Final Fantasy XVI fic, Chasing the Forgotten 5 (Morning for You and Morning for Me)
title: Chasing the Forgotten
author: caledon (the_tower_room)
pairing: Dion/Joshua
rating: E
summary: Having been born the Phoenix meant Joshua was destined to be by Bahamut’s side as his consort.
He didn’t know what he was expecting, but certainly not the situation he found himself in.
Omegaverse AU.
words: 4033
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy XVI belongs to Square Enix.
Chapter 5: Morning for You and Morning for Me
As had been the case for the past few years, the Emperor was late in getting to the Concubine’s bed that no announcements were needed. Per usual, he had not required the Concubine’s services and stayed only to sleep. And as always, he awoke early before the break of dawn, with his attendants silent and swift as they readied and dressed the Emperor for the day. And as unannounced as he came the night before, was gone to perform his duties to the empire.
In bed, Terence blinked awake and not for the first time wondered how they came to be like this. The passion had dissipated seemingly out of nowhere, like mists that quickly evaporated with the advent of the sun; desire had gone cold and empty. As though they were simply people who happened to share a bed, nothing but sleep as their activity. Likewise, of the friendship they had before, it had been difficult to obtain and regain the easy camaraderie of yore.
Terence recalled thinking before, seeming so long ago, that before the emperor's gaze was the world, and that there was no room for him upon that gaze when the Phoenix was just beyond the horizon. And how right he was, for after the Consort Phoenix arrived, even though Emperor Bahamut as promised came to him in his courtyard, those golden brown eyes were as though mesmerized and magnetized, ever turned towards the firebird just beyond his reach, so close and yet so far. The Emperor might have kept himself away from the Consort and stayed with the Concubine, but to Terence, it was not a victory worth celebrating when the feelings that the Emperor once held for him felt as though they never existed.
Six years ago when the Emperor retained his dragon form and the ruling of the empire had come to a halt, Terence had felt suffocated. Part of him wished he hadn't developed those feelings for the lonely Crown Prince, to have wanted a piece of something beyond himself. A concept abstract and abstruse, unpalpable for mere mortal hands to reach for. But it was always the most unattainable that was the most desirable that he was willing to trespass against fate. And oh how did he lived to regret it. He remembered being mired by confusion, by grief. Heart suffused with so much ache, and the source of it was unapproachable because dealing with a dragon was altogether a different story than the human counterpart. So many tears did Terence shed, and his maidservant Leviana bore witness to most of them. His head had been cradled against her chest, and his tears had gotten her garments wet. And in the steady heartbeat by his ear he longed for an escape; he was tired of crying. One small kiss led to a prolonged series of kisses, and then the melding of bodies. And then the inevitable result of that: Kihel. He had lived in a constant state of fear: of being found out, of losing everything. And yet the dragon merely gave him a knowing smile - as though somehow, that act of passion with his maidservant had been witnessed through the walls of his courtyard - before ceding the form back to his human vessel, and the Emperor's eyes had lost the warmth that they had once held for him.
And yet, despite it all, the Emperor never failed to return to him at night; always by Terence’s side, even if not in his arms.
Up to this day, he still hadn't understood why or how he had managed to get away with transgressing against the crown, but he could feel a metaphorical clock ticking down the end of his days. It was only a matter of when.
Sighing, he sat up, and at his movements his maidservants greeted him, and set on to ready him for the day.
As was usual, the morning was spent with his daughter, Kihel. After breakfast he brought her to the study where he sat with her to begin her lessons for the day. Terence couldn’t help mourning the fact that she had to be hidden from the world; her existence constrained only to the denizens of his courtyard whom he trusted to keep her identity secret. As such, he could only provide her education himself, as requesting for a tutor or even sending her to the palace school would not be wise given her status as a Concubine's illegitimate child. Nonetheless, he could only be proud of her progress, his own learnings from years past proving to be of great benefit. Watching her purse her lips in concentration as she practiced her letters on the paper, he felt his heart swell with love and pride, and he couldn’t help patting her on the head with a smile.
A knock on the door interrupted their time, and one of his attendants announced, “Lord and Lady Branford have come to seek an audience, Shining Concubine.”
Terence sat back, a slight frown marring his brow. A visit so early in the morning? he wondered to himself. Letting out a breath, he squeezed Kihel’s shoulder.
“Papa?” the girl turned to look at him, head tilted in curiosity.
Smiling, he said, “Please continue with your letters, Kihel. I will be with you anon.” Then turned to one of the maidservants by the door. “Please look after her, Briony.”
“As you wish, Shining Concubine.”
Then he turned to the maidservant not far from the desk. “With me, Leviana.”
“As you wish, Shining Concubine.” Then Terence led the way to the receiving room where his parents waited.
Upon his entrance, they bowed as was custom, only rising once he was seated on the great chair set upon a daïs across from the door. “Greetings, Mother and Father. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“Terence-” Lord Branford sternly began, but was elbowed by his wife and he was reminded to correct his address. “Shining Concubine. We came to implore you to plead on our family’s behalf.”
