Day 41:
Dear Father— he read —I cannot tell you not to worry. You will, regardless. All I can ask is that you do not hate me. Understand: this must be done. Of us all, I am best equipped to do it. You must know this.
I have gone to claim my heritage and remove a tyrant from the world. Bahamut must fall if we are to have any chance at peace. If he is allowed to live I have no doubt he will make good on his threats—to end both your life and Noctis' in pursuit of his so-called justice. So I have gone to secure us peace.
This is not, as you may believe, a reckless exchange of my life for yours and Noctis'. I intend to return. And I will, once you are both safe.
I love you more than anything in the world. If you grow to hate me through this, I would bear your hatred, knowing you were safe and whole; I would become the ghost who protects the Citadel, unseen but always present. Just as I was for all of Lucis in my Dream.
With all my heart,
Your loving daughter
Regis clenched his hand on the note. His eyes fell shut, his chin against his chest. She had done it. She had left Insomnia on her own to hunt a god. He had never thought his daughter foolhardy before now. But the blame was at least partially his. While he had been occupied making plans with Noctis and seeing that she was kept out of these matters, it seemed she had been making plans of her own.
But this. This was too far. How could she run off on her own, like some spoiled child running from a future she didn't wish to face? Perhaps she had done things that way during her Dream, but that was not how they were done in his kingdom.
Every monarch had a retinue. It wasn't for show. It wasn't for playing cards in camp late at night when they should have been sleeping. It was for pulling him back from the edge when he strayed too near the drop. Because every Caelum, left to his own devices, would take that leap.
This was his fault. He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked back at Reina's note. When they had been children, he had been so focused on giving Noctis what he needed that he had not even stopped to consider that Reina might need the same—a retinue to call her own, not Noctis', because she was not her brother and his friends would never be as dear to her as to him. Even when they had grown older and Regis had recognized that she had no friends of her own, had known it was dangerous that she counted him as her best friend, he hadn't done a thing.
He reached for his phone. It was late already, but she scarcely slept. Perhaps she would answer.
Perhaps she wouldn't.
He paced the length of his bedroom as he counted the rings. If her phone had been dead or turned off it would have gone straight to voicemail. If she hadn't wanted him to contact her, she would have turned her phone off. It stood to reason then, that she would answer if she was able.
She did. "Father."
In that toneless tone, which told him nothing about what she was thinking underneath.
"Reina." Angry or not, he was relieved to hear her voice. She was capable and she wielded the Ring of the Lucii. She could take care of herself. But she could also step into an impossible situation, like attempting to fight a god on her own.
Silence stretched while he waited for her to say something else. She didn't. Perhaps she was waiting for him.
Her patience broke first. "Are you angry with me?"
"Yes," he said levelly. "Though not as angry as I am with myself. This is more my fault than yours."
"It isn't your fault, Father."
"No? Do you truly believe that, had I been a better father to you, you would still have made the same choice?"
"I don't know."
"Neither do I." He sighed and allowed the subject to pass. "You must know that Noctis and I have been preparing for a conflict with the Astrals," Regis said. "Why did you not come to us instead?"
"I didn't want to endanger you."
"So instead you chose to endanger yourself by taking matters into your own hands and venturing forth to challenge a god on your own?"
"I'm not alone. I meant to only take Ardyn, but Cor followed after."
"Cor?"
"He came after me and nearly killed himself sliding down the Rock of Ravatogh."
For a brief moment, he understood why she might want to keep even someone like Cor locked away where he could not fall into trouble. He felt a spark of anger that Cor had known she was gone early enough to chase after her but had not thought to let Regis know. It was quickly doused by relief that she wasn't as alone as he had thought. Cor would ground her. He had no qualms with beating sense into Caelum skulls.
But her other comment, buried in this confession, snagged his attention.
"And Ardyn?"
"He's with me, too."
"Do you trust him?"
She didn't answer right away. That was telling in and of itself.
Eventually she said, "That is a question without an easy answer, Father."
"Then give me a difficult answer."
"I trust him to behave as I expect. I trust him to stand by my side and aid in defeating Bahamut."
So they were playing a game of conditional trust. Very well. Two could play.
"Do you trust him to keep you alive?"
"Yes."
"Do you trust him to protect Lucis?"
"As much as I would trust a cat to protect a mouse."
"So his loyalties lie with you and you only?" Not necessarily a bad trait. Not necessarily a good one either.
"I don't know if loyalty is the right word. Devotion, maybe."
Regis sighed. She had yet to convince him that this was a worthwhile companion for her. Perhaps she never would, but he had little choice. The Starscourge incarnate, indeed.
"Do you trust him to pull you back from the edge?"
"That depends what edge we are talking about. On the whole, he is more likely to push me off than pull me away."
"Reina, you are not doing wonders for convincing me of his virtue."
"That's for the best. He has very few."
"Reina," Regis chided.
That may have been a laugh—short and sharp—but it was difficult to tell without seeing her face.
"You want to know why I chose to take him with me. Aside from the obvious—that he and his magic will be great assets in the battle to come—the simple truth is that I like him. He makes me laugh when there is nothing left to laugh about. Yes, he tests my balance by coming up behind me as I stand on the edge and giving me a shove, but when I walk away it is with greater conviction and a diminished desire to stand so near the edge.
"If I stood atop the Citadel looking down, he would whisper 'jump.' When I look back and say I was a monster, he agrees with me. And perhaps what we really need is someone to call our bluff. You told me once that the most important thing Clarus did was question your decisions and beliefs. Perhaps he does much the same thing, if in a somewhat more devious way."
It would have been easier to believe he was a villain who needed to be separated from Reina at all costs. She had, however, made valid points in his favor. And she liked him. Even if Regis didn't agree, that was nearly as important as the rest.
"Reina, my dear, I must trust your judgement. But never forget there is a great darkness in that man."
Adagium or not, something about him instilled unease in others.
"In me as well."
"That is what worries me, my dear. I would hope—if nothing else—that balance will be maintained between those forces within you. For that I must insist you never isolate yourself with him again."
"Cor is here."
"And that is a great comfort to me. But I fear it may not be enough."
"I'll be fine. We'll get through this and I'll bring Cor home safely after. Trust me, Father."
He sighed. "That, I fear, I can no longer do, my dear."
