ffxv_kinkmeme | Prompt Post Round Five

Welcome to Round Five of the FFXV Kink Meme!

Closed for prompts | OPEN for fills

Please have a look at the extended rules here.

The important rules in short:

Post anonymously.
Negative comments on other people's prompts (kink-shaming, pairing-bashing etc.) and personal attacks of any kind will not be tolerated.
Don't be an asshole.
One prompt per comment. Warnings for common triggers and squicks are encouraged, but not required.
Prompts should follow the format: Character/character, prompt.
Keep prompts to a reasonable length; prompts should not be detailed story outlines.
Fills should have the word "Fill:" at the start of the subject line.
Otherwise please avoid changing the subject line.
No reposting of prompts from previous rounds, please.
No Meme-Police. Only ffxv_kinknator and ffxv_kinkhelper and ffxv_kinkmod are allowed to mod the meme. If you spot a rules violation, don't comment in the thread, report it on the Ask a mod post.

Please direct any questions or report any problems to the Ask a mod post.

Prompt, write, draw, comment, and most importantly have fun!

(You can also check out our Pinboard for Filled or Unfilled prompts)

If you'd like to advertise a fill, head on over to the fills post! This is, of course, entirely optional.
New Prompts are Closed for this round. Please wait until 11/13/2017 for Round Six.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From: (Anonymous)

So instead of being driven by a desire for vengeance, Ardyn just sort of breaks, goes crazy in an entirely different direction and spends the several centuries wandering around as a crazy homeless man until mental institutions become a thing, he gets institutionalized in Niflheim and instantly becomes the subject of early scientific scrutiny until a mad military scientist gets the brilliant idea to use him to turn people into scourge-based weapons.

Lucis, fearing Nifleheim's new weapons, sends Cor to investigate these new weapons and he ends up coming back with a mentally ill immortal and a baby, and yes he's keeping them.

- Ardyn still hates the Astrals and the Lucii, so needless to say his first meeting with Regis is "interesting."
-On his good days, Ardyn is his snarky trollish asshole self. He doesn't get to have many of these.
-On his bad days he doesn't get out of bed. On his really bad days he can't be left by himself.
-Prompto grows up to be very defensive of Ardyn and is very willing to kick the ass of anyone who mocks or. Hurts him.
-Prompto still becomes BFFs with Noctis and Ardyn is Not Happy about this, but even he has to admit the kids not that bad and Cor will not stop gloating,

+++++ (if you wanna follow the plot of the game)The Astrals still insist that Noctis is the Chosen One destined to slay the Accursed, but fuck that Noctis is not killing his best friend's dad and he finds another way.

From: (Anonymous)

Wow, this is a really interesting prompt! I hope it gets picked up!

From: (Anonymous)

Aw yes, amazing prompt!

I can easily picture Cor as Prompto's second dad or doting uncle, but I'm kinda curious about the kind of relationship he would have with Ardyn?

From: (Anonymous)

OP - Very loving but dysfunctional - Ardyn has difficulty taking care himself, much less a smaller more helpless human, but he loves his Sunshine Child because who wouldn't. And kinda overprotective from constant fear that somehow some way this will all be taken from him cus that's how it goes.

And lots of dad trolling. So much dad trolling.

I - uh maybe spent way too much time thinking about this.

From: (Anonymous)

I'm sorry, my question was badly formulated! I actually meant the relationship between Cor and Ardyn?

I'm so in love with this prompt, it has so much potential! I really hope someone will write it (and if no one does I'll probably do it myself when I get the time)

From: (Anonymous)

Platonc bickering co-parenting. Cor also has a bit caretaker role with Ardyn cus again, severe mental illness makes self care difficult. Also commiserated PTSD-buddies because Cor may not an immortal tortured victim but he's still seen some shit.

Also, Ardyn being a troll because that's how he shows he cares.

(Also I am huge fan of Ar-AceCor but that's not necessary)

From: (Anonymous)

Also forget to mention that Cor is super-protective of Ardyn and kicks the ass of anyone who hurts him or talks about him behind his back.

Arrdyn like to return the favor by spreadinf malicious gossip about anyone who hurts Cor.

From: (Anonymous)

My entire heart, yes please!

