A distant, echoing scream forced Hope awake. His head felt stuffed with cotton and thrown against a hard surface too many times to count. He was surrounded by unfamiliar sheets and he felt the foreign texture of silk as a threat. The scent of summer flowers assaulted his nose and blinding sunlight crept through the cracks in the curtains.

The room was colored in peaches and creams, like those of a woman's spring gown, or a garden themed after a wedding. He wondered if he'd ever make it to a wedding.

The voice didn't wake with him, its distinct absence causing an emptiness in the pit of his stomach.

A glance to the corner showed him the silhouette of a monster towering over him with too many wings on its back and an inhuman shape to its face.

He yelped and scrambled backward until he fell off the other side of the bed and crashed to the ground in a heap of blanket and sheets.

"Wait," came a voice Hope thought he should know and yet shouldn't. "You're safe!"

He didn't look at the figure that rushed to his side – he focused on the spot where the monster was, the one that he did know, that-

"Hope!" Larsa grabbed his face with silk-gloved hands and forced him to look his way. "You're safe!"

Hope's chest heaved with every breath and his face felt stuffy still. "You-… Who-?"

"You're in the palace. Among friends."

The assassin. Hope remembered his dark silhouette and his strange clothes. "Bhuni-"

"No!" The voice roared to life within him. "Don't remember!"

The name, on the tip of his tongue. The one he could never remember. The one that was always watching him.

"Always," Hope rasped, throat closing up. "Can't say no."

Larsa's eyes narrowed and he mouthed silent words. "To what?"

"To him."

"He doesn't exist!" screamed the hoarse voice that phased into a younger, childlike tone. "I am the only one you know! You listen to me!"

"You're unwell."

Hope felt the clamminess of his hands, pressed against the ground as if to find reason and security in it. "Very."

"You haven't eaten. You should have some tea."

… Tea. Tea?

Hope squinted, the light from outside blinding him. "Don't… fear," he managed. Where did he know it from?

"Tea." Larsa stood. "I'll get you tea."

"Forget," hissed the voice. "Forget!"

"Forget what?" Hope managed, throat burning. "What happened?"

The door clicked closed and Hope pulled himself to a sitting position. Did Larsa not leave? He could swear there was…

In the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow.

"You're following me," Hope said.

"Yes." The man with the green coat, with dark skin and white hair. His voice reflected two inhabitants as he approached Hope.

"You arranged for all of this."

"Those years weren't wasted. If I must, I will repeat them."

"Not just years," Hope found himself replying. The voice spoke through him. "Centuries."

"It's not just one of them anymore. The Savior has become eight."

His skin crawled at the mention, faces flickering through his mind. The voice sobbed in resignation as strange memories came to him of events he didn't know, of a planet in the sky he belonged to while living on the world below. He remembered a floating city, miles above the ground that never disconnected from it.

The man stepped back into the shadows and Hope deliberately averted his gaze.

Larsa returned, missing his emperor's robes and carrying a wet cloth on a tray with a teapot and accompanying cups.

"Hey," Hope said, head feeling clearer than it had in a long time. "Sorry about that."

Larsa placed the tray on the small table by the bed. "Don't concern yourself with it. I promised I would help you, and I intend to keep my oath."

The voice felt… distant. It didn't say anything, but it also hadn't left completely. Hope felt its vague presence in the back of his mind still, and he could sense a vast blackness behind it. It protected him from his memories – the ones that it still could.

"I… don't belong here," Hope said. "I should leave this place."

Larsa shook his head and poured two cups of tea. "I'm the emperor and I choose who lives in my home. If I can let the Dalmascans take up residence without certain additional paperwork, then I can let a street child become my personal healer."

"That's kind of reckless, isn't it?"

A flustered frown touched Larsa's lips when he offered Hope a cup. "Perhaps. But I should like it all the same."

Hope took a sip and it tasted like mint leaves "I should probably learn how to act like nobility if that's the case."

"I can teach you."

"Don't you have other things to do?"

"Perhaps." Larsa took a thoughtful sip. "But my schedule is flexible, much to the chagrin of my councilmen. I might assign another, but-"

"No, it's fine. I'll let you call the shots."

"Would that it made no difference, but we work in such an environment and it matters if the people trust you. Most will dismiss one apparently raised from the streets."

Hope remained quiet and watched the rippling reflection of his cup showing his tousled hair and face cleaner than he'd seen it in years.

