READ HERE FIRST!

MAJOR SPOILERS FROM THE ENDWALKER MSQ!

Do not read if you are still playing through Final Fantasy 14: Shadowbringers or have plans to. I will be using my own character, Claire Faye, in the story to stand in as the Warrior of Light, but feel free to think of your own characters. Here is a list of things that will be in this story:

Major Game Spoilers for Final Fantasy 14: A Realm Reborn, Heavenward, Stormblood, Shadowbringers, and Endwalker

I do not own any copyright, am doing this purely for entertainment…

Please enjoy.

Chapter 1: (Artoirel)

"I am no stranger to the battlefield, Ser Aymeric! My arm will not falter; my shield will not break! Halone as my witness, we will bring these fanatics to justice!"

- Count Artoirel de Fortemps of Ishgard

Count Artoirel tried his best to keep his mind focused upon his tasks, to keep himself busy and distracted from the worry that was constantly threatening to pull him under.

He wished he could have been there, could have gone to Sharlayan and offered his support to the Warrior of Light and the other Scions. But he understood that his duty was to assist Ser Aymeric and Ishgard, to protect the city as they entered what could be their Final Days. And though they were still struggling with the blasphemies, they at least understood the basic concept that it was through despair that were making their people vulnerable to such horrendous transformations. It was all he and Ser Aymeric could do to keep the people from panicking even more than they are right now.

Instead, he sent his little brother, Emmanellain, in his stead to aid the Scions—though he privately prayed that he didn't make a mistake and Emmanellain won't prove to be more of a burden than an asset. Still, all the world seemed to be gathering to support the Scions and Hydaelyn's champion as they reached the final hour… and they couldn't let them go without sending someone from Ishgard to assist them. Besides, surely delivering the dragons scales from Hraesvelgr was the least that his brother was be capable of doing.

Meanwhile, he—himself—was now working on where to send out reinforcements to different parts of Coerthas as more and more sightings of blasphemies were spotted. Ser Aymeric was almost constantly on his linkpearl, with both his own knights and members of the Alliance, offering to send supplies and troops to where they were needed most and asking for aid when the situation called for it.

These were the most intense few days of his life and he feared he would be going prematurely grey by the end of it all. Not even when the Dragonsong War was nearing its end and they had dragons gathering outside their doors matched the level of anxiety he was feeling now.

And then the day came that Hydaelyn's champion left for the stars—to travel to the very edge of creation to confront the embodiment of despair—or so Emmanellain stated when they last spoke over the linkpearl.

Once word of that got out, thanks to some very chatty knights, all of Ishgard seemed to be holding its breath. A silent vigil broke out amongst both high and lowborn as they began to pray for the Warrior of Light's safety and success. Despite the shaken faith of many, that night the church was filled with countless souls who knelt in prayer in a way that hadn't been seen since before the end of the Dragonsong War.

He would have joined them, but duty took him out to Falcon's Nest where they were on the lookout for more of these beasts. But whenever he caught a moment, he would look to that star-filled sky and felt worry gripping his heart; and he would pray as well for good news.

So when the moment came when he received word that the burning skies were returning to normal… that the worst was over and that she had done it… he punched the air and cried out with elation—not caring who saw him.

There was much joy across all of Ishgard, indeed all of Coerthas was celebrating the exuberant news that they were finally safe. He was one of them, smiling from ear to ear as he practically skipped towards the Temple Knights Headquarters.

Only to find out that the returning heroes were passing right over Ishgard. He would always remember how he stood there upon the platform as the snows stopped falling—as if the weather was also celebrating—with his father, Honoroit, and Ser Aymeric standing beside him. He would always remember the jubilant sight of the Ragnarok returning to their star after what he could only imagine to have been the journey of a lifetime.

He didn't take his eyes off that ship until it was out of sights, even as more people throughout the city spotted it and began to cheer so loudly that one would wonder if their returning heroes could hear it from up there. The Warrior of Light's name was being cried out in both gratitude and reverence as neighbors began to hug one another and the children began to run throughout the streets with delight etched into their youthful faces.