From: (Anonymous)

Soooo I can't promise anything, but if I were to give this a try, 2 questions:

1. Did you have anything specific in mind re: Ardyn's diagnosis? Like, depression, bipolar, schizophrenia, delusional disorder, just something Insomnians don't quite have a name for...?

2. Did you intend him and Cor to be in a relationship? I could probably work with either.

From: (Anonymous)

PTSD, definatly. Also a head full od daemons. Beyond that? IDFK.

Eh, I'm could go either way. Just be careful about the power dynamics if they are in a relationship.

From: (Anonymous)

What kinds of things specifically should I be careful of?

From: (Anonymous)

Theses two anons here are working on something, but it's going to be more of an drabble/mini-fill/episode collection thingy. Watch this space if you are interested. XD

From: (Anonymous)

Drabble 1: A morning

Ardyn was still sitting on the couch reading when it was time to get up for school. Or again. Prompto was not sure if his uncle really was reading or just staring onto the pages, wrapped up in blankets and drinking cocoa. He was always especially moody in autumn.

He got up early, usually. Officially for his morning run, and that was mostly true, but also to check if Ardyn needed anything before he took off. “Morning!”
“Probably.“

At least he was talking today, that was something.
Good start, really. “Breakfast?”
“Will it be your usual route today?“ He shut the book and got up slowly, still wrapped in his blankets and ambled over to the kitchen, an old-timey statesman on his way to the senate.
Prompto nodded and put on the kettle.
“Yeah.” Three miles, through the park and past two stores.
“You could bring something from that precious little bakery behind the park, if it's already open. The one with those ridicolous tiny cream puffs.“
“They should be open when I'm there. Raspberry or chocolate?” Cup of tea and a banana for now, proper breakfast when he got home.

“Raspberry.“ A quick decision this time, but maybe he was having his dreams again, and when he had those, dark foods were a problem, especially when liquid. Prompto vividly remembered an incident when his uncle freaked out over a particularly dark chocolate fountain, leaving restaurant and the whole quarter in a hurry. It took hours til they found him again, hiding in a tube on a building site. It was one of the reasons that tea was a lot more common in this household than coffee. “Sure thing. Anything else you need?”
“A sweet little something for Cor, maybe. He'll never admit it, but he does love the cake they have.“
Prompto grinned. “Gotcha.” And off he went to put on his shoes. Another half-finished cup of tea standing around in the kitchen now. He kept forgetting those.
Ardyn collected the things the boy left standing. Cleaned them. Set the table for three, even though Cor was already at work, but he always set the table for three, and being a creature of habit made things easier.

“I'm home!” Prompto kicked off his shoes. He had returned without any unexpected delays, and with the promised sweets. “Arla says hi. Packed some samples for you. Some sort of cherry tart, something very pink, and... I think the other ones are for another time.” Chocolate and blueberry in those.
He found Ardyn on the floor in front of the glass door of the balcony, sitting between the rainbows the tired sun painted through the crystals hanging on the ceiling. He was in his bathrobe, the reddish hair wet, and he was drawing. Ink on paper this time, careful little strokes.

Prompto smiled. Talking, setting the table, taking a shower, and now drawing - pretty good day, so far. He unpacked the food, and hit the shower.
“I think I would like to go out today.“
They sat at the table, drinking tea and eating scrambled eggs on toast.
Prompto nodded. “My classes finish early today, if you don't want to go alone.“
“Ah, I'll just go down to the park. Maybe see if I find somebody to play with.“
There was a small and very dusty café down at the small pond with the ducks where the retirees met for chess and card games and strawberry cake, coffee always hidden under generous amounts of cream. A safe place.
“Cool. Have fun!” If anything came up, he had their numbers. As did the owner of the café, if anything else came up.

From: (Anonymous)

Awww, this is sweet. But I'm sad Ardyn can't enjoy choolate fountains - they're the best.:(

From: (Anonymous)

Prompto was four years old, and screaming at the top of his lungs. It was two in the morning, and until about a minute ago, everything had been fine. The kid had gotten somewhat used to being a _kid_, and more recently to having his own room. Sometimes, though, this still happened.