"I shall have a couple of friends over in the next week," Larsa said. "Perhaps you'll appreciate their company."

"That might be difficult."

"These are… not of noble blood. In fact, they're not unlike yourself."

"That'll be harder."

Larsa raised an eyebrow. "I should think you know better than anyone that not all the homeless are pickpockets or sadistic."

"No, but they also don't know certain manners."

"Like?"

Hope scowled. "Like not trying to kill you."

"I see."

"Hey, do you know why I passed out?"

Larsa blinked. "You don't remember?"

"Not exactly." He furrowed his brow. "I remember dreaming about…." Blood and roses. "… Tea. Flowers. Strange stuff. What caused the blackout?"

Hesitation. Larsa set his cup down. "One of my friends scared you. She said something, and you panicked. I had to sedate you and bring you here."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

Hope set his cup back down and pulled the blanket about himself. The motion felt familiar and he thought that maybe it was something he did as a child. Though he never knew a time when he had more than a ratty sheet to protect himself. He never knew a time when he could crawl into his parents' bed and listen to their stories while wind billowed outside, and rain pounded at the windows.

He never knew his parents.

Just like he never knew a "Lightning."

After one particularly difficult morning, Hope gave up measuring out Galbana essence and went to see the library. Went to ground himself in the reality of his world.

The voice was quiet as he moved through the palace, boots tapping lightly along. The halls echoed every sound back to him and rippled down the hall and out of earshot. He moved slowly, limbs weaker than they were yesterday.

Finding the library on its own proved to be a bit of an adventure, but Hope finally found it after scouring several floors.

Large double-doors guarded the way and opening them revealed a cavernous space filled to the vaulted ceiling with shelves on shelves of books and scrolls and maps. The entrance presented a desk with a handful of workers filing and recording while Hope wandered in and shut the doors behind him with a mild thud. The workers didn't look up to see him.

Hope cast a mesmerized look about him, motes of dust dancing in the rays of sun emitted by the mostly-covered windows. There was a strategic positioning to the shelves in the way they all faced artistically away from the light, the wood of the structures protecting their books from the sun.

No one reacted to him walking past, all too distracted by their work and tomes.

Hope was hit then with the overwhelming realization that he didn't know where to start. He could afford to take a couple, but how could he decide on only two?

He wandered down one row that detailed the histories and origins of the empire, with entire books dedicated to the judges, the senate, the Solidor name…

Ignored those and continued to the geography section. Walked past exploration reports and studies, glanced over research papers and educational materials meant for the young in school. Because people that came here had the resources to put their pampered children in the kinds of schools that would teach them about the layout of the land.

He moved forward and let himself forget that sting of jealousy and painful familiarity. Nostalgia and the sense of having something precious ripped from him.

Into black magic and other he went and found titles after the structure of teaching the arts of the arcane. Different elements and their domains passed him by in the form of bound leather and he paused by one titled after one of the greatest mages this world had to offer.

Picked it up and found intricate patterns burned into the leather cover. It titled itself after the four main elements fire, thunder, wind, and water. Inside the book laid colorful depictions of different spells and Hope couldn't help a gnawing curiosity at the sight of the words written in flowing, careful script. A warmth lit within him, a familiar and comforting presence of the arcane.

He made himself stop after reading through what must have been half the book and slipped it back into its place.

Walked past that and other intriguing titles until he chanced upon the white magic section. Here, Hope second-guessed himself. Stuffy titles and stuffier author names laid in wait here and he wondered how such formalities could allow the practical knowledge he needed to find. He didn't want studies, he wanted guides from people who knew what they were doing.

Eventually he settled on tome about healing techniks.

Satisfied, he moved on through the aisles and came to rest in the section on mythology and lore. Tales and stories passed on through old wives' tales and children's rhymes to last through the generations.

Here, there stood a large man with dark hair, a tanned complexion, and enough skin showing to reveal large muscles and intimidating tattoos. A girl in dark clothes and similar complexion hung near.

"Excuse me," Hope whispered and approached him. "Would you happen to know where I can find the medicinal section?"

"Medicinal," repeated the man in a rough accent and the deepest voice. "Do I look like I know where that is?"

"Well, no, but…"

The man slapped his book shut and Hope startled. "Over there, ki-… Wait. I know you."

Hope drew up short. "What?"

"Hope!" the girl said. "Where's Prompto?"

The man shoved the girl aside and bolted for Hope.

