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Chapter Text

They find her kneeling in front of the Exarchs crystal form, face drawn and shoulders hunched. She is almost more statuesque than he; not moving at all until Thancred places a hand on her shoulder. Silently they descend the tower and while her companions shoot worried glances her way she stays silent until they're all outside and she monotonously relays the tale of Elidibus' fall, the only thing giving her emotions away being a visible wince when Beq Lugg joins them and asks about the Exarch.

Then the Scions move to leave.

"Don't -" Its a hoarse whisper, a plea, a cry for help she has not allowed herself since a spear of light tore through the sky of Ishgard and showed her what it means to bear the mantle of Hero. A burden followed by several others like pearls on a string that have over time morphed and molded themselves to her until the weight has become something like home, unnoticable in the way it has settled on her slumped shoulders.

Now however, she feels it keenly and openly and on the steps to the Dossal Gate she almost crumbles under it. "Don't go yet." They all stop, turning to look at her. A flare of anger steals her breath because they keep doing this, patting her on the back and walking away to attend to their own business - Surely the Warrior will be alright? Surely the vaunted Hero of two worlds has no need for comfort beyond empty words?

Y'shtola opens her mouth to say something and looks almost guilty but the Warrior cuts her off before she can speak. "You would leave me here then? With this knowledge? So much for our friendship," she spits and she knows that she is being unfair, the flash of hurt on Alphinaud's face and the tightening of Thancred's fists telling her as much - but the ache in her chest roars louder than any qualms she has about hurting her dearest family and it feels good to give it voice, she wants to scream and scream and scream until it's all gone somewhere else because she cannot bear it anymore.

"We -" Ryne starts to say but thinks better of it, growing silent in the face of the Warriors apparent agitation.

"Time and again, I have faced the odds. I have gone where you told me to go, fought what you told me to fight so is it too much to ask for a simple moment before you all leave me again?" A hand pressed over her chest as if she can force the anguish down, bile rising in her throat as her words ring louder. "You tell me to rest as if I can find it in an empty innroom when you are supposed to - supposed to -" The weakness of begging. She hates it, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her trembling hand down harder. No one says anything and she chokes on a sob, the cool night air of the Crystarium stinging on her flushed cheeks.

"We hath… Done you the greatest disservice, my friend." Uriangers smooth voice comes much from much closer than she expected and when she chances a glance she sees that he's knelt down, looking up at her with knit eyebrows. Beq Lugg murmurs something and in the corner of her eye she sees them shoo away curious bystanders, leaving her with just the Scions. The Warrior feels ragged and ugly, like an open wound brought into light for everyone to gape at. This was why it was easier for her to straighten her back; to grin and bear whatever may come. Being vulnerable, showing everyone the scared woman behind the titles, felt like calling attention to a fraud.

A smile better suits a hero.

She had promised him then that she would smile and she had, smiled, nodded, never let anything show as getting to her because she was supposed to be strong. Supposed to bear it all and then some more because if she did then everything would be fine and the day the weight crushed her she would bring its secrets into the grave.

A sigh to her left and she startles as Alisiae's thin arm slides around the Warriors shoulder, the young Elezen looking away from her with an unhappy frown. "I did promise you to not leave you alone to fight, and look how well I've been keeping it." Urianger is still kneeling in front of her, gently grabbing both her hands in his much larger ones, rubbing over her knuckles and breathing some warmth into them. Slowly but surely her family gathers around, Ryne stroking her hair and Alphinaud her back, Y'shtola and Thancred standing steady at either side of her.

The ache that had been unbearable slowly settles down and she finds she can breathe again.

"We're sorry," Ryne says - always the first one to want to speak, to comfort. "None of us thought about how this must feel for you." The Warrior ducks her head as the mortification of lashing out like this at her friends catches up. They had been by her side through thick and thin and given her no reason to ever doubt them. She loved them and thats why it hurt that they could not see the anguish on her even when it felt like it should shine through her skin, Elidibus last words echoing in her mind. He, just like her, had only tried to do what was best for those he held dear. It scared her to think that they were alike, that she could be driven to the brink of madness just like him. If she never got to see G'raha again, what would she do to bring him back?

