Following the excitement in the In Between, it was difficult to convince Reina to take to her bed once more. Not least of all because he felt unjustified giving instructions to the young woman who had single handedly bridged an impossible gap and secured a treaty that might yet save not only her brother's life, but the lives of all those in Lucis and beyond.
It was difficult to perceive her as a twelve year old, even once they returned to the physical world and she was—to all appearances—little more than a child. There was a depth to her he had not seen before. Or else had not allowed himself to see before. From afar it was easy to wonder how a child had captured the attention of a young man like Ravus. Perhaps he had merely seen at first what Regis had been denying all along.
Reina was not a child. She had not been for some while.
He found himself very much at a loss for words as he sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her.
"You have done an extraordinary job, my dear," he managed at last. It felt woefully insufficient.
Once, his approval might have been the most precious reward she could have earned. But no longer. She had not guided him into the In Between, brokered peace between a madman and the brother who had condemned him to endless purgatory, and convinced both to stand together alongside Regis against the last Astral on Eos for the sake of making him proud. Nevertheless, he was.
"Once you said to me that you hoped there would come a day when I could admire your strength without mourning the loss of mine." He smiled down at her, searching for words that might convey some sliver of the emotion he felt. "I think, perhaps, today is that day. For I can say, unequivocally, that you have saved me tonight. And I feel nothing save overwhelming joy at the young woman you have already become, and pride that I, perchance, played some small part in shaping that."
Any response she might have had was swallowed up by the smile that took her face. The tears that welled in her eyes were response enough. He brushed them away and kissed her forehead.
"Now I must ask that you leave the remainder of this task in my hands. You have done exceptional work tonight, and it has grown quite late. Sleep, and trust in me to finish what you have begun," Regis said.
She nodded, still misty-eyed. When he rose to leave her to sweeter dreams, she held onto his hand until he was out of reach. A little part of her was still his little girl. And perhaps she always would be. He could only hope.
Crea awaited him at the door. Once they were both on the other side, he closed it gently and offered her his arm. Gone were the days when Reina and Noctis wanted their room doors open to the hall all night. Even the night lights had disappeared when they had transferred rooms.
They walked in silence to Regis' rooms, though a part of him considered stopping at Crea's instead for tea. It was one thing his rooms lacked.
"I take it you succeeded," Crea said, once they were both seated in his private sitting room.
"No," Regis said. "Indeed, I should have failed utterly if not for Reina."
It was a more difficult story to relate than he had anticipated. In retrospect, there seemed a great deal he did not fully understand. Not only about the agreements that had somehow come to pass, but about his own daughter. That admission, perhaps, beyond anything, was difficult to swallow.
When he had finished, Crea sat in silent contemplation. Though she stared at him, he had the distinct impression that she considered something else entirely.
"I hardly know what to say," she admitted at last. "I understand so little of your magic, let alone Reina's. So my mind comes first to one point: are you going to face the Draconian?"
A subject they had glanced across or tip-toed around for months. And now it was laid squarely before them with no way to bridge the gap, save leap.
"I must," he said.
"In combat?"
"Yes."
She dropped her gaze. Her hands twisted together in her lap until he laid his over them.
"I have come too far to turn back. The only way out now is forward," Regis said. "Too many of my actions have angered the Draconian beyond repair. The only way to end the Starscourge—to end any of this—is to end Bahamut."
"And even if you could turn back, you wouldn't," she said.
"No." For the only other path open to him spelled Noctis' death. Never again would he accept the sacrifice of his children for some greater purpose. Never again would he trust in a higher power. Lucis was in his hands and his alone.
For better or for worse.
"Promise me you'll come back," Crea said.
"Crea… you know I cannot make that promise. There are powers outside of my control in play. While I will always do my utmost to return to you, it may not be my choice to make."
"Perhaps I should ask Reina then."
"Perhaps…"
She looked up. "If she Dreamed you would not return… would you still go?"
A question better left unasked. Now it hung between them, a despicable thing that they both knew the answer to.
"I must," he said.
She shut her eyes. Her chin tipped toward her chest, but not before he could see tears streak down her cheeks.
"Crea…" He took her face in his hands, brushing tears aside, and lifted her gaze to meet his. "You know I must do this. Noctis' life depends upon it."
"I know. I don't know why I asked." Though he held her chin up, she cast her eyes downward. "I don't know what I'd do if you didn't return."
"If I fail, you will not have to worry for long," Regis said. It was a thin comfort, if that.
"But if Bahamut is destroyed despite your…" she stopped short, as if saying the word 'death' would have given it some power over him. She shook her head. "You've taught me so much these past years. I don't think I could ever go back to living as I did before. Outside of the Citadel and everything happening here. Outside of court. Outside of government. Nor could I bring myself to give up Reina and Noctis for a second time."
They were months away from a proper wedding. If all went well, it would come along with peace in the kingdom. And if not…
"You told me once you never wished to rule a kingdom," Regis said. "Do you feel that way still? If the alternative is having no part in it, save as the prince and princess' nanny?"