Instincts took over and Hope ran. Their footsteps echoed through the library, heavy and frantic with those man's being so loud they thundered in Hope's ears and vibrated the wood below him.

The man was fast, but Hope ducked down the corridors formed by shelves and slipped between people to give himself the only advantage he could.

"Out of my way!" the man bellowed.

Hope's heart jumped to his throat and every breath threatened tears. His side hurt and his lungs burned but he kept moving because he had no idea what he did to get these people's attention and that man sounded ready for blood. Thirsty for it, even.

Soon the whole library mobilized at the chase and the room filled with curious murmurs and irate shouts. Some shrieked at Hope barreling past them and others made to grab him but this wasn't the first time he ran like this and most here were nobles that only had to move to pick up lunch or clothes or take leisurely strolls.

Eventually he burst through the doors and bolted down the hallway to find his room. It was close enough to Larsa's that the guards should protect him.

Or so he hoped.

Out here, the man kept right on his tail so Hope flung a blinding spell that way before twisting through a connecting corridor and taking the stairs two at a time.

Hope bit back a sob of panic when rough hands grabbed his arm and his heart stopped and surely-

He looked back to see Gabranth, who looked down at him through the helmet and said nothing.

Hope stuttered, "J-Judge!"

"What are you running from?" Gabranth asked.

Hope glanced behind him and found no trace of his pursuer. Swallowed. "Someone in the library. They tried-… I think they wanted to kill me."

"Guards protect this place from every corner. Killers do not get in easily."

"I know, but-…" Every breath hurt his chest and rattled his lungs. "I think I still need to rest."

"… Clearly." Gabranth released him. "Do not leave your room until you're called for."

"Understood, Judge."

Gabranth's gaze lingered on him a moment longer before the man walked away and left Hope to find his room.

The moment Hope closed the door, he sunk against it until his knees touched his chin. His body ached, and his teeth chattered.

Time passed, though there was no dial to watch it. The panic died and breath came back to him.

The room turned bright and the sun broke through clouds to illuminate the room in glittering shards of lights of floated up like droplets of water after a blizzaga. Shards that shimmered like fresh ice, or crystallized sugar.

His stomach growled. Would they bring him food when they called for him?

Hope reached out and took one shard between his fingers. It didn't cut him despite its sharp edges and he put it to his tongue to taste. It reminded him of sweets he had as a child, when the bakery first opened and he took some of the failed starter batches because the baker wouldn't feed them to the populace.

It reminded him of berry candies and the promise that he wouldn't go hungry. Not until the gang of older kids kicked him out, at least.

He wondered if the baker ever thought about him.

Hope sucked on the candy and focused on that nostalgic taste until his heart finally calmed and he breathed easy again.

Eventually a man found him and gave a short bow. "Sir, His Imperial Majesty extends a summon to his personal office."

"Understood." Hope stood and stretched out the kinks in his legs. Made a mental note to avoid this place when he had a schedule to stick to like he had every other day of his life here.

Then got to making his way through the palace.

Larsa's office was getting easier to find, though it still laid above an elevator ride and three additional flights up the palace's circling staircase. Paintings and murals passed him by, depicting historical events and classic moments in literature that Hope had never read but heard of in conversation on a weekly basis. The palace was bathed in the light of midday and its endless pathways provided the reflected light of the sun to see in their depths.

When he found Larsa's office, it once again succeeded in astounding him. He was slowly getting used to it, but the towering glass walls and staggering banners draped from the cavernous ceiling never failed to inspire a sense of awe.

Larsa, as usual, was sorting through and responding to papers on his desk. When he wasn't doing that, Hope knew him to be meeting with the senate or the judges or what other advisors he had.

It wasn't just Larsa inside, but two others that appeared to be older than Hope by a few years – a boy and a girl wearing garishly inappropriate outfits. The girl exposed her waist and painted and tattooed shoulders, while her hair had been tied into girlish braids on both side of her head. The boy was like Balthier, but with baggier clothes. They both perked up at his entrance but said nothing at first.

Hope cleared his throat as he shut the door and remembered to bow this time. "Your Imperial Majesty. You called?"

"Yes." Larsa looked up from his papers. "How do you fare this week?"

"Well, Majesty."

"Just as well to call me 'Larsa,' Hope. We're the same age – no point in creating barriers where there are none."

"Larsa. I was reviewing in the magic section in the library when I thought of something that might help with your friend's blindness."

