{It was never going to be an ordinary day, was it?}
So here we are. Fighting off daemons alongside a blonde gunslinger who keeps tripping over gravity, a tanned yet scarred giant who has a temper as scary as his massive blade, a well-spoken gentleman who complains about the depletion of his coffee most of the time and a prince who could warp to nothing but his overflowing ego. That didn't give it away? Seriously? None of those obvious pointers made you stop, do a 180 and sprint to the nearest haven or Coernix station?
I mean this had to have started somewhere, right? So where did we go wrong?
Ah, yep. I definitely remember. It all started when I met the prince. Why is this considered a bad thing? You'll realise why in a moment but let's start this story not too far back, but not too far forward either.
She sat in the waiting room outside, hands firmly gripping the motorbike helmet in her lap, as people dressed in all kinds rushed around the large room. She's never seen this many people here, let alone them hurried to do errands, but what made her more uneasy was her fellow Glaive that escorted her from the Citadel. He was a well-built man, his hood on to conceal his features as he stood at ease beside her, but she already knew who he was as soon as he greeted her downstairs. The girl wasn't sure why she needed one of His Majesty's soldiers, something about extra security due to the intrusion of private Niflheim spies. I mean, she couldn't blame the King for taking safety measures but, by the way her knuckles were turning red, there was tension in the air that she couldn't ignore.
Just what the hell was going on?
She shifted in her seat before looking up at the Glaive, a humorous smirk on her face, "Not going to talk to your former Glaive, Hero? I thought we were on good terms."
A breathless chuckle resounded from the hood, "As much as a reunion is due, I'm on-duty. Sorry Rissa."
"Not even going to ask how I've been? I see you're looking better than ever."
"On. Duty." The girl informally known as Rissa cocked her brow before leaning forward in her seat, tapping her nails on her helmet in rhythm as the seemingly endless human wave continued to splash around her, until a smile piqued on her face as an idea came to mind. She was grinning by the time she peered up at the Glaive. Of course she got no response, but the quick glance toward her was the response she was gonna take.
"A shame you're not as familiar with the Citadel, Nyx..." she spoke as she gently lowered her helmet aside her. "Would've made this game of catch a bit more enticing." Not even a second after the last word and her figure was replaced by a ripple of violet glass, Nyx holding in his sound of disbelief as his body moved on its own to chase after the girl. She was surprisingly faster than he remembered, slipping past people with ease whilst making sure not to cause cosmetic damage to anything, but once she managed to sprint away from the congested hallways Nyx brought out his kukri.
He threw it, a fuzz of blue and orange displacing his body as his goal was to tackle Rissa onto the ground via warping...but this was a girl who was named the Queen's Arsenal for a reason and she halted in her tracks just as he blinked back into existence, grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. What he wasn't expecting was the sudden change of momentum as she steadied her base and pulled him over her hip, meeting the floor slower than she shrugged off his weight. "Word of advice," she leaned down to meet his surprised eyes and pressed his dagger flat on his chest. "Don't warp around me: I always know where point b is."
Before she let him protest, Rissa laughed as she jogged away from him and made sure that his beckoning was finally out of earshot by eventually finding a room to hide herself. What she didn't realise was the room she stumbled in was a pretty big-ass room, black marble flooring with blue and gold that spilled up the columns and a giant portrait on the right wall expressing the Lucian lore. She was too distracted by the entirety of the room that she flinched when a voice reached her ears, her dark eyes meeting a boy her age with black on his clothes and blue in his eyes that pierced through his long bangs. "You're not supposed to be here," he said bluntly, tilting his head when he noticed she didn't respond, and started to walk towards her.
And this, aside from our previous meetings, is where everything suddenly goes to hell. A hell where it's nothing but uncomfortable heat rather than raging fires that could melt your skin and boil your blood. Still hell, but you still had a hold of whatever was left of your pride.
His sway was sort of deviant, unkempt for a prince attempting to display his etiquette and it wasn't until he was a couple steps in front of her that he stopped in his tracks to lift his head. Even though it had been a while, he looked good and more mellowed out than the first time she was graced by his presence 2 years ago. Good looking if it wasn't for a dark shadow that seemed to hang over his head, but even then a light slap was all the loving he'd receive if she was ever blessed with the permission to do so. Or a wake-up punch. Probably the latter. "Didn't you hear me?" he went on. "You're not supposed to be here."