At last, it was all over.

Or at least he thought it was until he received word from Emmanellain soon after. He had joined his father and Ser Aymeric back at the Temple Knight Headquarters, with young Honoroit talking about every detail of the Ragnarok that he could make out; that was when he heard the buzzing in his ear.

He excused himself from the conversation as Father and Ser Aymeric patiently listened to Honoroit excitement.

"Brother? It is I!" Emmanellain's voice said.

Artoirel had been expecting good news… but as he listened to his report on the Scions returning, his grin slowly faded as concern gripped his insides as a wave of cold swept through his entire body as if someone had forgotten to close the door. It wasn't long before his father and Ser Aymeric noticed this and their smiles quickly faltered at the look on his face.

"What is it?" Ser Aymeric asked worriedly.

Artoirel didn't answer at first as he learned of the condition of the Warrior of Light. But when they pressed him, he confessed what Emmanellain said: how she had been brought back to them alive… but she was immediately taken away by the sages of Sharlayan for treatment and no one had been allowed to see her yet.

That caused all of them to stop breathing for a moment with fear. Artoirel then demanded answers over his linkpearl, trying to make sense of everything that was happening.

"Look, I told you, I don't know anything else than that!" Emmanellain told him. "I didn't get the chance to speak with her. She was half carried out of the ship and then taken by stretcher to the Baldesion headquarters. No one else is allowed to see her as they tend her injuries. That's all I know."

"How did she look?" Artoirel demanded instead.

"Well, to be honest, she looked as if she was knocking at death's door when they supported her off the Ragnarok," he said and Artoirel closed his eyes in anxiety. Could he find no other way to describe it? "White as a sheet and barely conscious… and her armor looked as though someone sliced right through it like a knife through butter. Apparently she lost a lot of blood from that battle because she then blacked out as soon as they brought a stretcher out for her. I tried to follow them for information but we were all turned away from the door. The Scions all confirm for us that the Final Days are over. Already the skies have returned to normal across Thavnair and Garlemald and the other places are quickly following suit."

While he knew that they should be grateful for that, it was hard to celebrate when the one who selflessly gifted them this second chance was somewhere between life and death. The worst part was trying to explain to his father and Ser Aymeric about the unknown condition of the Warrior of Light. Both of them went as pale as the snow outside when they learned that her condition was far more serious than they first thought.

"She can't die on us," young Honoroit gasped out, looking at them all anxiously. "She can't!"

"No one is saying she will," Artoirel tried to reassure him—or mayhaps himself.

They let that sink in as fear really began to grip their very beings as if a vine threatening to choke them. Was it true? Were they in danger of losing Eorzea's brightest spark? Their champion? The savior of Ishgard and this entire world? Up till now, a part of him truly started to believe that she was invincible… in his defense, she did little to disprove those beliefs. She was all but a force of nature on the battlefield even though he knew that she was just a woman underneath all that armor she wore.

But now, with the thought that they could lose her after all she sacrificed…? It was too much for him to bear at once.

His father ran a weary hand over his greying face, looking older than ever as concern clearly showed.

"Is there aught that we can do to assist?" Ser Aymeric asked at once. "Do they need medicines or chirurgeons? We have both to spare…? And if they need more aid we could be ready to leave within the bell."

"Sharlayan has many healers and medicines as well as some of Thavnair's finest alchemists on hand as we speak," Artoirel reminded him. "So we couldn't ask for better healers to tend to her in our stead. It's only a matter of time before… we know more."

He didn't dare tell them what Emmanellain said on how she looked to him, though knowing his brother, he tended to be a bit on the dramatic side. He had thought that spending time with the Ilsabard Contingent would be enough to help shape him up… and in some ways it has. But it sadly seems that parts of him will never change.

"If they need anything else, anything at all, then let him know that all they need do is ask," Ser Aymeric said quickly.

Artoirel quickly passed that message on and listened as his brother reaffirmed at all seemed to be well in hand and that it looked like she should be in the best of hands. Apparently, father didn't like whatever look was on Artoriel's face, for he held out a hand, silently asking for the linkpearl himself. Taken aback, but nodding, Artoirel took the device out of his ear—his brother was still going on and on—and handed it to his father.