Blue-grey eyes blinked, and Terence felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Pray, what has happened?”
“Your brother has been put in gaol!”
The Shining Concubine blinked. Is that not a place that Trevor frequented from all the misconduct and misbehaviour he continually engaged in? he found himself thinking, then instead voiced, “Pardon?”
In a tremulous voice and eyes lit with tears, Lady Branford specified, “The imperial gaol, my dear.”
Imperial gaol, Terence repeated in his head, collapsing against the back of the chair. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself and get a better picture of the situation. His brother Trevor Branford had been all too confident in the power and reputation Terence wielded in the palace, unafraid to ruffle feathers hither and yon that, really, it was simply inevitable that his brother would find himself offending the wrong person with his unchecked deplorable behaviour. And being placed in the imperial gaol could only mean one thing:
“The Emperor put him there,” rasped Terence out loud.
“Yes,” confirmed Lady Branford with a wince.
It would be a different story if it was the usual city gaol: Lord Branford could simply post the bail for Trevor (as he usually did whenever this uncouth son of his found himself there again), or barring that, bribe gaolers and court officials alike if need arose. But the imperial gaol was a different story: it must truly be such a capital offence - or one of such equal - that the emperor himself would deign to act in putting a person there.
“What happened?” asked Terence.
Lord Branford harrumphed. “There had been news going around all morning that the Emperor and the Consort were seen together - disguised, at that - for a night out at the town! And that it was your brother who had revealed their identities-or at least, the Consort’s identity. And Trevor then proceeded to accuse the Consort of fraternizing with the man he was there with, only for that other man to turn out to be the Emperor. It angered His Radiance so much that he dropped his disguise and turned into Bahamut, and then had your brother arrested by the guards.”
Terence ran his hands over his face, digesting what he had just been told. The Emperor and the Consort together… With his heart crumbling he recalled the evening before when the Emperor suddenly said he must leave because he had an appointment in the middle of the romantic sunset dinner that Terence had set up for the two of them. He felt as though he was being cheated on - as strange as that sounded in the kind of society they lived in where any alpha, beta, or even sometimes omega, of good standing were allowed one spouse and as many concubines as they could afford to keep. But even though Terence had come through the Emperor's palace doors first, he was and could only be a titled Concubine, whereas Joshua Rosfield as the Phoenix was the legal spouse by default, even before they had ever met.
Restlessly, Lord Branford forgot Terence’s higher status, not waiting to be granted permission to move and instead gave in to his urge, pacing tensely in the receiving room. “What has changed, Terence, huh? Why is the Emperor now, after all this time, suddenly panting after the Consort like a dog in rut-”
“-Dear, please watch how you refer to His Radiance,” admonished Lady Branford quickly. “You never know what ears might be listening.”
Lord Branford scoffed, swept his sleeves in irritation, then turned to his son. “Have you done something, Terence? Have you not been servicing your lord well?”
“Dear, please.”
“As Concubine, you have a duty to keep the Emperor’s attention on you, to keep him besotted to your charms. Why have I read reports that the Emperor has not mounted you?”
“Dear-”
Terence started, his hands dropping from his face. “Pardon?”
Instead of answering, Lord Branford asked, “What have you to say for yourself?”
“What do you mean by reports?” countered Terence. “Have you been spying on me?”
“What is there to spy on? There are thousands of officials working in this palace. Simply slipping a bag full of coins is enough to loosen one’s tongue and reveal goings-on that they have been privy to, with them always in the background, ignored, treated as though they were invisible. And the Royal Coital Transcriber is not above putting his greed before his duty. He easily opened his book for me for a peek into the imperial chamber activities. And do you know what it showed? That it has been years since you’ve serviced His Radiance despite the fact that he comes to your courtyard every night.”
Terence shook his head in disbelief, hands curling into fists on the armrests of his chair. The Royal Coital Transcriber was an imperial official whose job was to record the Emperor’s sexual activities: noting down the date, the identity of the partner, the location it happened in, the number of times the intercourse transpired - especially if ejaculation occurred within the partner. The information recorded therein was most especially pertinent during a rut or heat, and could aid in confirming whether the resulting offspring was legitimate. Although since over the past years with the Emperor practicing abstinence, the Royal Coital Transcriber had been lax in his work.
Lord Branford continued, “Remember, Terence, that it was your love for the Emperor that raised our family to such heights as even our ancestors had never dared achieve before. And I will not allow you to ruin us. As the Emperor’s favourite, you have a duty to your family. House Branford shall prosper forever, descendants upon descendants, and you will do everything you can - you must - to keep the Emperor's love. Make sure his eyes remain upon you.
“We must not lose our standing. This glory for your family is something you've deservedly earned in gaining His Radiance's love. We are nothing without his love for you. And so you must work hard to keep his eyes and his heart on you. Plead with him. Make him take heed of you. Your brother’s life is on the line. Our family's honour is at stake. So whatever it was you did that made His Radiance so besotted towards you and even go so far as to cast aside the Phoenix himself - I require you to call upon that, whatever that was.”