"Noct," the well-built man behind him spoke up; a booming voice for a strong man, indeed. "Calm down will you? Didn't your father tell you who was coming in today?"
"He did. But I gotta say, this is definitely not the Queen of Vaeza."
"No. That young lady in front of you is the Queen's Arsenal."
The Prince of Lucis chuckled as he relayed that nickname, finding it humorous that someone so petite would have such a pompous tag. "I don't see it," he shrugged, taking another sharp glance at the girl before walking back to the man, and Rissa smirked as another idea came to mind. Man, she was full of ideas today. Wonder where all this creativity was coming from.
She started. "If he doesn't want to believe you, Gladio, then I can show him instead." She chose her words carefully and guessed right that the royal would stiffen up at the mention of his friend's name. "Prince Noctis, I take it? My name is Averissa Leonis, the Queen's Arsenal and your sparring partner if you're up for it. It's been awhile since I stretched, Her Majesty likes to protect me a bit too much...even though that's my job."
"Rissa, you're not serious, are you?"
She stripped off her jacket and tossed it aside, "My words can cut space, of course I'm serious Gladio. Besides, where's the fun if you're always beating him?"
"Oh, I'd like to see you try, Averissa," Noctis called forth his Engine Blade with a thought, the weapon appearing as blue light before changing into shades of metal and shards of glass that quickly dispelled from its aura. Gladiolus, understanding the situation playing in front of him, backed away and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. He wanted to tell the prince, he really did, but something that glittered in the girl's eyes made him do otherwise.
Averissa let out a satisfied hum and brought out her left hand, and a word filled the room, "Ragnarok." The two-sided blade whistled to her grasp in a ripple of red, the futuristic weapon vibrating lowly in her hand. "You can be the Prince of Lucis for all I care," she told him. "If you can't match your Shield, then you can't match the Arsenal."
Pleased to say I kicked his princely ass. For someone who breathes royal, his attitude to combat was sloppy. Always warping all over the place, no thorough tactic to dealing with his foes. Even while Gladio, and then Ignis, trained him there was something missing. And then I realised.
"Here," she panted, holding Ragnarok out to a recovering Noctis, both bodies drenched in sweat, muscles burning and hair eventually pulled back. It was almost a year after they sparred together as the Queen's Arsenal and the Prince of Lucis and they continued to practice in the same training room, blessed with his father's permission, and the two of them were equally spent. Averissa was struggling to stand and instead glued herself to the floor with her lungs heaving in greedy gasps of air, while Noctis was doubled over respiring just as roughly but at least he was standing to a degree. He peered at her when she called for his attention, lifting a brow when her signature weapon was offered to him. "Take it."
"Why me? Isn't it yours?"
"Because I figured...if you're going to warp...at least warp with impact." She managed to pull herself off the floor and assumed a loose sitting position. "Every time you warp, all I see is an easier way to travel. It's handy when you do use it as a mode of transportation, but Lucians can only go as far as your weapon takes you. Be it 10 metres or 1000 metres. So when you use it as a combat strategy, to hit a target...you need to break space."
"I...I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied with a deep sigh as he rolled his shoulders back and dipped down to help her to her feet. "And I thought Iggy sounded silly when he talked."
"And if he heard you say that, I'm sure I would never see you again."
"The worst thing is that you probably wouldn't. So, Rissa, explain. And in English if you don't mind."
"Warping can be seen as archery, can it not? Every arrow you fire from your bow all depends on the archer and their environment. Wind speed, angle of trajectory, elastic resistance of the string, they're all factors. Same way your connectedness to your weapon acts as a conduit for your warping. So," Averissa waved her hand and a massive target board shimmered to view at the far end of the room and with words that danced, a mechanical bow pulsed violet in her grasp and Noctis made a fascinated sound when she roughly pulled her vanilla bangs back and aimed for the target.
"Wait, but where's your―" He cut his sentence short when he watched her pull back the middle of the string and an arrow of neon blue digitised between her fingers.