Artoirel remained silent as he watched his father put the linkpearl up to his ear and remained quiet as he listened to Emmanllain speak.

"Emmanellain?" he asked in a serious voice and Artoirel could imagine the look of terror on his younger brother's face when he realized that he wasn't speaking to him anymore.

"No excuses," father said firmly. "A few extra days in Sharlayan is surely not going to kill you. Think of this as a chance to get to learn more of the world. While you are waiting there, you can get any and all questions answered about Blasphemies and have that sent over while waiting for news on Claire's condition. Is that clear?"

Artoirel waited as his father seemed to be listening to whatever his brother is saying.

"I mean it, Emmanellain," he warned. "That should be more than enough for you to do in your spare time. But I want a full report on her recovery before returning to Ishgard." Silence for another moment before Artoirel saw his father's eyes narrowed slightly and he added in a voice that was deadly serious, "Just make sure that my daughter is recovering before returning or I shall be cross."

And with that warning, he handed the linkpearl back to him.

"I think that you shall hear from him soon," he sighed, the lines on his face looking deeper than ever.

"I will be keeping an ear out for him. I only wish that I could command him like that," Artoirel said in awe. "Just a few words from you and that shaped him up."

Father just shook his head and answered, "He still has a long way to go. But so long as he has a firm hand to guide him, I have hope that he will make something of himself. He just needs to learn when to take things seriously. If he can do that, then I do believe that he will truly become a great leader of men one day… at least, I hope so."

There was silence around them as Ser Aymeric placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sure that despite his complaints, he is as worried for her as the rest of us," he told father kindly and was rewarded with a rather tired smile.

"After all she's been through, I fear that it would just not be a worthy ending for her," Artoirel said, a poor attempt at a joke. He wasn't really one for such jesting but it did seem to be enough to lighten the mood if ever so slightly.

"Yes, you are right," father stated bracingly. "It's far too early to be jumping to conclusions. We know that she is certainly alive, and she is surrounded by the best healers we could ever hope for right now. She is in the best hands possible. All we can do now is pray that she will be able to find the strength to pull through."

Ser Aymeric smiled at that as well before he turned to Artoirel and added, "Lord Artoirel, we have much and more to work towards. I will soon be calling a meeting with the Houses of Lords and Commons to discuss how best to proceed next."

"Yes, Ser Aymeric," Artoirel stated, "But… what do we do about…?"

He didn't have the heart to continue on with his question, but Aymeric understood.

"Let us keep this information to ourselves for now until we learn more," he said. "I do not wish to cause what may be unnecessary alarm when we still are dealing with the threat of people transforming into these creatures. But I do want a full update when Emmanllain next contacts you. Should they need anything, anything at all, please inform me of that as well and we shall do all in our power to assist. We cannot allow her to suffer or die after all she has done for us."

Artoirel nodded in agreement as he and his father left with Honoroit, with Artoirel telling the boy to run on ahead to the manner and inform the rest of the servants of the good news that the Final Days have passed. As soon as he and his father were alone, he looked over to the older man and could see the worry still etched in his face.

"I know that you fear for her," he said softly. "I do as well. But remember that there is no one else stronger that I can think of. She will pull through, I know she will."

"Yes… I hope you are right," father whispered softly. "I know all this in my head… yet, I still can't help but feel anxious. I always knew that there was a very likely possibility that she may not return alive when I hear of her off on her adventures. But this is the first I heard of her coming so close to death. I can't help but feel guilty."

Artoirel looked away. He also knew that feeling all too well. He remembered in vivid detail the day he first met Miss Faye. Haurchefant always sang her praises as if she were Halone incarnate. How she had helped to clear Francel's name and then later on discovering and defeating the false inquisitor… before she fought on against the heretic's version of Shiva to defeating Vishap on the Steps of Faith. He then would hear other stories about her throughout the city… like she were some kind of mystical warrior that would come and go with the wind… leaving defeated gods in her wake.

