Under other circumstances, it would have been immensely rewarding to watch the discomfort with which Emperor Aldercapt greeted them. He was well-guarded, of course, as any halfway decent politician was, but his fingers tapped an anxious pattern on the arm of his chair and he tugged at his beard as he stared into the distance. Gone was the emperor assured that he had come to conquer. Instead, he had come face to face with the possibility that he would not walk away with the ring and crystal—indeed, not walk away at all.
But Regis' focus was elsewhere and he did not allow himself to feel satisfied by this momentary lead. General Glauca was still unaccounted for and, while the crystal and ring were both well-guarded, brute force was not the only path to success for Niflheim.
Everything proceeded by the book. Remarkably enough. Though the emperor's countenance suggested he had expected something to occur by then, they were left standing before the treaty that neither had any intention of signing. An awkward pause stretched before them. In the silence of the room, they both studied the carefully worded pages set on the table and waited. No one moved or breathed. Regis watched Aldercapt's hands as they twitched toward his gun belt. All it took was one little twist of pressure and the whole thing snapped.
Clarus drew steel first—"They have attacked the crystal chamber!"—and nearly before the words were out of his mouth, everyone else in the room had weapons drawn and at the ready.
Regis reached for a handful of lightning and held his palm outstretched, prepared to release it upon the emperor. It came more readily than it had the night before. He shaped it to his will and held it tight.
"You are too late, Iedolas," he said. "Your men will never break through the army that stands between them and the crystal. Stand down now and let us avoid this bloodshed."
"You show your hand too early, King Regis. We have resources, yet."
Let it never be said that Regis had not given the imperials a fair chance to throw down their weapons. Today the war ended, one way or another.
He stared down the barrel of Aldercapt's gun and felt the lightning in his palm strain to fly free. Even with the pretense of peace gone, they stood at an impasse. For the moment.
On the opposite end of the hall, the doors slammed open. Eyes turned, imperial and Lucian alike as the Crownsguards poured in, but those who had been expecting it—Regis, Clarus, and the handful of Crownsguards disguised among the ranks of diplomats and council members—took the momentary distraction as the opportunity that it was.
Regis' lightning lept. In a crack, a dark scorch mark marred Aldercapt's white robe and his gun flew from his fingers. Clarus' sword bridged the gap across the room and landed in someone's neck. Gunfire split the din—first from the Crownsguards, then from the imperials.
He threw another handful of lightning, thrusting Aldercapt across the room with the weight behind it. The emperor crashed into the far wall and fell to the ground. For the first time in years, Regis reached for his blade and found it waiting, just on the other side of reality. It jumped at his call with a flash of blue. How long had it been since he had stood in true battle and felt a man, rather than an invalid? Thirteen years, at least. The weight of his sword in his hand was a comfort.
The Crownsguards had flooded the room. A spray of imperial bullets scattered in his direction. The only barrier Regis had held in fifteen years was the Wall. He had no time to remember how it was done. He threw out his hand and the magic leapt to his call, coalescing into a solid hemisphere of magic; the bullets cracked harmlessly against the outside. He let out a breath. Life or death dragged long-forgotten skills to the forefront of his mind. But his men weren't impervious. Even through the glitter of his magic he watched them fall. He gathered up another handful of lightning, eyes flicking across the battle beyond his barrier. Could he strike only the imperials without harming his own men? Did it matter? If he did nothing they would fall to imperial bullets.
What caught his eye, however, was not the Crownsguards who fell in defense of king and country, nor the imperials who struck them down. It was, rather, the imperials who did not.
The imperial chancellor stood in the center of the commotion, unconcerned with the whole ordeal, save as a spectacle for his entertainment. After last night, Regis had no idea what to make of the man—never had he expected aid from a snake like Ardyn Izunia, but he was beginning to understand that there was more to him than met the eye. Stranger still, however, was the imperial high commander; Ravus Nox Fleuret put his back against the far wall, letting his countrymen shield him from return fire, but he, himself, loosed no bullets and only held his sword at his side in a defensive stance.
Both had danced with Reina the night before.
But of course. She had seen every threat that Niflheim brought to Insomnia and she had dismantled them one by one. Some were simple—send the Crownsguards to raid the rebels' hole—and others less so—split the Kingsglaive in two and tear the bond of his magic from half of them. But for others she had taken a more subtle approach, using neither fire nor steel against, but some brand of diplomacy and bribery and Gods knew what else. She had done it in plain sight; anything else would have aroused suspicion. And she had pulled two formidable imperials from their ranks and pushed them to the side. Regis wasn't willing to count on their aid, but he appreciated their lack of antagonism, if only for the moment.
It all made very little difference when the window overhead shattered and the armored form of General Glauca landed behind Regis with a crash loud enough to pierce the sounds of battle.
So he was not with others at the crystal, after all.
Regis turned to face him, releasing his sword to free his hand. He could feel the pull of a dozen strands—the glaives of the Armiger waiting to be called once more—and he meant to put them to use. The last time he had faced Glauca he had been a younger man, intent on protecting his children above all else. Though he was old now, he had no liabilities. No children to protect. And fleeing was not an option.
"Regis!" Clarus' voice seemed to echo, even above the sounds of battle.
"Call the retreat, Clarus," Regis ordered.
Drautos would kill them all; no Crownsguard stood a chance against him. Indeed, even without the weight of the Wall on his shoulders, Regis stood very little chance, either. But he could hold him back for a little while at least. And then… well.