"Yeah," Thancred follows, voice unusually gentle. "We all know he meant a lot to you. And you will see each other again, of that I'm sure."

The Warrior fights off the urge to argue with him because how could she explain in a way that made sense? What the constellation stones she carried in her pockets meant? That everytime she lost someone she felt like a little bit of herself followed them to the aetherial sea? Urianger squeezes her hands and when she catches his gaze he gives her a small smile.

"I daresay we haveth the time to postpone our respective journeys for a night. If only to see to it that our friend gets a wink of sleep."

"You have the right of it, Urianger," Y'shtola responds, tapping her fist against her chin in that signature way of hers. "We have neglected our duties as friends."

Alphinaud clears his throat and when he speaks she realises he must have been crying, voice thick. "Right. To the pendants then."

Affection surges through the Warrior as Alisaie helps her on her feet, pointedly huffing as she pokes Urianger with the side of her foot. The Scions take up postions around her as they move toward the inn and while she would normally protest the gesture, tonight it just makes her grateful. The innkeep does not say anything as they filter past him and when they enter her suite the Warrior sighs, assuming this breath of respite is done. She turns to thank them when she catches Y'shtola setting her staff against the wall and Alisaie toeing off her boots, the twin sniffing at her flabbergasted expression.

"What? We're obviously not leaving you alone tonight."

Urianger is halfway to the kettle already and Alphinaud silently takes her lance from her, shooting her a quick and wobbly smile. Ryne is curiously examining the many bits and bobs from the Source she has scattered around and Thancred is rooting through her cupboards, making a triumphant exclamation as he pulls out a platter of cheese.

"I knew they gave you the good stuff."

"You - Don't you need -" The Warrior stammers and Y'shtola smirks.

"I recall a certain someone telling us we were not free to go just yet."

This is why she carried that weight. The Warrior swallows around the lump in her throat and goes to open the balcony doors, hoping that the crisp air would help keep her from bursting into tears again. Behind her Urianger and Thancred starts to bicker over the merits of having tea with cheese and Y'shtola is telling Ryne about the orchestrion scrolls she keeps, the Miqo'te humming along as she picks out the Homestead one the Warrior picked up in Idyllshire.

Alphinaud and Alisaie walk up to her and she wants to tell them exactly what this means to her but she can't find the words. Instead she puts her arms around both their shoulders and squeeze them to her, trying with all her might to convey the love she bears for all of them. Alisaie flushes a dark red and shoves weakly at her, scowling as Alphinaud laughs. It is perfect; her heart feels like it might burst.

"Do you think we'll all fit on the bed?" Thancred muses outloud once they have all had something to eat and drink, barely suppressing a yawn. "Because I for one would not say no to some shut-eye."

"It depends," The Warrior shoots Alisaie an appraising look. "How much do you kick?" Alisaies eyes widen and she sputters indignantly.

"I resent that implication!"

"That means 'a lot'," Alphinaud helpfully supplies, sipping on his tea with a smug expression.

"You kick just as much if not more." Alisaie hisses at him , looking like she might grab her rapier at any second. Thankfully Y'shtola steps between them, clearing her throat.

"I think we all could do with a spot of sleep." Y'shtola says.

"Only one way to find out then," Thancred stands up and pats Ryne's head and the girl startles awake, having dozed off on one of the chairs. "Come on."

The Warrior finds herself pulled along by Thancred until he shoves her down on the bed, looking over her with a critical eye. "Urianger," he barks and the Elezen man sighs, making his way over. The absurdity of the situation makes the Warrior giggle, slinging an arm over her face with a grin as Thancred mutters, "You're not helping."

After a bit of huffing and puffing Thancred has apparently arranged them to his liking, nodding proudly with his arms crossed. Urianger has been shoved against the wall to 'act as the longest buffer' and the Warrior is bundled up next to him, her back against his broad chest. Ryne is curled up on her side next to the Warrior with Y'shtola at her feet, the sorceress stating that she preferred to rest sitting against the wall to which Thancred had rolled his eyes. Alphinaud and Alisaie got plonked down next to Ryne despite their protestations and finally Thancred shoves himself unto the truly too-small mattress, reaching over the three smallest Scions in a bastardized sort of bearhug. The Warrior feels Thancreds hand rest against her hip where he holds onto Ryne, and Uriangers breath tickling her ear. Its cramped and really should be awful by all accounts, but it is at the same time warm. Familiar. The knowledge that they do this for her makes her feel like she could take on the entire world for them.