In all honesty, hearing such stories, one couldn't help but feel that they were all being exaggerated. Surely no one could do even half of the rumors that he heard? Then the day came that they would met her in the flesh and he would finally put a face to the name.

She and her friends came to Ishgard as refugees in need of sanctuary… but she ended up being their savior several times over. Though at the time, he couldn't really ever imagining her as anything other than a glorified sellsword. At first glance, she didn't seem all too different than from any other Hyur… timid and small in comparison to the knights of Ishgard. But despite her rather delicate-looking appearance, she was as unmoving as a mountain.

He had tried… truly he had to keep his distance. He didn't plan on finding himself getting close to her, to admiring her for her courage and selflessness…? But took great comfort in it all.

Not unlike his father, who had come to see her as one of his own.

"Your daughter though…?" he asked with a faint smile and father looked briefly confused before he realized what he had said before and gave a rather hoarse laugh.

"Halone persevere…?" he sighed again and Artoirel felt a smile tug at his own mouth.

"I'm not upset about it," he reassured him. "On the contrary, she's like a little sister to me as well… and I know how important she was to Haurchefant… I believe that he would have been happier than anyone to hear that you see her as a daughter as well."

He gave a weary chuckle at that, but it wasn't enough to erase the worry from his brow.

"I shall take my leave of you both," he sighed. "I shall be praying for her health and well-being until I hear of an update."

Artoirel nodded as father gave a rather forced smile before slowly turning and walking out of the room, his shoulders slummed over in concern. He saw his father as far as the Manor's door, but left before speaking to any of the other household. He needed time to think and to really savor what was gifted to them.

All around him, he could see the elated faces of every other man, woman, and child. Many of them praising both Halone and the Warrior of Light for saving them. More than a few tears of happiness were spotted as he walked across the city; which brought him some comfort.

And that was when he saw a group of children playing with wooden swords against each other. He paused and watched them, knowing that it wasn't uncommon to see children playing such games—the most popular being Temple Knights battling against heretics in the old days… with the ending of the war, however, those games changed so that they were the Warrior of Light and fought against the all manner of monsters and foes to protect the world.

"You certainly do have the love of the people of Ishgard," he muttered softly as if she were standing right beside him as the children all laughed and ran around.

He would love to see more of this… children laughing and playing with each other without having to fear looking to the skies. To know that they could truly be safe and taken care of in this city while they dream of great things. He would do just about anything to ensure that the future was as bright as the children believe it to be.

He quietly enjoyed watching them play for a few more minutes before walking on.

"Of course, how could I have known how much you would change Ishgard—or me—for that matter?" he asked softly to himself. He let his feet guide him around the city, his mind drifting towards memories as he thought back to those few days that they spent wandering about Falcon's Nest, still in the grip of Nidhogg's shadow.

He had decided from the beginning that he wasn't going to like this woman, for surely anyone that Haurchefant would praise so greatly, by default, couldn't be that great? But she put up with his coldness, never complaining once even as he made his opinions known how he felt when he was ordered to take her with him to the Western Highlands. He didn't know what his father had been thinking of at the time—for hadn't he always done his duty to the best of his abilities? Why did his father suddenly no longer trust him to be able to continue on his own and insist on having her accompany him?

Well, maybe this would be the perfect chance to see her in action and discover if she truly deserved her reputation or not.

So, he played the part of a tour guide as he led her across the city and to borrow a pair of black chocobos. When he jumped onto the bird's back, he took off at full speed—fully intending on leaving her behind… but she was more than able to keep up with him and he suspected that she could outpace him in the air if she wanted to try.

But that, in and of itself, was hardly worthy of praise.

He would then set her about the hamlet as he would continue to learn more about the heretics and discover what he could to help rid them of such activity in these lands. Again, she did all manner of chores without complaint and not only did she do it fast, but efficient. Soon enough, everyone in the Hamlet was able to ask her for aid as she continued to lend a willing ear to any and all who would listen.