Lips in an unhappy twist, Terence replied, “Father, our relationship is not as it once was.”
“Then use your wiles. Turn to potion, if you must!”
“Father, to even speak of poisoning his Radiance is treason.”
Lord Branford rolled his eyes. “An aphrodisiac is not poison, Terence. Have you lost your wits?
The Shining Concubine sighed, exasperated and resigned. “His eyes have been turned from me, Father. It would not matter what I do as I have been the furthest thing from his mind.”
“That cannot be, Terence! That must not be!”
“What am I compared to the Phoenix?”
“And yet the Emperor keeps himself in your courtyard instead of his.”
“I know not what their actual circumstances are that that should be the status of how they are currently living, but I can tell you this, Father: there is nothing I could do or say to the Emperor that would make him change his mind about Trevor, especially since my brother infringed upon what seems to be the Emperor’s private time with the Consort.”
“You don’t know unless you try. And you must, at the very least, try. For us. Your family. Think of your sister Therese, so recently engaged to House Chagnie. A scandal of this magnitude could enable the Chagnie to break the engagement, and we cannot afford to have that happen.”
“Father…”
“Just plead with His Radiance, Terence. Ask him to release your brother from the imperial gaol, and issue his forgiveness in public-”
“-What-”
“To preserve our family’s standing.”
Helplessly, Terence shook his head. “You ask for too much, Father. I pray you to please stay your ambition.”
Ascending the short steps to where Terence sat, Lord Branford pointed at his son. “There is no such thing as too much when it comes to House Branford, Terence. You paved the way for us. Now, it is your duty still to maintain that path.”
That morning found the Consort Phoenix in the imperial gallery, ambling leisurely through the halls to peer at portraits of the emperors of times past. One area was especially sectioned for portraits of the Emperors Bahamut with their respective Consorts Phoenix, with the site reserved for the sixteenth still empty as Dion and Joshua had never had the time before to think about issuing a commission for theirs. In a stark contrast to the regal and dignified images of the empire’s voted rulers - usually posed in a three-quarter view and wearing the ostentatious fashions of their times - the ones of the Consorts with their respective Emperors were more of an intimate nature almost akin to those found among the pages of romance and erotic literature.
Beside Joshua was Desiree, the imperial official in charge of gallery showings, and she had been a great source of knowledge about the history of the figures displayed, especially for the one that Joshua specifically came for.
“This is Larsa Solidor,” she was saying, gesturing towards the painting of a young man that Joshua recognized as Lamont, except with dark hair instead of silver, flowing over his shoulders by some unseen source of wind. “The Twelfth Emperor Bahamut with his Consort Phoenix, Penelo.” She indicated to the young blonde woman clutched by the man in the picture. She had a bare leg over his hip with her bodice half-opened over her heaving bosom as they stared lustfully at each other. There was something rather incongruous with the contrast presented in the portraits versus the historical anecdote being told of them that Joshua almost had a hard time reconciling the two sources of media. “When Larsa was younger, he had a habit of escaping his security guards and chaperones, and exploring on his own. He introduced himself as Lamont on these excursions.”
Ah, thought Joshua. So that’s how the Emperor came by that name.
“And it’s in one of these excursions that he came to meet the one who would later awaken as the Phoenix, Penelo. She was of impoverished background. An orphan whose parents perished in war, taken in and raised by a shopkeeper. At the time of their meeting, she had been working as a dancer for the local troupe. She is Larsa’s senior by four years, meeting when he was twelve and she sixteen.”
Desiree opened her mouth to continue, but Joshua raised his hand, signalling that there was no need, giving her a smile as thanks for her service as she bowed and took her leave. Examining the features that had grown familiar in the scant few months of their acquaintance, Joshua couldn’t help wondering how Emperor Dion had managed to achieve such a transformation.
In the same way you can transform into a giant fiery bird, the Phoenix readily answered.
The redhead blinked, taken aback, and couldn’t help but pout at that. That’s it? That easy?
Why should it not be?
Joshua pursed his lips as he thought, then sighed, strolling once more to peruse the other paintings of his and Dion’s predecessors, lips curling wryly at the display of half-mast eyes full of desire, hairs flowing in errant breezes, bodies in various stages of disrobement and passionately entwined. Indeed. Why not?
Simply because the ability and the possibility were there did not mean that one should utilize such power whenever and wherever. Joshua was aware that both the Phoenix and Bahamut have such a scope of power that he could not even begin to fathom, and it was not in the Eikons to reveal to their shells everything that they were capable of, knowing all too well how far human greed would dare go if given the chance.
For himself, Joshua would not say that greed had ever been one of his vices. He had long ago learned to not succumb to the temptation of it. What was the use of it when he had been destined to stand at the pinnacle and be the ruler of all, the owner of everything? All he needed to do was to step forward and stake his claim, and no one would dare refuse him of what was rightfully his. Except, of course, for the setback of the last few years-but truly that was unimportant in the grand scheme of things.
Mind clear with a sound plan, he took a deep breath, then with his maidservants following, made his way back to his courtyard. There was something important he had to prepare.