Cor was on his feet in seconds. Was in the living room, gun in hand, only some seconds after, before his brain parsed that while there were monsters that lurked in the dark, this was probably the very special species that only appeared in dark spaces like wardrobes and under beds of kids' rooms.

The screams gave way to loud wailing, and there could have been be words in between, but they were lost somewhere between sobs and the kid's still somewhat limited speech.

"Coming, coming..." Not before putting the pistol to a safe place, though. The little bird had a thing for everything that went "pew" and produced fireworks, and he didn't want an accident. When he had reached Prompto's room, he heard that the sound came from the space between the foot of the bed and the closet. It was just large enough to fit the boy and his chocobo plush, the first toy he had gotten. You needed a crowbar to separate him from it in the night. The nightlight, a fat little moogle, didn't seem bright enough for a moment like this, so Cor switched on the bedside lamp.

"What is it, little one? Bad dreams?" He squatted down to take a look at the boy, who was mostly mussed up blond hair and snot at this point, and as was often the way with small children, too upset to say why he was upset. The crying didn't stop, it just turned into hiccups, half muffled by the chocobo.

"Come here, will you?" He tried to gently pull him out of his hiding place. Prompto screeched, and other than that might as well have been a log. No cooperation at all. At least he wasn't kicking or biting, an improvement from the first few weeks.

"Shit." What was it this time? The bed seemed dry enough. "Don't want to sleep alone tonigt?"

That got him a nod, finally.

"You have to come out if you want that. I don't fit in there, you know?"

Prompto looked up at him. Still sobbing, still not saying a word, but slowly inching out of his corner nonetheless. The Marshal waited patiently. Forcing the boy would only lead to more sobbing, he learned that the hard way. Eventually, he was out far enough to, in theory, hold on to Cor, and far enough for Cor to get both hands on him. He looked unsure, though, and the tears wouldn't stop, and then he just folded himself around the plush again and resumed wailing. One of those spells. They had gone through this a few times.

"The fledgling will not stop, will it?" The wailing had woken his strange roommate, and he stood in the door now in his pyjamas, eyes tiny from sleep. "You'll be waking up the whole house, young man, if you intend to go on like this."

"Must have had a bad dream. C'mon, Prom. Let's fix you some hot milk and go to bed, okay?"

Prompto scrambled forward and past him, and only stopped when he got hold of Ardyn's pyjama leg. Another step up, even if it didn't seem like it at first glance. Two months ago he would have hidden behind it. The boy had taken to Cor, and usually warm milk and a story would have been the cure-all. There was just one specific set of nightmares it didn't work with.

"Aw, poor fledgling. Were the black things looking for you again?" Ardyn lifted the boy up on his arm. He was still crying, but quieter now, sniffling into Ardyn's shoulder. Somewhere in between, there was a muffled, "Uh-hu."

"Then we will take care that they don't dare to come back tonight. Would you mind to help Papa to make me some cocoa while I take care that they will be gone from your bed when you sleep here again?"

Some more sniffling, and then a small nod. He turned his head away from the shoulder a little, and peaked past the chocobo in his arm at Cor.

"You'll of course have to keep a really good eye on the milk. Remember the last time you did not and it became too hot and everything was a terrible mess?" He carried him out into the kitchen, placing him on the countertop. Cor followed them, just happy that none of them was crying.

Prompto nodded, but he didn't let go of Ardyn's sleeve.

“You remember what happened the last time I told the black ones that they are not welcome here? They are no nice people.“

Cor remembered very well. Ardyn had ended up in his own bedroom, to tend to his wounds and still his tears while the kid was back asleep. Cor was not sure what Ardyn had done in there, but the flat had felt more silent after that night.

"They're mean." The boy still stumbled over his r's and th's. He pulled insistently on the sleeve again, trying to get Ardyn to lean down.

“Yes, they are. That is why you scream as loud as you can when they bully Cor and you. Can you do this for me?“ He did not try to detach the tiny hand from his sleeve.

"Mhm!" He looked at Cor, then up at Ardyn again. This time he was much clearer on what the sleeve pulling was all about, bringing his other hand to the side of his mouth. Secrets, then, and those clearly needed to be whispered.

Ardyn nodded meaningfully in Cor's direction, then dragged the boy closer to listen to very important things.