He was fighting the urge to like her even back then as he watched how easily that she won the people over. He wasn't sure what it was, but maybe it was just her quiet and resolved nature to get her tasks done that did it… or just the way she was willing to drop whatever she was doing to hear your woes and see if there was something she could do to make their day a little brighter. He found himself oddly… touched when he learned of that.

But it wasn't until they learned of the missing knights did he see another opportunity to test her.

He had her accompany him out into the wilds. Once more, he had tried to outpace her and leave her behind in the snows, for surely she was used to sunny beaches and desert sands…? But no, not only did she keep up, she ran on ahead of him as if she were a little snow wolf stalking her prey. He honestly had to fight to keep up with her as they searched for the knights and he could feel his armor weighing him down.

After a time he could hear the sounds of screams and fighting and he drew his sword and shield as he raced ahead. But as soon as he got there, he saw that his service wasn't needed for battle. She had taken care of three heretics on her own and was now tending to the wounded knight on the ground.

He should have been able to see from that moment that she was all that Haurchefant described and more.

But no, his own pride blinded him. Instead, he let her off on her own into a dangerous environment. He told himself at the time that they couldn't risk letting the rest of the heretics get away… but the knight was in desperate need of treatment.

So he tasked her with going on ahead and to track the heretics on her own while he quickly escorted the wounded knight back to the care of the healers at Falcon's Nest. No sooner did he bring him there, thus seeing the many wounded in service to the city in their infirmary, did he realize what he had done.

What was he thinking? Sending someone off on her own to face who knows how many heretics on their own? She could get killed?!

He then called for as many able knights as possible as they braved the snows to try and give chase. She had been kind enough to leave deep enough footprints for them to follow… and a trail of blood from several wounded heretics—and that was what led them to the abandoned mills.

They had already surrounded the farmhouse, ready to prevent any other from escaping… only to discover her appearing from the basement with barely a scratch and all other heretics slain.

He just felt his jaw drop at the sight of it all.

She not only slew three heretics and saved one of their own, but tracked more across the snows, in the middle of a blizzard no less, all the way to their hideout and slew all who remained? It was a pity that Iceheart escaped at the time, but he could not help but be struck by awe when he gazed upon her.

And she would only continue to inspire awe as she went on to do one incredible feat after another. Eventually leading them to the ending of the war where he could still picture, so clearly, the moment that she appeared upon the back of a dragon. Not just with Midgardsormr after defeating Thordan, but when she appeared on the Steps of Faith upon Hraesvelgr's back. That image was forever burned into his mind when she strode across the frozen steps, giving time for their knights to retreat to safety while Nidhogg's horde took flight in terror.

To say nothing of how she stood against the shade of Nidhogg?

"One would think that you had done more than enough for one lifetime," he stated to himself once more. "But no… not only did you free us from the shade of Nidhogg's torment, but helped to change the city for the better… and then go running off to change more of the world."

She had forever left her mark upon this city and he knew that they would never forget her name.

He smirked slightly as he remembered how he found time to visit that knight that she saved that day. He had long since recovered with only a few scars, and had returned home to his wife who was still carrying their first child—perhaps the first child born after the war's end.

"You would probably be embarrassed, but they gave their child your name," he commented with a chuckle, knowing that the couple had wanted their daughter to grow up strong and brave as the Warrior of Light.

He turned his gaze to the clear skies and thought more of how she had to fight and struggle every step of the way to have earned such praise and admiration.

While not to the same degree, he also had expectations upon him when he had taken the title as Count from his father. It had been a title that he had long known that he would receive from his father… yet…?

He didn't like being referred to as Count… not yet anyway for he had yet to earn it. Just hearing the title was enough to make him cringe for he knew that he only received it for being fortunate enough to have been born first.

As if that was worthy of praise?

He had once thought that serving Ishgard would be to simply cooperate with the other Houses, but he had since came to the startling realization that it wasn't just the Highborn that needed his aid. All of Ishgard needed guidance through these difficult times and as a son of one of the High Houses, he had a duty to lead by example.

A fact that he learned too late to be of aid to someone who needed it most.