The Consort Phoenix caused quite a stir in the kitchen situated near the back of his courtyard, the staff stopping in their tracks and hurriedly bowing when he entered. Blue gaze roving, he stepped forward, examining various baskets and shelves that held spices, herbs, vegetables, fish, and meats, pots, utensils, and various cooking accoutrements.
The Head Chef nervously stepped forward, and curtseyed awkwardly as she addressed him, “How may we be of service, Your Majesty?”
The redhead peered down at a basket of greens, not spying what he was looking for among them. “Is there, perhaps, any carrots somewhere?”
“C-carrots?!” exclaimed the Head Chef, clutching at her chest and eyes wide in surprise.
“Carrots?!” murmured the kitchen staff in various stages of incredulity, including the maidservants that had followed Joshua.
Lips trembling, the Head Chef fell to her knees. “Your Majesty, we apologize. We have never had carrots delivered to the courtyard since we have learned of your dislike for them. We have always made sure they are never included in any of the meals served to you.”
Joshua smiled, feeling abashed. “Yes, thank you. You have my appreciation for your mindfulness and care. But I am only looking for one or two pieces of the dreadful things. Is there any chance they can be procured?”
“Dreadful…” the Head Chef mouthed puzzledly, then remembered herself. “Of course! As you wish, Your Majesty.” She signalled to a staff, who immediately set on the table the bowl of sauce he had been clutching and hurriedly made to leave.
“Just one or two pieces, please,” specified Joshua.
“Y-yes, Your Majesty!” The staff bobbed his head vigorously as he backed out of the kitchen.
“Thank you.” Joshua turned to the Head Chef and bid her rise. “Maeve, is it?”
Nodding earnestly as she stood, she answered, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The redhead smiled. “Can you show me where you cook?”
Much like the Consort’s courtyard, the Emperor also had a training ground in his, especially designed for the dragoon jump ability that Dion was fond of practicing. There were platforms of various levels around the perimeter, all facing the landing area set at the centre of the grounds, given a wide berth by the attendants and knights who were unwilling to be caught in the crossfire of the power behind the Emperor’s landings. The blond was hefting one of his favourite halberds, adjusting his grip at its familiar weight. Standing at the ready at one of the highest-tier platforms, he gauged the type of jump suitable for the distance and height, noting the direction of the wind current in the air.
But the training ground’s usual backdrop of noise was disturbed, the knights and various attendants at the site at a commotion and disturbed Dion’s concentration. At his periphery, he noticed the susurrus of their greetings and bows to the surprise visitor who stood at the entrance. Dion couldn’t help frowning, huffing in annoyance.
“His Majesty, the Consort Phoenix,” breathlessly murmured his attendant Cole beside him, voice and expression awash with wonder as he bent at the waist, and Dion quickly whipped around.
Sure enough, a vision in copper, gold, teal, and chartreuse stood at the gates, hair and robes billowing in the breeze. The bright blue gaze was curious as they roamed over the grounds, brightening with a smile as they found Dion up on high. The blond sucked in a breath at seeing a smile on both lips and eyes directed at him, as him, as Dion Lesage, and he couldn’t help staggering back as though physically hit with the force of it. Remembering he’d had such a smile sent his way as Lamont a number of times, each time a lament that it was not to his true self, but felt grateful to have received it nonetheless. Suddenly invigorated, Dion found himself standing taller, chest swelling with excitement and incomparable happiness, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he sent his Consort a salute with his halberd before soaring off of the platform. At the apex of his jump, Dion somersaulted-and as though time had slowed, his movements were clearly and fluidly displayed, graceful and packed such a power that when he landed the ground burst in a shower of sparks of light and aether. The smirk was still in place as he gazed expectantly at Joshua, thoroughly pleased with himself for showing off an amazing feat in front of his omega.
The redhead was smiling and clapping delightedly along with the rest of the spectators, but all Dion could see was that bright figure waiting for him at the gate, his heart full with the sense of home elicited by the sight. With swift steps he hurried along, pleased beyond belief at seeing Joshua meet him halfway. His breath was stuck in his chest when the redhead threw himself at him, and it released in a laugh as Dion twirled him in his arms.
I’ve been such a fool, he thought, berating himself for the umpteenth time even as he squeezed Joshua tighter, and the ongoing giggle at his ears was like the best music Dion had ever heard. To have missed out on this all this time.
Never again.
I am never letting go.
A/N: my course hasn’t lightened at all, and I’m still not free from due dates. As we speak I’m writing fic instead of concentrating on the one that’s on a time crunch, but I need me some break, need me some PhoenixFlare so here this chapter is, finally!!!
Larsa Solidor and Penelo: characters from Final Fantasy XII (imagine a grown up version of them in their 20’s lol)
Those past Bahamuts and Phoenixes were really into each other, even going so far as to have their own version of romance novel covers as portraits lol. It’d be fun when it’s Dion and Joshua’s turn to have their own painted.
