And he had been thinking all the action was through until the signing. Of course, given that he was no longer guaranteed to see Insomnia go down in flames (there was still a remote possibility that it would happen anyway, irrespective of his own part in the matter), it wasn't strictly necessary that he stay at all. But really. Where was the fun in walking away? Besides, she might do something interesting. Again.
Sure enough, the little Dreamer delivered unto him entertainment to pass the long hours between that intriguing dinner and all hell breaking loose. Now she wanted the bond of the scourge. The mark of the Accursed. Doubtless he would have granted it to her no matter what she offered in return—the fun, after all, was in discovering what she was willing to offer and, of course, what she would do with it. Like passing a knife to a child who whined for it.
But with that. That delicious proposition…
Why, how could he possibly resist?
He was even beginning to hope that she lived long enough to see her end of the bargain through.
So he gave her his gift while Lapcat and Daddy-dearest wore looks like he was deflowering the princess in front of them. As if he would do that.
He would have needed so much more time.
And then Noctis arrived. Ah, Noct. The Chosen King and his loyal retainers and—oh, but that look that she wore!—Lady Lunafreya. From what followed—little more than a series of significant looks and heavy gazes with some naive trust from the Chosen One—Ardyn gathered that Lady Lunafreya didn't like the little Dreamer very much. Oh dear. Such a shame. So the question was…
What did he have to do to turn that dislike into open hostility?
When the little Dreamer left, Ardyn followed first while everyone else was still sitting on their thumbs and looking a bit lost.
He caught her up easily—her legs were ever so tiny—and fell into step beside her. "You don't mind if I tag along, do you?"
"I doubt I could stop you if I wanted to." It wasn't entirely evident from her expression or intonation whether or not she did want to, but one thing was perfectly clear:
She knew him very well.
He studied her, rather than watching where he was walking. It would have rather ruined his éclat if he ran into a wall, but he was willing to take that risk for a shot at unnerving her.
It didn't work.
Unfortunate.
"Do you know, little Dreamer, you're beginning to intrigue me."
"Only beginning? How disappointing. And here I thought I had you thoroughly snared." She looked straight ahead; he could feel the pull of her magic—through his—as they walked. She was rounding them up. Every daemon in the Citadel, bound and tied and drawn to her irresistibly.
The Siren call.
Ardyn's smile deepened. He dropped behind her and cut around to her other side, just so he could lean over and whisper in her ear.
"I think I'd like to get to know you."
"You liked me a great deal," she said.
"How much?" He fell into step on her other side. It was hard to walk slow enough for such little legs, but he managed.
And…
She smiled.
She looked him dead in the eye and positively smirked.
And that was the only answer she gave.
Curiouser and curiouser.
The rest of their little parade came along eventually, but it took stopping on the Citadel steps for Daddy-dearest to catch up at his hobbling pace. Someone give the man a wheelchair. Was Ardyn the only person with any empathy, anymore?
Outside, the beginnings of her work was visible. Dark figures crept and crawled and clawed their way down the street to converge on her. Inside, the daemons were doing much the same; they skittered down the walls and through every open door, and gathered in the entry hall before lurching toward her.
She was doing better than he had expected. He really ought to have expected more from her. She was nothing if not full of surprises, it seemed.
He rather liked it.
All around them, her company drew steel. Lapcat stepped in front of Daddy-dearest.
"Why are they all coming here?" The blond one asked. What was his name? Chocobo-head?
"Because I called them," said the little Dreamer. "They won't harm you. I control them."
Judging by the looks they gave each other, Ardyn was guessing she hadn't shared that tidbit of information with them before this exact moment.
"Beware the poisoned chalice, Your Highness," Lady Lunafreya said.
Oh, but what was this? An opportunity to stir the pot?
"But of course!" Ardyn put his hands on the little Dreamer's shoulders and leaned over her, reaching one hand out toward the daemons that gathered in the square and just brushing his fingers over the strands of magic she held. "What would you do… if I took them from you…?"
He could practically feel the tension radiating from the others.
But not the little Dreamer.
"You won't," she said. "Because then you wouldn't get to see my next trick."
It was infuriating how right she was.
He forgave her, because the tricks she had pulled out of her sleeves thus far had been worth it.
This one was, too.
She stretched out her hand as he dropped his. He could feel her hold on his magic as she seized the daemons in the street and pulled. She dragged at them until every strand to every daemon snapped and broke, cutting lifeless bodies from the power that animated them. The daemons wasted away—just so much miasma—and the power flooded into her.
He hadn't even known that a human could absorb a daemon. In fact—
She turned, ignoring the shocked looks on the faces of her friends and family, and did the same with the daemons inside the Citadel. With each one she absorbed, her power swelled and her range increased. She threw her net wider over the city and called more daemons, and when those came she consumed them and stretched farther still until all of Insomnia fell within her grasp.
Ardyn stepped in front of her—not to be in the way, but just enough to see her face. He had to see—had to know—because it shouldn't have been possible.
And it wasn't.
He watched as she absorbed the power from the daemons—that was the Starscourge itself she was pulling inside herself. And, sure enough, he watched the scourge take root, spreading and tainting until her veins ran black beneath fair skin and the excess dripped from her eyes like inky tears and ran down her face. When she was through—when not a single daemons moved within the city—she took all of that scourge and coiled it up in her core, where it sat humming and waiting to be used—her power, her plaything.
For a moment all he could do was stare at her. She had just absorbed every daemon inside the city, multiplying her own power tenfold. She held the ring and—if he wasn't very much mistaken—the Wall. So she had taken everything she had—everything she was—and thrown it away for a chance to protect this city and her family.
Bit by bit, as his brain began to work again, his smile returned.
"You really do mean to sacrifice everything for them, don't you?" He asked.
She glanced at him. He knew the answer before she spoke, but she responded anyway. "Anything necessary."
They stood on the steps in silence as the visible signs of the scourge faded from her face. Ardyn stood with her, apart, and he threw his head back and laughed.
"Oh, you are a treasure, little Dreamer. I'll be looking forward to your next surprise."
And he turned, passed her little audience, and waltzed back across the castle to be in his room when the others woke. He would stick around for the final act of this play. The question was: would it be tragedy or comedy?