"I should have been the one at your side, brother," he sighed sadly, lowering his head in regret.

It was something that he had thought more and more of as he looked around the changing city. He had always believed that he was acting out of loyalty towards his mother… for despite her faults, he had no doubt that she loved and cherished their family… only to feel that she had been betrayed. Since she couldn't take her anger out on father, she directed it towards Haurchefant… the living proof that father fell for another woman.

He didn't want to believe that his father was a bad man… he didn't. Like with his mother, he did believe that father loved his children with his entire heart. Still, Artoirel felt that he had every right to be angry at his father for this… yet realized now that Haurchefant didn't deserve such cold treatment. It wasn't his fault that he was born as a bastard son.

Artoirel felt grief gripping his heart as he thought back to that terrible moment when he learned of Haurchefant's death. How he had died in defending a friend… in that moment he had felt a surge of both regret and hatred. Hatred for the woman whom he died trying to protect… and regret for never making amends with his half-brother before the end. A hatred that would only become the source of even more regret later on for that same woman would later transform heartache into action as she went after the archbishop and brought an end to the tyranny they were so close to facing.

It was clear to everyone that she would do whatever it took to see Ishgard change for the better. Where no child be cast aside because of blood… nor left to freeze to death in the cold. That had lit a fire of inspiration inside him that he never felt before. So he clung on to that, wanting to learn more of what they could achieve, thus working closer with Ser Aymeric, a man whom so many were willing to risk so much for—including Haurchefant.

And when father spoke up, having declared that he could not bear to lose another son, it nearly broke him. For he could see just how much Aymeric resembled Haurchefant and how that idealism was exactly what this city needed.

It had been hard enough to accept the truth of their ancestor's monumental betrayal and to think that he was continuing on such a line? The fact that he had been directly descended from one of Thordan's knights who had fought and protected the people of Ishgard had once been his greatest source of pride. Yet upon learning the truth, he could only feel shame wash through him. He had begged father not to pass on the role of Count onto him… but this was not something that he could just turn away from… not this time.

And yet…?

"A knight lives to serve…"

He smiled faintly as her soft voice entered his head.

"You sound just like him," he sighed with a painful pang of both grief and happiness. "You were never one to give up without a fight, were you?" he asked as if she were standing right beside him. No. She would have battled on and face the challenges ahead of her with a smile. Like how he would have.

"And so shall I," he vowed, praying once more for her swift recovery.

*The Next Day*

"You are certain of this?" Artoirel repeated, promising himself that if his brother was just toying with him then he would make him clean every square inch of Camp Dragonhead with the smallest brush he could find. "She's going to be alright?"

"That's what they said," Emmanellain promised happily over the linkpearl. "She's gonna have some battle scars and will be on bedrest for a time… but her life is out of danger and she is on the mend. She won't be allowed to leave Sharlayan until she completely recovers but the Scions seem up for the task of caring for her until then."

Artoirel let out a sigh of relief, happiness spreading through his body as if he had just sunk into a warm bath after retreating from a blizzard.

"Thank the Fury," he croaked out, his legs shaking and almost threatening to give out from underneath him. "I shall inform father of this at once, I'll head back to the manor right now."

"Glad to hear it. So now that it's all confirmed, I'll be on the next ship out and…?"

"Oh no you aren't," Artoirel interrupted firmly. "You aren't leaving Sharlayan yet."

"W-What? But brother…?" Emmanellain gasped.

"No complaining," he countered. "I mean it, you are staying until you see her face-to-face and can see that she's on her way to recovery."

"But Artoirel," he whined. "She's confined to her room, and they won't allow visitors outside the Scions for at least another couple days!"

"I don't care what they say. Until you are able to confirm with your own eyes, you are not leaving there," he ordered, adopting the same firm tone that his father used on him before. "In fact, you are forbidden to return home without making sure that you see her. And if you know what's good for you, then you will stick around for a spell longer. And trust me, I'll know if you're lying on seeing her."

He heard Emmanellain cursing up a storm on the other end and he rolled his eyes.