Larsa leaned over his desk and placed his chin atop laced fingers. "I'm afraid Balthier left shortly after your… incident a few days ago. I shan't imagine he'll be back for some time."

"Oh." Hope stood there for a moment, feeling stunned. "Okay."

"However." Larsa leaned back again just as Hope considered leaving. "He's made steady progress and I shouldn't worry after his health, frail though it may be with the influx of Mist. He made a comment regarding who your parents might be, but it could have been nonsense for the magic in his head."

"Okay."

"But I have some friends here."

"Sky pirates."

"Yup!" said the boy, grabbing the girl around the shoulders. She rolled her eyes at the motion but didn't resist him. "Vaan and Penelo, the Notorious!"

Hope exchanged a look with the beaming Larsa. "I've never heard of you. Have you killed anyone?"

"We avoid it," said Vaan. "But it's technically happened. So, Larsa says you may be up to a round of sparring?"

"What?" Hope's breath picked up at the thought. Even the voice rumbled at the thought. "But I've never-!"

"It would be appropriate," said Larsa, "that my personal healer learn to take care not only of himself, but of his charge. What good is white magic if one of us is killed?"

"You didn't tell him?" asked Penelo, taking a couple steps back and planting her hands on her hips. She took on a reprimanding tone. "Vaan, do you have any idea what courtesy even is?"

"It's my fault," said Larsa. "It appears I forgot to inform Hope what it usually means when you two visit."

"When Vaan visits," Penelo corrected him. "I can take care of myself, but personally don't get any joy out of beating on other people."

"It's not beating," Vaan whined. "Larsa wins almost every time!"

"He's won half the time, yes, but I don't think you should drag other kids into it. Look at him! He can't be more than thirteen!"

"Fourteen," Hope said.

"Fourteen!" Penelo looked between them. "Oh. About your age, Larsa."

"Quite close," said the emperor. "Mere months apart, it seems."

"I can fight," Hope said, feeling heat rise in his face.

"Great!" Vaan clapped his hands together. "So, we've got a party!"

Larsa, who Hope only just then realized wasn't wearing his usual robes but instead something like what Hope found him wearing in the streets, gestured toward the door. "We shall need coordination of numbers," he said, "as each of us against each other may make for a rather unwieldy setup at first."

"Fair point," Vaan said. "Let's decide that on the way."

"You and Larsa start off together," Penelo said as they left the office and moved down the hall. "Show Hope how it's done, and then either you or Larsa challenge him. Take it easy, of course."

"I can't take it too easy," Vaan said, "or we lose the point of the match!"

"Just the first time! I'll stop you if it goes too far."

"Why not use Gabranth?" Hope asked. "He seems like a good fighter."

"He's not much of one for training," said Larsa. "He has more important duties to attend to."

"Says the emperor."

"We've explained this."

"Remember," Vaan said as they entered a large, open room. "No magic, and no sharp objects. Outside of your wit, of course." He snickered to himself.

A small weapon rack sat at one end of the room, between one of the windows that dominated the wall and lent a marvelous view of the west sect of Archades. A training mat ran from one end of the room to the other, cut to within a large margin of the wall, leaving plenty of space for onlookers to wander about the room.

"This," Hope said, "isn't something I expected to see in here."

Larsa took a thin blade from the rack as well as a blunt weapon the size of his fist. "All members of the royal family are taught to fence as if to protect their lives. Were it not so, I wouldn't be here today."

"Thanks to that," Vaan said, "and to us, of course."

Penelo nudged Vaan, but didn't help a small smile. It made Hope feel a little out of place, missing the in jokes. "You traveled together, too?"

"Oh, yeah," Vaan said. "To the ends of Ivalice and back."

Hope wondered what it would be like to see the forests and mountains of the other regions. "That sounds amazing."

"Well," Vaan said, pulling a sizeable sword from the rack. Both blades were marked with colored strips where their sharp ends should have been. "Let's do this."

Larsa lowered his head half an inch, expression determined.

"Begin," Penelo said, taking a step back from the mat.

Vaan launched in immediately, swinging at Larsa from the side only for the emperor to step nimbly out of the way and thrust toward Vaan.

They reacted with such precision and finesse that Hope thought it must have been rehearsed. "They've done this before," he said. "They don't have each other memorized or something?"

"That's not how it works," Penelo said. "They fight until one beats the other, and forces them to do better. Their styles and habits are supposed to change faster than the other can keep up. But honestly, Vaan hates training without a partner, so he hasn't been good at the whole improving thing."