And I couldn’t resist having a version of the Stonhyrr hug. So, hope you enjoyed that bit too ^_^
Thanks for reading :)
Oct/2023
=========================
previous chapter | next chapter
author: caledon (the_tower_room)
pairing: Dion/Joshua
rating: E
summary: Having been born the Phoenix meant Joshua was destined to be by Bahamut’s side as his consort.
He didn’t know what he was expecting, but certainly not the situation he found himself in.
Omegaverse AU.
words: 4033
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy XVI belongs to Square Enix.
Chapter 5: Morning for You and Morning for Me
As had been the case for the past few years, the Emperor was late in getting to the Concubine’s bed that no announcements were needed. Per usual, he had not required the Concubine’s services and stayed only to sleep. And as always, he awoke early before the break of dawn, with his attendants silent and swift as they readied and dressed the Emperor for the day. And as unannounced as he came the night before, was gone to perform his duties to the empire.
In bed, Terence blinked awake and not for the first time wondered how they came to be like this. The passion had dissipated seemingly out of nowhere, like mists that quickly evaporated with the advent of the sun; desire had gone cold and empty. As though they were simply people who happened to share a bed, nothing but sleep as their activity. Likewise, of the friendship they had before, it had been difficult to obtain and regain the easy camaraderie of yore.
Terence recalled thinking before, seeming so long ago, that before the emperor's gaze was the world, and that there was no room for him upon that gaze when the Phoenix was just beyond the horizon. And how right he was, for after the Consort Phoenix arrived, even though Emperor Bahamut as promised came to him in his courtyard, those golden brown eyes were as though mesmerized and magnetized, ever turned towards the firebird just beyond his reach, so close and yet so far. The Emperor might have kept himself away from the Consort and stayed with the Concubine, but to Terence, it was not a victory worth celebrating when the feelings that the Emperor once held for him felt as though they never existed.
Six years ago when the Emperor retained his dragon form and the ruling of the empire had come to a halt, Terence had felt suffocated. Part of him wished he hadn't developed those feelings for the lonely Crown Prince, to have wanted a piece of something beyond himself. A concept abstract and abstruse, unpalpable for mere mortal hands to reach for. But it was always the most unattainable that was the most desirable that he was willing to trespass against fate. And oh how did he lived to regret it. He remembered being mired by confusion, by grief. Heart suffused with so much ache, and the source of it was unapproachable because dealing with a dragon was altogether a different story than the human counterpart. So many tears did Terence shed, and his maidservant Leviana bore witness to most of them. His head had been cradled against her chest, and his tears had gotten her garments wet. And in the steady heartbeat by his ear he longed for an escape; he was tired of crying. One small kiss led to a prolonged series of kisses, and then the melding of bodies. And then the inevitable result of that: Kihel. He had lived in a constant state of fear: of being found out, of losing everything. And yet the dragon merely gave him a knowing smile - as though somehow, that act of passion with his maidservant had been witnessed through the walls of his courtyard - before ceding the form back to his human vessel, and the Emperor's eyes had lost the warmth that they had once held for him.
And yet, despite it all, the Emperor never failed to return to him at night; always by Terence’s side, even if not in his arms.
Up to this day, he still hadn't understood why or how he had managed to get away with transgressing against the crown, but he could feel a metaphorical clock ticking down the end of his days. It was only a matter of when.
Sighing, he sat up, and at his movements his maidservants greeted him, and set on to ready him for the day.
As was usual, the morning was spent with his daughter, Kihel. After breakfast he brought her to the study where he sat with her to begin her lessons for the day. Terence couldn’t help mourning the fact that she had to be hidden from the world; her existence constrained only to the denizens of his courtyard whom he trusted to keep her identity secret. As such, he could only provide her education himself, as requesting for a tutor or even sending her to the palace school would not be wise given her status as a Concubine's illegitimate child. Nonetheless, he could only be proud of her progress, his own learnings from years past proving to be of great benefit. Watching her purse her lips in concentration as she practiced her letters on the paper, he felt his heart swell with love and pride, and he couldn’t help patting her on the head with a smile.
A knock on the door interrupted their time, and one of his attendants announced, “Lord and Lady Branford have come to seek an audience, Shining Concubine.”
Terence sat back, a slight frown marring his brow. A visit so early in the morning? he wondered to himself. Letting out a breath, he squeezed Kihel’s shoulder.
“Papa?” the girl turned to look at him, head tilted in curiosity.
Smiling, he said, “Please continue with your letters, Kihel. I will be with you anon.” Then turned to one of the maidservants by the door. “Please look after her, Briony.”
“As you wish, Shining Concubine.”
Then he turned to the maidservant not far from the desk. “With me, Leviana.”
“As you wish, Shining Concubine.” Then Terence led the way to the receiving room where his parents waited.
Upon his entrance, they bowed as was custom, only rising once he was seated on the great chair set upon a daïs across from the door. “Greetings, Mother and Father. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“Terence-” Lord Branford sternly began, but was elbowed by his wife and he was reminded to correct his address. “Shining Concubine. We came to implore you to plead on our family’s behalf.”
Blue-grey eyes blinked, and Terence felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Pray, what has happened?”