"I'll be sure to tell father what you said if you keep that up," Artoirel suggested. "I think that you can survive spending some time away from Ishgard? Why are you so determined to return so hastily? And this better not be about how bland the food is there. I heard tell that you have been spending a large amount of time at this café called the Last Stand. So you can't be suffering too much."

He waited as he clearly heard his brother's voice hitch slightly. He waited for a few seconds before his brother cracked.

"It's the dear Lady Laniaitte!" he gasped out. "I heard that she was planning to return home from Camp Cloudtop for a couple days and I had wished to see her!"

Artoirel rolled his eyes at that, knowing he should have expected such an answer before pointing out, "I'm certain she will be understanding in hearing how greatly concerned you are over Claire's recovery."

His brother fell silent as he thought that all over.

"You're right! She is bound to see me as the sensitive, caring figure that I am! You will be sure to tell her that, right?" he asked quickly and Artoirel had to fight the urge to roll his eyes again.

"I'll make a note of that," he said, deciding to just humor him. "Just send over news when you can. And that report on blasphemies better be done by the time you reenter Ishgard."

He then heard his brother give a rather pompous sigh and complain, "Make up your mind. Do you want me to check up on our little sister's health or do you want your report on the Blasphemies? It'll be hard to do both."

"Just be glad that you're starting to make something of yourself," he retorted. "Halone preserve me, I should have had Honoroit escort you."

He hung up and ran a hand through his hair in a tired way.

Gods, just talking with his little brother is enough to exhaust him. If it was not for the fact that he had come to see him after his mother gave birth, he would be wondering if the two truly shared the same blood.

"Well, there you have it, Claire," he said as his mouth twitched, getting ready to report these glad tidings to his father and Ser Aymeric. "You are all but officially adopted by House Fortemps whether you like it or not."

He breathed in the cold air deeply and elation rose up from his heart at the start of a brand new day. A day that he was so happy to see and be thankful for all that they still have. He turned back to the gravestone in front of him—having been visiting Haurchefant to give him an update on everything that was happening lately—and just started to laugh.

"That was Emmanellain," he stated happily. "She's alright. She pulled through. Just as we had all been praying for but too afraid to hope. I know that if you were here, you would be celebrating with us."

His smile faded a little as he looked to the flowers set in the snow, as well as to the broken shield that still rested against the stone—rust already starting to settle in around the damaged parts of the metal.

"I don't know how things would have turned out if you had survived," he said quietly. "Would events have changed completely…? Or would they have been the same? Either way, I wish that we could speak once more. If to just say how sorry I am for my treatment of you."

He set down another flower at the foot of the grave, knowing that he received visitors often enough and knew that it would have made him happy to have guests. Francel, for example, visited quite often to keep him updated on all the other changes in the city and he had run into him more than once when he made the trek out here to pay his respects.

"I know that you will continue to watch over Ishgard," he said softly, staring at his brother's name engraved upon the cold stone. "But please don't worry so much about us. I will be by Ser Aymeric's side and support him in every way that I can. So you… can rest easy. And… leave looking after our little sister to us as well. Though I know that you will not be surrendering that role regardless of what I say."

He knelt there at the stone for a little longer until a surprisingly warm breeze brushed through his hair and he could swear that he smelt the slight hint of hot chocolate on the air. He just smiled, feeling as if he was being reassured that it was alright. As if Haurchefant was whispering in his ear that all was well.

"Goodbye… brother," he said as he rose to his feet. "I'm still not the person I wanted to become. Not yet. I'll come back soon though to keep you updated on how things go."

He then turned and headed back to the city with a new spring in his step and enjoying the bright sun shining across the azure skies.

(Awwww, I'm always going to have a soft spot when it comes to Heavensward and to our little family up in Ishgard. I've always felt that they all but adopted the WOL and so I could only imagine how they felt when they learned of her journey to the stars and back again. This is canon in my head. There will be six chapters all together, each one devoted to a special someone in Ishgard as they think back to their relationship with the WOL and how they fell about the future. Lots of sweetness and fluff ahead so be prepared!)