He only hoped Reina would forgive him.
"Drautos." Regis stood his ground. From behind him came the scuffling of dozens of Crownsguards fleeing from the path of inevitable destruction. "How unfortunate that my daughter showed you mercy when she might have ended your life."
"Mercy?" His voice boomed, deep and distorted—unrecognizable as belonging to Titus Drautos at all. "You are more of a fool than I thought, to know your own daughter so little."
The mask of his Magitek armor melted back, as if made of liquid that could reform at will. Beneath was Drautos' face—or some semblance of it. Half the skin was red and blistered—burned as if from a fire. What little had been spared from the fire was bruised and broken, split and bloodied.
Against his will, Regis recoiled. What in the name of Eos had happened to him?
"Death would have been a mercy, if she truly meant to repeat this treatment every day for ten years." Without the mask, he spoke in his own voice—albeit a little more hoarse than usual. "Count it a blessing that she only managed one; now I only have one to pay back to her."
He spat a mouthful of blood and then his mask reformed over his face. Regis refused to think about the meaning behind those words. He clenched his hand on his cane and squared his shoulders.
"You have come to the wrong place then. My daughter is well away from here."
"I did not say I meant to pay it back to her." Before Regis had a moment to register what he had said, Drautos lunged.
Regis threw out his hand, calling the Armiger for the first time in twelve years. A dozen blades cut through the physical realm, catching Drautos' blade and holding, even as he strained against them. The strength it took to hold them in place was more mental than physical, but it dragged at Regis' body as well as his mind. And he knew full well his strength would give out before Drautos' did.
A blade swung from behind Drautos, dragging over the metal of his armor and throwing sparks. Drautos shoved the Armiger away, forcing Regis back a step, and turned to grab Clarus by the front of his robes.
"Clarus—!" Where had he even come from?
Drautos hurled him across the room. He struck the wall with a groan, but Regis had no time to check if he was still alive; Drautos rounded on him before Clarus hit the ground. This time Regis threw up a barrier and Drautos' blade struck the outside. He had never been so sharply aware of the finite power of his shields as he was now.
There was no reasoning with Drautos. Not if all he wanted was to inflict pain on Reina by harming Regis. And there was no holding against the strength of his blows. He lifted his sword once more and brought it crashing down on Regis' barrier. This time the shield shattered beneath his blade.
Regis recoiled, but not far enough. He was still within range when Drautos seized his arm and jerked him off balance. His cane clattered to the floor, his knee buckled under the weight, but Drautos kept a vice grip on his arm.
"Father!"
Reina.
Damn.
Damn them all—the Gods, the imperials, Drautos, and even himself for feeling one instant of relief when he heard her voice because right now she was the only person in Insomnia who could stand against Drautos and win.
But it was too late.
She was only going to watch him die again.
Drautos dragged him upright and Regis found himself looking down the length of the treaty room, pinned against an armored chest with a sword across his throat. His chest heaved. He couldn't catch his breath. He might have been standing on his own, but if he had been forced to take a step, he would have fallen.
They weren't alone. The Crownsguards had withdrawn from Drautos but not from the room—they bound still-breathing imperials and offered aid to their fallen comrades, dragging survivors away from the fighting, though now some watched the spectacle with uncertainty. Clarus lay on the floor where he had fallen. Regis stared at him long enough to see the rise and fall of his chest. He breathed a silent prayer of gratitude.
And there, in the thrown-open doors, was Reina with her naginata in hand and the Ring of the Lucii blazing on her finger. For the first time since she had returned to Insomnia, he saw on her face what had been there so often the past few weeks—
Fear.
"Forgive me, my dear." Regis shut his eyes because he couldn't bear to watch her see this. Again. After ten years of living with it and never recovering. After two frantic days of trying to prevent it. By his own failings, he would die anyway.
She was never going to be alright. He understood that now. He would have given anything to spare her from this.
But it was too late.
"Little Princess." The affectionate moniker that Regis used for her was mocking in Drautos' Magitek-distorted voice. "You're just in time."
"If you kill him again, I will never let you die," Reina said. "I will feed you Starscourge and taint and your ten years of suffering will stretch for an eternity and you will never know peace."
Regis hadn't known that so much vitriol existed within his daughter's entire soul. But when he looked at her now, any doubts he had about the truth of Drautos' words were erased. She had tortured him. She had meant to do so every day for ten years to pay back the living nightmare she had endured.
"You cannot beat me," Reina said. "I can crush you with one hand, and as soon as your shield is gone, I will."
As if to prove her point, the ring flared to life on her finger. It glowed blue and the magic cut across her skin, dancing and flickering and waiting to be used. She should have struck and been done with it. Regis shut his eyes and gritted his teeth.
"Then I will make you a deal, Princess," Drautos said. "The ring… for your father's life."
Regis' eyes snapped open.
No. Gods no.
"Reina—!" Regis' fingers dug into the armored hand that held him in place. "Lucis needs you."
Lucis needed her to have the ring and he was not more important than that.
Reina's eyes flicked between Drautos and Regis.
"Choose wisely, Princess." Drautos pressed his blade more firmly against Regis' throat, eliminating all chance of further words.
She released her naginata.
No. Please, Reina.
"I'm sorry, Father," she said.
And she pulled the ring from her finger.
AN: Okay, but did we really think she would do anything different? Come on.
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