"If I fire with little resistance, even if I make my target, there's little impact." She released her arrow and let it fly directly to the bullseye, and the target shuddered on contact but that was all. Then she summoned a neon arrow once again and latched onto the nocking point tighter, pulling the string so far back Noctis was afraid she'd lose her damn arm but he didn't say anything. "But, if I focus my strength onto a single point…" The projectile tore through the air and slammed into the target, Averissa lowering her bow as it made a shockwave and the force cracked the board. "You get this."
"You make it seem easy," Noctis scowled as she banished her weapon.
"It will be if I give you Ragnarok, it enhances the magic power of its wielder meaning warp strikes carry more weight. You warp more than I do. Exceedingly more than I do. It's the trademark of the Lucian bloodline."
"But…" he hesitated, understanding that Ragnarok was Averissa' favoured weapon of choice; it was the one she would start and finish with in most sparring matches. It was a mysterious blade, sometimes it would sing so loud his concentration would waver and other times it would be unnaturally silent that the Queen's Arsenal would be just as quiet. Not to mention her own abilities were unheard of in Lucis. A girl his age with power than can tear the world asunder by finding silence underneath the noise was a scary thought. "What about you?"
"It has no use where I'm going."
"Where are you going?"
"That's...that's classified."
"Classified, my ass."
"I'm sorry Noct, but I'm afraid I can't tell you. If I did your father would punish me."
"Oh, I didn't know you were running errands for my dad now."
"Averissa's running errands on your behalf," an accented voice cut off their imminent argument and they both turned to a smartly-dressed Ignis, holding what seemed like a letter in his gloved hand. "Your father offered someone of similar skill, but Averissa here insisted that she'll do it."
"What is it?" the prince asked, sharper this time, and Averissa glanced at him.
"It's to help aid the eternal bond of you and Lady Lunafreya. I can say that much."
"That means―"
She held up her hand to silence him, "Ah, ah. Whatever you're thinking, you're probably right. I know it's quite a while until that day comes but...I want the wedding to be absolutely perfect. We don't need Niflheim breathing down your neck, or anyone else's for that matter."
"That we can agree on."
"So, are you taking Ragnarok or not?" she snapped back this time, the weapon whistling to her grasp at the mention of its name, and Noctis studied her expression. She looked serious enough but her having her bottom lip pulled taut between her teeth said otherwise. If anything, she looked...nervous.
He sighed, "Would you feel better if I did?"
"Immensely. If we can't meet like this, carry a piece of me with you instead." He glanced at the weapon for a moment before reaching out and curling his hand around the hilt of the blade, letting out a sound of surprise as it was lighter than he would've imagined. "By right, Ragnarok has been passed down to you...I hope you handle him well."
"Wait, him?"
"Ragnarok isn't a person but he always listens, always obeys. You should try and talk to him, I think he'll be thrilled to find his wielder is the Prince of Lucis." Noctis smirked and stored Ragnarok into his interdimensional arsenal with a fancy glimmer and Averissa tilted her head at Ignis, "I was supposed to be a princess, you know."
Ignis blinked, "That's something I was never informed of."
"I never told anyone, I promised Cor that I wouldn't. I'm not a lover of the meetings and the reports and the etiquette―"
"Even though you speak so formally," Noctis cut in with a sarcastic look.
"I was raised as Lady Averissa but decided to become something better than some noble in a dress. With the powers that I have, I didn't want to be locked away in an ivory tower watching as the nation that accepted a half-breed to be their shield. If I am able to fight...that's exactly what I'll do. Even if it means you hating me for the rest of your life. Even if it means not being able to see you again. Even if it means my life. From this moment on, my mission is centred around you, Noctis, so all I need you to do is fight." Silence choked the room as she stared at him, unable to read what was behind his eyes but could feel the festering emotions in his heart. "If there are no more words to be said, my campaign must be initiated as soon as possible."
"So you can't even stay the night?"
"No...I can't. I'm sorry."
"Then prove it. Prove to me you're exactly what you're meant to be; the Queen's Arsenal."
She hesitated in his presence and gradually found the strength to walk away from him, thankfully taking the letter Ignis had in his grip, "I'll make sure I live long enough to be yours, prince."