"If we married now, would the kingdom fall to me in the event of your death?"
"If I willed it. Though you would not be my heir, you might be regent until the crown prince came of age. And you would ever be the guardian of my children, whatever their age."
She shut her eyes and more tears spilled out. He brushed these away while he awaited an answer he wasn't certain would come.
"I'll do it." She opened her eyes. "If you don't return from Angelgard, I will be Noctis' regent until he is old enough."
Regis took her mouth with his and tasted salt on her lips. She threw her arms around his neck, holding him ever closer as if she feared the moment she released him, he would slip away. They remained locked in that desperate embrace for minutes. If it had been hours, it still would have been too little time. When he did break his mouth from hers, he remained near enough that his lips brushed hers as he spoke.
"Then we will be married tonight," he said. "Quietly."
In theory, at least, it should have been difficult to gather both an officiant and a witness at midnight. But the king had ways of getting whatever it was he desired at any time—day or night. And within thirty minutes he stood in his private lounge with an official of the Insomnian court and not one witness but four.
"Strange," Regis noted. "I only recall inviting Clarus."
"That boy can't keep his damn mouth shut," Cid said.
"Would you prefer we leave?" Weskham asked.
Crea touched his arm. "Let them stay. I don't mind."
And so stay they did.
It was certainly the quietest royal wedding in living history. Perhaps the most unconventional, though it was difficult to say what occurred behind closed doors in the Citadel. What was written in records was not always, strictly speaking, the truth. With any luck, none but the seven of them would ever know this had taken place: the public wedding would occur in the summer amid all the necessary pomp and ceremony, and none would be the wiser that it was mere facade.
No rings nor tokens were exchanged. No photographs taken, no formal dress worn, no congratulations given. But a document was signed and witnessed. And then a second document—an addendum to Regis' existing will—was drawn up and sealed. The latter took the better part of an hour, and they were creeping into the bare hours of morning by the time all was settled. When it was, the officiant took his leave, the documents were locked away, and the six remaining members of the party stood about in awkward silence.
"Let us hope it shall never be unsealed," Clarus said at length, to general murmurs of agreement.
"Indeed," Regis said. "And now I return you, my faithful brothers, to your respective beds, homes, and loved ones. I daresay we shall all wish to cherish these remaining quiet hours."
They took the dismissal, filtering out of the room in a line. Doubtless the Crownsguards at his door were wondering at the cause for a midnight meeting with the king's inner circle, but they would be discreet. In their line of work, it was required of them.
Once the door had closed behind Clarus, Regis turned to sweep Crea off her feet. It was not quite the joyous end to a wedding evening that one might imagine, but one made do with what they had. And tonight, that was a desperate embrace in the dark of his rooms as the night rolled away and the morning jettisoned them into the unknown.
Morning found them tangled up together and having slept very little. Less than he ought to have on the dawn before a deadly encounter. Nevertheless, what remained of their time together drained away rapidly.
Breakfast was a trial for all of them. Clarus and the others joined them, though their company held less of the good cheer that he so often associated with them. Regis refused to ask if Reina was subdued because she had Dreamed his death or because she had not Dreamed at all. He didn't want to know the answer. It would come soon enough, whether he knew or not.
Despite the rolling of his stomach, he forced down as much breakfast as he could stand. He would need what strength it could grant him. The others did much the same. For once it was Crea who left her meal untouched as she sat opposite from him, dark eyes haunted in her pale face. When they descended the Citadel steps, she stood at the top looking down, with Reina and Noctis at her sides. They looked for all the world like the same children who had trailed after her for so many years. But they were hardly children anymore. If today went poorly, they would not have that luxury any longer.
Though the others climbed into the Regalia, Regis lingered on the top step to give one final goodbye to his family. His son and daughter. His wife.
"Please come back to us." Though Crea pleaded, her voice was but a whisper, all tears gone.
"By every strength left to me, I shall endeavor to return victorious." He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, the desperate last breath of a man who prepared for a long dive. When at last he broke away, it was with great reluctance. "But if I should not… rule well, my queen."
A single tear streaked down her face. This one he could brush away, even as he released her and stepped back. But it would be the last he could take from her. Any others she would have to face on her own, if it came to that.
She did not reach out to him to stop him from beginning his descent down the steps.
"I love you," she whispered.
"And I love you, Crea. And Noctis. And Reina. I love you all more than anything in the world."
More than his life. And that reminder, more than anything, pulled him away from them. He turned his back and joined the others at the Regalia, hardly daring to look back. Only once he was seated with the door closed could he do so. His family stood still at the top step, holding to each other and staring after him even as the Regalia began to roll down the drive. He kept them in view for as long as he was able: Crea, a statuesque pillar, somehow transformed from a common wet nurse to a queen in the span of a few years; Reina, standing firmly erect, seemed but a fraction of the child she had been not so long ago, while the rest of her was taken up by the young woman who could broker peace between to ancient kings; and Noctis, grasping one of Crea's hand with both of his, and looking more a boy than a teen or crown prince.
He could only pray he would see them again.