“Your brother has been put in gaol!”
The Shining Concubine blinked. Is that not a place that Trevor frequented from all the misconduct and misbehaviour he continually engaged in? he found himself thinking, then instead voiced, “Pardon?”
In a tremulous voice and eyes lit with tears, Lady Branford specified, “The imperial gaol, my dear.”
Imperial gaol, Terence repeated in his head, collapsing against the back of the chair. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself and get a better picture of the situation. His brother Trevor Branford had been all too confident in the power and reputation Terence wielded in the palace, unafraid to ruffle feathers hither and yon that, really, it was simply inevitable that his brother would find himself offending the wrong person with his unchecked deplorable behaviour. And being placed in the imperial gaol could only mean one thing:
“The Emperor put him there,” rasped Terence out loud.
“Yes,” confirmed Lady Branford with a wince.
It would be a different story if it was the usual city gaol: Lord Branford could simply post the bail for Trevor (as he usually did whenever this uncouth son of his found himself there again), or barring that, bribe gaolers and court officials alike if need arose. But the imperial gaol was a different story: it must truly be such a capital offence - or one of such equal - that the emperor himself would deign to act in putting a person there.
“What happened?” asked Terence.
Lord Branford harrumphed. “There had been news going around all morning that the Emperor and the Consort were seen together - disguised, at that - for a night out at the town! And that it was your brother who had revealed their identities-or at least, the Consort’s identity. And Trevor then proceeded to accuse the Consort of fraternizing with the man he was there with, only for that other man to turn out to be the Emperor. It angered His Radiance so much that he dropped his disguise and turned into Bahamut, and then had your brother arrested by the guards.”
Terence ran his hands over his face, digesting what he had just been told. The Emperor and the Consort together… With his heart crumbling he recalled the evening before when the Emperor suddenly said he must leave because he had an appointment in the middle of the romantic sunset dinner that Terence had set up for the two of them. He felt as though he was being cheated on - as strange as that sounded in the kind of society they lived in where any alpha, beta, or even sometimes omega, of good standing were allowed one spouse and as many concubines as they could afford to keep. But even though Terence had come through the Emperor's palace doors first, he was and could only be a titled Concubine, whereas Joshua Rosfield as the Phoenix was the legal spouse by default, even before they had ever met.
Restlessly, Lord Branford forgot Terence’s higher status, not waiting to be granted permission to move and instead gave in to his urge, pacing tensely in the receiving room. “What has changed, Terence, huh? Why is the Emperor now, after all this time, suddenly panting after the Consort like a dog in rut-”
“-Dear, please watch how you refer to His Radiance,” admonished Lady Branford quickly. “You never know what ears might be listening.”
Lord Branford scoffed, swept his sleeves in irritation, then turned to his son. “Have you done something, Terence? Have you not been servicing your lord well?”
“Dear, please.”
“As Concubine, you have a duty to keep the Emperor’s attention on you, to keep him besotted to your charms. Why have I read reports that the Emperor has not mounted you?”
“Dear-”
Terence started, his hands dropping from his face. “Pardon?”
Instead of answering, Lord Branford asked, “What have you to say for yourself?”
“What do you mean by reports?” countered Terence. “Have you been spying on me?”
“What is there to spy on? There are thousands of officials working in this palace. Simply slipping a bag full of coins is enough to loosen one’s tongue and reveal goings-on that they have been privy to, with them always in the background, ignored, treated as though they were invisible. And the Royal Coital Transcriber is not above putting his greed before his duty. He easily opened his book for me for a peek into the imperial chamber activities. And do you know what it showed? That it has been years since you’ve serviced His Radiance despite the fact that he comes to your courtyard every night.”
Terence shook his head in disbelief, hands curling into fists on the armrests of his chair. The Royal Coital Transcriber was an imperial official whose job was to record the Emperor’s sexual activities: noting down the date, the identity of the partner, the location it happened in, the number of times the intercourse transpired - especially if ejaculation occurred within the partner. The information recorded therein was most especially pertinent during a rut or heat, and could aid in confirming whether the resulting offspring was legitimate. Although since over the past years with the Emperor practicing abstinence, the Royal Coital Transcriber had been lax in his work.
Lord Branford continued, “Remember, Terence, that it was your love for the Emperor that raised our family to such heights as even our ancestors had never dared achieve before. And I will not allow you to ruin us. As the Emperor’s favourite, you have a duty to your family. House Branford shall prosper forever, descendants upon descendants, and you will do everything you can - you must - to keep the Emperor's love. Make sure his eyes remain upon you.
“We must not lose our standing. This glory for your family is something you've deservedly earned in gaining His Radiance's love. We are nothing without his love for you. And so you must work hard to keep his eyes and his heart on you. Plead with him. Make him take heed of you. Your brother’s life is on the line. Our family's honour is at stake. So whatever it was you did that made His Radiance so besotted towards you and even go so far as to cast aside the Phoenix himself - I require you to call upon that, whatever that was.”
Lips in an unhappy twist, Terence replied, “Father, our relationship is not as it once was.”