"Ha!" Vaan said as the tip of his sword touched Larsa near the heart. "That one's on you!"

Penelo sighed. "As does Larsa, apparently."

"There you go!" Vaan said, tossing Larsa's rapier to Hope. "You can use one, can't you?"

Hope caught it, but only barely kept from poking his own eye out. "Uh…"

"Easy, Vaan!" Penelo reminded him. "He's still just a kid!"

Vaan grinned and Hope tentatively stepped up to the mat, passing Larsa who took deep breaths. "How do I use this?" Hope asked. "I've never touched one before."

"Never touched a rapier?" Vaan asked. "Or a sword?"

"A weapon."

"As I told you," Larsa said from the side.

Vaan groaned. "First, grip from the handle, below the guard. Yeah, there. Then stand real strong-like, so people can't push you over."

Hope furrowed his brow at the idea before spreading his legs apart and tensing the hand with the sword.

"Not that wide. You're not a wrestler. No, right there. That's good."

"Straighten your back," Larsa said. "The rapier requires a sophisticated hold and proper posture. It isn't meant to be held by barbarians." Larsa flushed. "Apologies. That isn't what I meant."

Hope fidgeted. "This is surprisingly uncomfortable."

"It'll become natural to you." Vaan lowered himself into a slight crouch. "Just do that whenever and it'll feel normal after a while."

"Very astute," Penelo said.

Hope bit his lip, but kept his back straight and his legs separated. Vaan grinned, a concerning bloodlust showing in the crook of his mouth and that flash of teeth. Hope kept his breathing even, focusing on the in and out.

Penelo announced, "Begin!"

Vaan threw himself forward and Hope yelped, jumping away from him.

"Don't forget your posture!" Penelo called.

He couldn't worry about that right now!

Vaan didn't even raise his sword – Hope had enough trouble getting away.

"You can run forever," Larsa said calmly, "but you will go nowhere if you don't fight back."

Hope lifted his sword, but Vaan struck it out of the way.

"Yes!" Penelo cheered. "Do that!"

Vaan's grin widened and he parried Hope's next blow as well. The other man was clearly toying with him – how was he supposed to get any leeway here?

"Lay off, Vaan!" Penelo said. "Let him do something!"

Vaan rolled his eyes but took a few steps back. Hope relished the distance, only then realizing how fast his heart was beating. It felt like it might break through his ribs at any moment.

Hope took the chance to advance on Vaan this time, running forward with the point of his sword out. Vaan deflected him, but his motions were noticeably slower. He dragged his movements out as long as possible without letting Hope in.

"That's better!" Penelo said.

Hope stumbled around Vaan's offense, barely evading some of his attacks and getting hit by the rest.

"That's enough," Penelo announced after what felt like forever. Hope suspected it was closer to a few minutes. "Give him a break, Vaan."

He reluctantly stopped and let Hope get one last hit in. Vaan didn't seem phased by it.

Hope took a moment to catch his breath and Penelo took to the floor with Larsa. "You do this often?" he asked Vaan, who took a drink of water from the table.

"Sometimes." Vaan shrugged and watched Penelo engage with Larsa. "Only when we find the time to stop by and all. We'll need to get going again in a day or two, though. Gotta meet up with the new gang."

Hope frowned. "You can leave whenever you want."

"That's the way of the pirate, man."

He couldn't help a twinge of jealousy. The palace was nice and all, but he thought it appealing to just leave the city entirely. "Do you ever get tired of flying? Want to settle down?"

"Nah. That's why I took the skies, you know. Sitting around is boring."

Penelo and Larsa took a break. "Did you tell them about our friends?" she asked.

Larsa perked up. "Friends?"

"Yeah." Vaan stuck his hands behind his head. "Seifer's crew. They're helping us with some errands and we're giving them rides in exchange."

Hope felt a shift in his conscience before another presence joined him. Gabranth's voice – or one very much like it – whispered, "Take no heed of my visit. I am come to see the health of our emperor."

This voice must be new to the party, then. Hope knew to dismiss it when his mind talked to him. Something about it drew his attention to Larsa and he paid special attention to how the boy acted around Vaan and Penelo. Paid attention to the body language and hints at emotional stability.

Genuine smiles, hard breathing brought on by healthy exercise… Hope felt the other presence hum in satisfaction. "All appears well. Thank you for allowing me this visit."

And just like that, the presence vanished.