Ryne is already back asleep and after a lot of grumbling and agitated muttering back and forth the twins also settle down, breaths even and deep. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she feels Urianger kiss the crown on her head and Y'shtola silently squeezing her calf. Thancred catches her gaze over the top of the others heads and the unwavering loyalty she finds there takes her breath away.

"I'm sorry for taking it out on all of you," she says quietly and feels Y'shtola give another squeeze. "It was not your fault."

"There is nothing to forgive," Urianger murmurs and Thancred nods, careful to not wake anyone. "Sleep now, and it will all seem clearer upon the morrow."

Y'shtola hums in agreement and the Warrior closes her eyes, drifting into dreamless sleep. It is the best she has slept in years and when the morrow comes they are all there to see it.

Chapter Text

The first week following Ultima Thule passes in a blur — meetings, debriefs and repeated visits to the chirurgeons for monitoring occupies every single moment of the Warriors time. The precious few moments she gets to herself are mere breathing holes, spent alone trying to catch her breath in the crisp winter air. The Scions do what they can to ease the burden of bureaucracy but there are so many questions only she can answer.

It’s crushing her but she’s loath to admit it, practiced smile in place as scholars and engineers flutter around her, all demanding to know what the impossible felt like.

How can she begin to explain that what to them is mere scientific curiosity is to her some of the scariest moments of her life? Standing at the edge of nothingness with a last desperate prayer, the absence of her family a raw, fresh wound — none of which she is keen to relive.

It’s after one of those days that she returns to her lodgings only to find her door wide open and blocked by a mattress currently in the process of being dragged inside. Alisaie is at the other end, glaring at the Warrior as though daring her to say something.

“You can’t sleep.” Alisaie states, eyes narrowing further. “And neither can we.”

The Warrior peeks over Alisaie’s shoulder, finding Alphinaud already sitting atop her bed. He waves a little upon seeing her, amusement clear in the curve of his smile.

“So…?”

“So we are sleeping in here. All of us.”

The Warrior still holds the memory of the night in the Crystarium close to her heart, warmth blooming in her chest. The way she’d slept, surrounded at all sides by family — it’s what she thinks of on really bad days when the tremble in her hands won’t settle, when the weight of everything threatens to overwhelm her.

“Alright then,” she agrees easily, bending down to help Alisaie push the mattress the rest of the way inside. “I know when I’m outnumbered.”

“Thank the Twelve you didn’t try to protest,” Alisaie mutters, not unkindly.

“And with all of you, you mean…?”

“All,” Alphinaud speaks up. “I suspect the others are on their way as we speak.”

A sweeping look over the room reveals they must have been planning this all day, because there is already one other mattress on the floor next to her bed, neatly made up with blankets and pillows artfully arranged. Alphinaud’s doing, then.

Alisaie grunts, kicking at the mattress the last bit until it’s flush with the other one. Then she claps her hands.

“You’re up, brother dear.”

The Warrior folds her arms across her chest, unable to hold back her smile as Alphinaud sighs and rises to begin fussing with the sheets. It’s an arrangement so very like them.

“Shall I fetch anything? Something to eat?” The Warrior asks.

“No need, no need. We bring you a basket of Sharlayan’s finest — which would probably translate to Limsa Lominsa’s most mediocre.”

It’s Thancred, stepping in behind her. He’s followed by Y’shtola who shoots her a warm smile, then to the Warrior’s shock Estinien steps inside, leaning his spear against the wall and rolling his shoulders.

Estinien catches her staring and raises his eyebrows as if daring her to say anything.

She holds her hands up in mock surrender.

“I’m just wondering about the logistics.”

“You shan’t worry about a single thing,” Y’shtola says. “Now if you would kindly go take a bath instead of hovering, that would be most helpful.”

“It is already drawn and waiting for you,” Alphinaud supplies, and really, what choice does she have?

“Thank you,” the Warrior attempts — only to find her voice cracking and splitting, throat burning with tears. “I — I needed —“

Thancred’s hand lands on her shoulder, warm and steady.