“Then use your wiles. Turn to potion, if you must!”
“Father, to even speak of poisoning his Radiance is treason.”
Lord Branford rolled his eyes. “An aphrodisiac is not poison, Terence. Have you lost your wits?
The Shining Concubine sighed, exasperated and resigned. “His eyes have been turned from me, Father. It would not matter what I do as I have been the furthest thing from his mind.”
“That cannot be, Terence! That must not be!”
“What am I compared to the Phoenix?”
“And yet the Emperor keeps himself in your courtyard instead of his.”
“I know not what their actual circumstances are that that should be the status of how they are currently living, but I can tell you this, Father: there is nothing I could do or say to the Emperor that would make him change his mind about Trevor, especially since my brother infringed upon what seems to be the Emperor’s private time with the Consort.”
“You don’t know unless you try. And you must, at the very least, try. For us. Your family. Think of your sister Therese, so recently engaged to House Chagnie. A scandal of this magnitude could enable the Chagnie to break the engagement, and we cannot afford to have that happen.”
“Father…”
“Just plead with His Radiance, Terence. Ask him to release your brother from the imperial gaol, and issue his forgiveness in public-”
“-What-”
“To preserve our family’s standing.”
Helplessly, Terence shook his head. “You ask for too much, Father. I pray you to please stay your ambition.”
Ascending the short steps to where Terence sat, Lord Branford pointed at his son. “There is no such thing as too much when it comes to House Branford, Terence. You paved the way for us. Now, it is your duty still to maintain that path.”
That morning found the Consort Phoenix in the imperial gallery, ambling leisurely through the halls to peer at portraits of the emperors of times past. One area was especially sectioned for portraits of the Emperors Bahamut with their respective Consorts Phoenix, with the site reserved for the sixteenth still empty as Dion and Joshua had never had the time before to think about issuing a commission for theirs. In a stark contrast to the regal and dignified images of the empire’s voted rulers - usually posed in a three-quarter view and wearing the ostentatious fashions of their times - the ones of the Consorts with their respective Emperors were more of an intimate nature almost akin to those found among the pages of romance and erotic literature.
Beside Joshua was Desiree, the imperial official in charge of gallery showings, and she had been a great source of knowledge about the history of the figures displayed, especially for the one that Joshua specifically came for.
“This is Larsa Solidor,” she was saying, gesturing towards the painting of a young man that Joshua recognized as Lamont, except with dark hair instead of silver, flowing over his shoulders by some unseen source of wind. “The Twelfth Emperor Bahamut with his Consort Phoenix, Penelo.” She indicated to the young blonde woman clutched by the man in the picture. She had a bare leg over his hip with her bodice half-opened over her heaving bosom as they stared lustfully at each other. There was something rather incongruous with the contrast presented in the portraits versus the historical anecdote being told of them that Joshua almost had a hard time reconciling the two sources of media. “When Larsa was younger, he had a habit of escaping his security guards and chaperones, and exploring on his own. He introduced himself as Lamont on these excursions.”
Ah, thought Joshua. So that’s how the Emperor came by that name.
“And it’s in one of these excursions that he came to meet the one who would later awaken as the Phoenix, Penelo. She was of impoverished background. An orphan whose parents perished in war, taken in and raised by a shopkeeper. At the time of their meeting, she had been working as a dancer for the local troupe. She is Larsa’s senior by four years, meeting when he was twelve and she sixteen.”
Desiree opened her mouth to continue, but Joshua raised his hand, signalling that there was no need, giving her a smile as thanks for her service as she bowed and took her leave. Examining the features that had grown familiar in the scant few months of their acquaintance, Joshua couldn’t help wondering how Emperor Dion had managed to achieve such a transformation.
In the same way you can transform into a giant fiery bird, the Phoenix readily answered.
The redhead blinked, taken aback, and couldn’t help but pout at that. That’s it? That easy?
Why should it not be?
Joshua pursed his lips as he thought, then sighed, strolling once more to peruse the other paintings of his and Dion’s predecessors, lips curling wryly at the display of half-mast eyes full of desire, hairs flowing in errant breezes, bodies in various stages of disrobement and passionately entwined. Indeed. Why not?
Simply because the ability and the possibility were there did not mean that one should utilize such power whenever and wherever. Joshua was aware that both the Phoenix and Bahamut have such a scope of power that he could not even begin to fathom, and it was not in the Eikons to reveal to their shells everything that they were capable of, knowing all too well how far human greed would dare go if given the chance.
For himself, Joshua would not say that greed had ever been one of his vices. He had long ago learned to not succumb to the temptation of it. What was the use of it when he had been destined to stand at the pinnacle and be the ruler of all, the owner of everything? All he needed to do was to step forward and stake his claim, and no one would dare refuse him of what was rightfully his. Except, of course, for the setback of the last few years-but truly that was unimportant in the grand scheme of things.
Mind clear with a sound plan, he took a deep breath, then with his maidservants following, made his way back to his courtyard. There was something important he had to prepare.
