would have been lying. The fact was that this ceremony was a leap toward adulthood and a definite future that he still wasn't committed to chaining Reina to. Crea did all she could to assure him that a betrothal was not the end of the world for his daughter.

Though no news of outright fights between Ignis and Ravus ever reached his ears, he was still aware of the persisting feud between them and the strain it placed on all things from Crownsguard training to family dinners. Cor admitted to adjusting the schedule so they did not both attend the same training and it became a simple fact that both boys could not be invited to dinner on the same night.

The only person who seemed obliviously unaware of the drama leading up to the event was Reina, who flitted from day to day as if she walked on clouds. Let her be oblivious. She spent far too much time with far too much knowledge. For her to have too little was a welcome reprieve.

Meanwhile, across the sea, the storm raged over Niflheim with a gradual swelling that Regis could feel all the way in Lucis. Though the skies were sunny and clear over Insomnia, if he pressed his palms to the cold glass of the Citadel windows he could almost feel the vibration of power in the air.

Crea looked curiously at him when he did this.

"He is preparing for the final push," Regis said without looking at her. "The Fulgarian gathers all power to him and rains hell upon Niflheim before his departure."

The swelling of power went on for a full day before it burst. The waves could be felt washing over Lucis—at least by those few present with the ability to sense them. The sensation stopped Regis mid-step.

"Regis? What is it?" Clarus stepped in front of him, as if he could shield him from this.

Yet it was Ravus who answered while Regis struggled to put his thoughts in order: "The Fulgarian. He is gone."

"No," Regis said. "Not gone."

Though he hadn't known the words to be true previously, he felt them now.

"The Fulgarian remains tied to Eos via a single thread. One He has tied to me," Regis said. "He has placed his life in my hands and his promise of loyalty at my back."

Even now, Regis could sense the faint and dormant power of the Fulgarian at his call. When they had spoken over the city, he had intended only to banish the Astral. Instead he had gained an ally more powerful than he had ever dreamed. One wiser than himself, perhaps, who had noted that if He truly left Eos, Regis would have been deprived of his gifts. That might have mattered little, had Regis expected to encounter only as much resistance as Ramuh had offered from every remaining Astral. Alas, such was not the case, for Bahamut still remained on Eos.

And the Draconian had far from forgotten Regis' transgressions.

On the night before Reina was due to be betrothed to Ravus, Bahamut summoned Regis to the In Between. Summoned, perhaps, was too gentle a word. He dragged Regis out from under the heavy blanket of sleep and into the empty In Between. Whereas the realm Reina shaped—the banks of the Black River—was almost comfortable and inviting save for the eerie black water, the place that Bahamut brought him to was unearthly to the extreme. No hint of the physical world existed here: though the blackness was tinged with swirls of color in blue and white, there was no sense of direction, no up nor down, no ground to place his feet upon. He floated, weightless and motionless, with no sense of autonomy. A fly caught in a trap.

Bahamut was before him—so great in stature that Regis' entire body was dwarfed by only the Draconian's face.

Regis Lucis Caelum. Wilt thou persist upon thy perilous path, despite all the suffering done unto thy people?

He spoke as if he had not noticed that Ramuh had turned against him and now stood at Regis' back. As if all had gone according to his plan. Yet even with the Fulgarian beside him, Regis could not hope to best the Draconian. He was well versed in these games.

"I will persist in my quest to end the darkness. And without sacrifice of my children."

Thou hast weathered the storm, Bahamut said. Thou shall not remain erect while the sea crashes over thy lands.

And with his ominous warning thus flung, he released Regis from the In Between, as one might drop a soiled rag into the bin, and Regis fell back into consciousness. He woke sharply in his bed, without the grogginess that usually accompanies waking, and reached for his phone.

"Regis? What is it?" Clarus' voice answered after only two rings.

"The Hydraean," Regis said. "She is coming to Lucis."