“Don’t let the bath get cold, now.”

She sniffles. Then she nods. Once the door clicks shut behind her and she finally sinks into the hot water the tears all spill at once, body wracked by big sobs — relief, catharsis like nothing else. Mingled with the grief there is wild joy in knowing that once she opens that door again her family will be right outside, waiting. Ready to catch her.

And true enough, once she emerges in the soft pyjamas someone had laid out for her they are all there. G’raha and Urianger must have arrived sometime after she went into the bathroom, sitting together with their heads bent over a large book and talking quietly.

The floor has been transformed to bed, and in the middle of it Alphinaud and Alisaie are lounging, both of their eyes snapping to her the moment the door creaks.

“How are you feeling?” Alphinaud asks, worry plain on his face.

How is she feeling? Tired, for sure. Grieving. Grateful. Guilty.

“Well enough to endure Alisaie’s kicks for a night, that’s for sure,” she replies easily, instantly rewarded with an indignant HEY from the kicker in question.

Estinien regards Alisaie a little warily and Alisaie glares at him in response.

“That is well indeed, my friend.” G’raha looks up, smiling ever so softly. “I have heard the legends.”

“And to think that legends doth not even come remotely close to capturing the strength young Alisaie possesses,” Urianger still has his head bowed, but the Warrior can see the corners of his mouth tilt up. “Forsooth, had we but had her sleep and rolled her toward a primal I believe they would have been dealt with far swifter.”

“This is slander.”

“Now now, Alisaie, you should see it for the compliment it is. Clearly they respect your capabilities.” Thancred is clearly struggling to hold back his laughter though and Alisaie simply sniffs at his interjection, turning her nose up at all of them.

The night continues like that — they eat and they laugh, eventually converging on the makeshift bed as the sun sets. Alisaie yawns and wiggles her way in under the Warrior’s arm, curling up against her chest with her brother following close behind.

“You should have told us it was getting bad again,” she mutters and the Warrior simply squeezes her a little tighter.

“She has a point,” Y’shtola remarks, artfully arranging herself at the Warrior’s feet just like last time.

She pats the Warrior’s calf, then tilts her head up at Thancred.

“All of us could do with admitting we need a little help at times.”

Thancred attempts to smile but it comes out more like a grimace.

“Yes, yes.”

“Thine words ring true, Y’shtola. We have all gone through a great thing — ‘tis no shame in admitting it.”

G’raha hangs his head in contemplation, ear twitching as the room falls into silence.

“Where am I sleeping?” Estinien interjects, eying the bedding with clear skepticism.

The Warrior can’t help but snicker as Thancred startles, turning a critical eye first on his companions then back to the bed.

“Well,” Thancred starts, grabbing hold of G’raha’s shoulders and looking him up and down. “Are you a side sleeper?”

“During my years in the tower I rarely needed sleep. When exhaustion caught up with me, I was often resting hunched over a table for what few hours, sometimes minutes, I could.”

Once again silence descends upon the room. Thancred wets his lips.

“Twelve, G’raha, that’s…”

There’s a twinkle of amusement in G’raha’s eyes and Urianger is the first to crack, shoulders shaking quietly. The Warrior has to turn her head into the pillow to stifle her laugh.

“But yes, I would say I’m a side sleeper.”

“You —“

“Can you get on with it,” Alisaie hisses, grabbing hold of the closest blanket and tossing it vaguely in the others’ direction. “Some of us want to sleep.”

In the end Estinien and Urianger get to serve as brackets to the whole operation, while G’raha presses against the Warrior’s back and Thancred lays next to Alphinaud. It’s stiflingly hot and the Warrior already knows that as much as they poke fun at it Alisaie does kick and Alphinaud does too.

Urianger radiates heat like a furnace and G’raha is making little snuffling noises, Thancred is prone to tossing and turning and Estinien, well, he is an unknown variable so far.

The only one truly pleasant is Y’shtola — mitigated by the fact that she sleeps so still and so deeply it’s a little scary.

And yet there is no other place the Warrior would rather be. As she drifts off into sleep she lets the tears again fall freely, soaking into the pillow. She cries without shame and sleeps without fear, surrounded by love.