The Consort Phoenix caused quite a stir in the kitchen situated near the back of his courtyard, the staff stopping in their tracks and hurriedly bowing when he entered. Blue gaze roving, he stepped forward, examining various baskets and shelves that held spices, herbs, vegetables, fish, and meats, pots, utensils, and various cooking accoutrements.
The Head Chef nervously stepped forward, and curtseyed awkwardly as she addressed him, “How may we be of service, Your Majesty?”
The redhead peered down at a basket of greens, not spying what he was looking for among them. “Is there, perhaps, any carrots somewhere?”
“C-carrots?!” exclaimed the Head Chef, clutching at her chest and eyes wide in surprise.
“Carrots?!” murmured the kitchen staff in various stages of incredulity, including the maidservants that had followed Joshua.
Lips trembling, the Head Chef fell to her knees. “Your Majesty, we apologize. We have never had carrots delivered to the courtyard since we have learned of your dislike for them. We have always made sure they are never included in any of the meals served to you.”
Joshua smiled, feeling abashed. “Yes, thank you. You have my appreciation for your mindfulness and care. But I am only looking for one or two pieces of the dreadful things. Is there any chance they can be procured?”
“Dreadful…” the Head Chef mouthed puzzledly, then remembered herself. “Of course! As you wish, Your Majesty.” She signalled to a staff, who immediately set on the table the bowl of sauce he had been clutching and hurriedly made to leave.
“Just one or two pieces, please,” specified Joshua.
“Y-yes, Your Majesty!” The staff bobbed his head vigorously as he backed out of the kitchen.
“Thank you.” Joshua turned to the Head Chef and bid her rise. “Maeve, is it?”
Nodding earnestly as she stood, she answered, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The redhead smiled. “Can you show me where you cook?”
Much like the Consort’s courtyard, the Emperor also had a training ground in his, especially designed for the dragoon jump ability that Dion was fond of practicing. There were platforms of various levels around the perimeter, all facing the landing area set at the centre of the grounds, given a wide berth by the attendants and knights who were unwilling to be caught in the crossfire of the power behind the Emperor’s landings. The blond was hefting one of his favourite halberds, adjusting his grip at its familiar weight. Standing at the ready at one of the highest-tier platforms, he gauged the type of jump suitable for the distance and height, noting the direction of the wind current in the air.
But the training ground’s usual backdrop of noise was disturbed, the knights and various attendants at the site at a commotion and disturbed Dion’s concentration. At his periphery, he noticed the susurrus of their greetings and bows to the surprise visitor who stood at the entrance. Dion couldn’t help frowning, huffing in annoyance.
“His Majesty, the Consort Phoenix,” breathlessly murmured his attendant Cole beside him, voice and expression awash with wonder as he bent at the waist, and Dion quickly whipped around.
Sure enough, a vision in copper, gold, teal, and chartreuse stood at the gates, hair and robes billowing in the breeze. The bright blue gaze was curious as they roamed over the grounds, brightening with a smile as they found Dion up on high. The blond sucked in a breath at seeing a smile on both lips and eyes directed at him, as him, as Dion Lesage, and he couldn’t help staggering back as though physically hit with the force of it. Remembering he’d had such a smile sent his way as Lamont a number of times, each time a lament that it was not to his true self, but felt grateful to have received it nonetheless. Suddenly invigorated, Dion found himself standing taller, chest swelling with excitement and incomparable happiness, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he sent his Consort a salute with his halberd before soaring off of the platform. At the apex of his jump, Dion somersaulted-and as though time had slowed, his movements were clearly and fluidly displayed, graceful and packed such a power that when he landed the ground burst in a shower of sparks of light and aether. The smirk was still in place as he gazed expectantly at Joshua, thoroughly pleased with himself for showing off an amazing feat in front of his omega.
The redhead was smiling and clapping delightedly along with the rest of the spectators, but all Dion could see was that bright figure waiting for him at the gate, his heart full with the sense of home elicited by the sight. With swift steps he hurried along, pleased beyond belief at seeing Joshua meet him halfway. His breath was stuck in his chest when the redhead threw himself at him, and it released in a laugh as Dion twirled him in his arms.
I’ve been such a fool, he thought, berating himself for the umpteenth time even as he squeezed Joshua tighter, and the ongoing giggle at his ears was like the best music Dion had ever heard. To have missed out on this all this time.
Never again.
I am never letting go.
A/N: my course hasn’t lightened at all, and I’m still not free from due dates. As we speak I’m writing fic instead of concentrating on the one that’s on a time crunch, but I need me some break, need me some PhoenixFlare so here this chapter is, finally!!!
Larsa Solidor and Penelo: characters from Final Fantasy XII (imagine a grown up version of them in their 20’s lol)
Those past Bahamuts and Phoenixes were really into each other, even going so far as to have their own version of romance novel covers as portraits lol. It’d be fun when it’s Dion and Joshua’s turn to have their own painted.
And I couldn’t resist having a version of the Stonhyrr hug. So, hope you enjoyed that bit too ^_^
Thanks for reading :)
Oct/2023
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