It took some thirty minutes for Clarus to return to the Citadel, by which time Regis had assembled the rest of his retinue and called a few members of the council from their beds. Though Crea would doubtless be cross when she woke and found they had all been at work since the mid-night hours, Regis elected merely to leave word for her when she did wake. She would have enough to contend with once the sun rose, what with the betrothal ceremony on the horizon.

"Do we have any notion of when she will arrive?" Clarus asked.

"No. Nor are we likely to have any clue, unless Reina happens to Dream of this event tonight," Regis said.

"But you could ask her to look for it tomorrow night," Cor said.

"I could," Regis agreed. "But she Dreams poorly when distracted. In any case, I fear we will not even have so much time as that. That the Draconian gave me this warning bodes ill. I daresay he would not do so unless he felt it was already too late for us to prepare."

"Then what're we all out of bed for?" Cid asked.

"To make good use of what little time we do have," Regis said. "We must act under the assumption that the Hydraean may awaken at any moment. And furthermore, it would be best if we do not assume I shall be able to speak reason to her before she is able to act."

A hush followed his words as the reality of the situation sunk in. And once it had, the flurry came. For what remained of the night, they worked ceaselessly, calling more and more workers and officials from their beds as plans progressed and more aid was needed. By the time the sun rose, only a fraction of their plans were in place. But it was, at least, a fraction better than it had been the night before.

Crea arrived not long after full morning had come and Regis stepped aside to speak with her.

"What's going on?" She asked. "Avun only said you had left your rooms at three in the morning and hadn't returned."

In as short order as he was able, he explained to her the situation.

"I suppose it is out of the question to postpone the betrothal ceremony?" Regis asked.

"I'm afraid so. There are far too many people and preparations involved for it to be called off in time."

"And I suppose it is also out of the question to excuse my absence?"

"Quite."

Why he was wasting time asking questions he already knew the answer to was anyone's guess. But a part of him had been hoping that Crea would pull some miracle out of thin air. As she often did when he was up to his ears in trouble.

"I'll send Avun to make sure you're on time," she said as she turned away.

"And you?" Regis called after her.

She paused. "Someone ought to be with Reina, if you're intending to be absent until the ceremony."

Regis pursed his lips. Reina. Well. She would be well distracted while getting ready and it really was better if she had someone with her who knew about hair and dresses and makeup and all such things. She would hardly miss him.

Hopefully.

"Send her my apologies," Regis said. "And my promises that I will see her soon."

With that they parted ways, each to attend to their own duties. Perhaps the pre-betrothal preparations that Crea went to were quite as frantic as the preparations for the coming of another Astral, but doubtless the consequences for failure were less dire.

The hours sped by. Too soon, Avun was pulling him away and tugging a comb through his hair. He would, perhaps, not look his absolute best in time for the ceremony, but he would, at least, be in attendance. And dressed. That was the most anyone could ask of him today.

The betrothal was to occur atop the Citadel steps, where half of Insomnia could gather in the drive and stretch out beyond the gates and the other half could see the whole thing in high definition on television. Already the main Citadel grounds were overflowing with people—Regis could see them through every window he passed—and a whole series of cameras and microphones were set up across the stairs.

Inside the Citadel—crowded into the entry hall—everyone due to be involved in the ceremony was gathered. Plus some extras. The crowds split as Regis approached with Avun at his heels. By rights his whole retinue should have been in attendance, but he had left them to handle more pressing matters. Doubtless the press would note the absence of not only the king's retinue but also several key members of the council. Let them notice. Speculation on their absence would harm them less in the long run than their presence would.

"You're late," Crea said as he joined her in the main entryway. "If you weren't Reina's only surviving parent, we might have started without you."

If only.

"Where is she?" Regis asked.

Crea nodded toward the double doors, where a knot of young court women were gathered. He looked again and his eyes registered what his brain hadn't: Iris and Cindy dressed as proper Lucian belles, pressed close to a young woman who—though logic told him must be Reina, his mind refused to recognize as such.

Regis turned to Crea, keeping his features and tone carefully neutral. "She is only twelve."

"Arguably." Crea shrugged one shoulder. "Either way, she is maturing fast."

That much no one could argue against. She looked at least sixteen. Perhaps it was the dress or the way she had her hair pinned up or the precisely applied makeup she wore. Or perhaps it wasn't her appearance at all, but her bearing. Either way, it was difficult to believe this was the same child who had, but a few weeks before, forced him to carry her from her bed to his lounge because she could not stand to be parted from him.

Crea nudged him covertly. "Go on! She's waiting for you. Everyone is."

Regis took a few halting steps forward. The first were more difficult. But he found his feet were still attached to his legs and his legs—in some distant way—to his mind and he managed to put one in front of the other until he had crossed the foyer and reached his daughter.

"Apologies for making you wait, my dear."

She turned and looked up at him, releasing the hands of her friends as he spoke. In the smile that spread across her features, he could see his daughter—however much older she had become overnight, she was still his little princess.

But the smile faded too soon.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" She asked.

Oh but to have a child who was blissfully unaware. Sometimes he could not help but find Noctis' complete inability to notice when anything was out of the ordinary refreshing.

It was no use lying to her.

"I fear so," Regis said, keeping his voice low in the crowded space. "Yet Crea has convinced me that the ceremony must continue, nevertheless."

A dark figure stepped out of the shadows behind Reina. He hadn't noticed Crowe leaning against the arch before she moved, yet she must have been there all along.

"Is she in danger?" Crowe asked.

"No more than anyone else," Regis said.

Although, when the Fulgarian had awoken, she and Noctis had both sensed it.

"She may, however, experience some discomfort—a headache, perhaps—that is your sign that trouble is brewing."

Regis glanced around the room. Noctis stood with Gladio and Ignis—they would see that he was kept safe if the worst came to pass during the ceremony—and both Ravus and Lunafreya stood with Sylva. Now that he laid eyes on them, it occurred to him that all three were likely to experience much the same thing. Well. They would simply have to deal with such things on their own terms. Regis had no time to offer more warning than the significant look he shot to Sylva.

Perhaps he was being an alarmist. Perhaps the Hydraean would not come to Insomnia for days yet, or perhaps—worse yet—they had prepared entirely incorrectly and she would awaken elsewhere on Lucis' coast. But somehow Regis doubted that. In any case, it was better to be over prepared than under. Not that they were in any danger of the former. At the moment, he would have classified the preparation of Insomnia as woefully insufficient.

"Well," Regis said, calling his mind back to the tasks at hand. "Are you prepared?"

Despite the concern he had stirred in her, a broad smile broke out on Reina's face. She nodded.

"Then let us begin." He held his arm out to her and signalled the attendant at the door as she took it.

As the great double doors to the Citadel cracked open, a note went up outside. From the foyer, they could hear the rumble of the crowd quieting down. Regis led the way forward with Reina on his arm and all behind them others fell into place.

Given that there had not been such a ceremony in Insomnia for a few generations at least, and that none present had so much as observed one, let alone participated, it rolled along surprisingly smoothly. They began with the initial procession, and though they went no farther than the steps beyond the doors, it took nearly thirty minutes for everyone to assemble and come to stand in their places: The royal family, plus associated retainers stood to one side of the steps, each of them filing out slowly and separately. Regis noted the brief look of panic among the organizers as they realized none of the king's retinue was in attendance and reordered the others to fill out the space more evenly. When they were through, it almost looked intentional.

Then came the Nox Fleurets side to fill out the other side of the staircase. Though they had not so many people to fill the same space, there were some few honored Tenebraean guests that had arrived for the sake of the ceremony.

Last but not least came Lucis' ruling council. Again, their ranks were unexpectedly sparse and the ubiquitous crew of event planners scurried among them to even them out.

Throughout all, came the steady thrumming at the back of Regis' mind.

Initially he thought it nothing more than the cheering of the crowd—the crowd that filled every inch of available space across the Citadel drive and spilled out through the open gates, packing the streets well beyond. But as the minutes passed, the pounding grew more distinct. Not the steady chant of an eager audience, but the building power of an awakening Astral.

The Hydraean was coming.

Would she be forced to travel across the sea from Altissia to reach them and, if so, how long would that take? Could they complete the ceremony before she arrived in Insomnia? Or would it be wiser to halt the ceremony now?

Tens of thousands of people stood out in the open and Insomnia sat upon an island. They were not prepared for the wave that Leviathan would bring upon them. But if they halted matters now, perhaps there would be enough time to clear the streets at the very least.

And yet, calling off the ceremony had consequences of its own.

He had been granted a full night of warning before Ramuh's awakening. If Leviathan was at all similar, they would have at least eight hours before she awoke fully and perhaps longer before she reached Insomnia. That was sufficient time to complete the betrothal and see the streets cleared without causing a panic.

If Leviathan's awakening was similar to Ramuh's.

He glanced around to take in the reactions of the others. Reina had noticed nothing—which was unlike her—and she smiled, distracted, across at Ravus. Ravus, also, seemed occupied in the moment. Noctis was rubbing his temples, shaking his head at something Ignis was saying to him—was that a headache caused by the Hydraean's awakening, or the tedium of the afternoon? Lunafreya stood quite still with her hands clasped before her, but she wore a furrow on her brow. Sylva held her eyes fixed on the sky, yet she lowered her gaze to meet his almost as if she had sensed his eyes upon her. She lifted her eyebrows a fraction of an inch—a mild expression that might have meant anything or nothing.

He could speak to none of them. Not as they stood before cameras and microphones, presented to all of Lucis. And his chance to interrupt the ceremony was wasting away as well, as the magistrate stepped forward to begin.

Needless to say, Regis was not as attentive as he ought to have been at his daughter's betrothal. He kept half an eye on Sylva and half on sky, all the while fighting to appear somber and focused. Had he been able to put eyes on the sea, he would have. The fact that he couldn't only troubled him all the more.

The pounding was growing worse. Rapidly worse. To the point where Regis fought to keep from wincing against the pressure and Reina's hand tightened on his arm. He looked down to find her leaning, face pale and drawn, against him. While he had deliberated, the magic of the day had been stolen out from under her nose.

Regis leaned closer under pretense of adjusting her coronet and whispered in her ear. "Are you alright, my dear?"

Her voice, when it came, was tight and strained. "I feel as if the whole world was pressing in on me. Crushing me."

An apt analogy.

Not far away, Noctis was standing with his eyes shut tight and his palms pressed against closed lids. Ignis was hovering at his elbow, looking ever more alarmed.

Regis was not the only one to have noticed. Ravus was watching Reina was growing concern on his features. Sylva caught Regis' eye and mouthed a single word:

Hydraean.

They were not reaching the end of this ceremony. Not even if Reina had been of a mind to continue, which he now very much doubted she was.

"Your Royal Majesty, if you would step forward?"

The voice of the magistrate summoned him forth from indecision. He stepped forward.

"Queen Sylva, I must beg your pardon. In light of brewing events this ceremony must be postponed," Regis said.

A shocked hush fell over the crowd. Sylva nodded, tight-lipped, and laid her hand on Ravus' arm.

"Yes, you're right," she said. "This is not time for merry making."

The magistrate stood gaping at them both. Regis turned to banish the crowd, but before he could utter so much as a single word, a wave of power crashed into him, sending him staggering, disoriented. Somewhere, Reina cried out. Several other voices shouted in alarm—Ignis, Gladiolus, Iris, Ravus—but he could put together no coherent words for several seconds. When at last his brain was in working order, the first thoughts through his mind were the first uttered beside him.

"She's awake," Reina whispered.

The sound of a great crashing wave came from the north followed by an unearthly roar.

She was awake. And she was in Cavaugh.