"Make the ugly man go away, too." Who the ugly man was, nobody really knew. It was either someone specific from the facility, or - more likely - fuzzy memories of people and discomfort getting conflated into one big bad that kept returning in his dreams.

"He won't dare to come here. He's a big old scaredy cat. Remember the spooky face I showed you? Tongue out as far as you can, roll your eyes and make the noises! Like this!" And Ardyn showed him again. Cor hid behind the door of the fridge, unable to look at the man without laughing, and pretended to look for something that was hidden deep in its insides. "See? Even Papa is scared!"

Prompto giggled, and made the same silly face, just to be sure.

"Very good! Looky there, the most horrible monster of them all! Spooky enough to scare them all away!" He bopped the freckled nose. That got even more giggling out of the boy. His face was still puffy and sticky, but he didn't look like he'd start crying again in the immediate future. Cor dared to bring the milk now, lighted the gas stove and put a pot on it. While Ardyn was telling the boy what Papa was doing there and why it was important to do that very carefully, he looked at his saviour, amber eyes full of a strange melancholia.

Prompto meanwhile listened to Ardyn and watched Cor, squinting at the pot on the stove. The fact that he wasn't chatting away about everything that went through his little head spoke volumes about how scared he had been and how tired he was now.

"Think you can stay here for a little while, fledgling?"

He nodded and, a little reluctantly, let go off Ardyn's sleeve.

"Do you want honey or cocoa, Prom?" Cor took over from here while he watched the older man walk away, into the boy's room. Ardyn had asked him not to wonder what her was doing in there, and to ignore any noises that might come from inside. It would be alright in the end.

From: (Anonymous)

You made me wonder if there were really ghosts in their house. I'm glad I read this part in the middle of a day ^^'

I like how both Ardyn and Cor took care of Prompto and how much Prompto trusted them. It was adorable how he did cling to Ardyn; it makes sense as Ardyn is the one to scare scary things off.

Thank you for writing this :)

From: (Anonymous)

Okay now I'm picturing Ardyn unleashing the full might of his Arminger on Prompto's poor unsuspecting pillow.

Fill: Ardyn + Cor + Prompto, Dysfunctional escaped lab rat family (3/?)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2017-10-04 12:14 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: Ardyn + Cor + Prompto, Dysfunctional escaped lab rat family (3/?)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2017-10-04 12:57 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: Ardyn + Cor + Prompto, Dysfunctional escaped lab rat family (3/?)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2017-10-04 06:32 pm (UTC) - Expand

Fill: Ardyn + Cor + Prompto, Dysfunctional escaped lab rat family (3/?)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2017-10-17 02:11 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: Ardyn + Cor + Prompto, Dysfunctional escaped lab rat family (3/?)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2017-10-17 07:32 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: Ardyn + Cor + Prompto, Dysfunctional escaped lab rat family (3/?)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2017-10-18 07:35 am (UTC) - Expand

Fill: Ardyn + Cor + Prompto, Dysfunctional escaped lab rat family (CONTINUED ON AO3))

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2017-12-07 12:22 am (UTC) - Expand

From: (Anonymous)

Hi! Totally different anon here with a second fill! Warning for a little medical horror/gore later on, I guess?

The last (and only) fic I ever wrote was waaaaay back in 2012, but I really fell for your prompt, anon! I have no outline for the plot past the first few chapters, so we'll see where this goes. It could be short or reaaally long :)

I also have both a crazy job and a terrible sleep schedule, so updates might be sporadic. Good thing you have two fillers (and possibly three, looks like!) to keep you sated :D

----

Two years and seven months after he joined the Imperial Army, flashing forged papers and a scowl that dissuaded all but the most basic questions about his origins, Cor Leonis finally made his move.

The power was out across most of Gralea, just as planned, and most of the on-duty soldiers had been pulled away to tackle either the impressively large electrical fire at the power plant, the demon breakout in the Optima Research Station, or the derailed shipment of neural toxins at the shipping yards.

The Marshal of Lucis did not operate by half measures.

In the rush to solve too many problems with too few resources, Cor and Marcus had been left alone to guard the tower entrance to Zegnautus Keep. Marcus was currently napping off a taste of his own shock baton to the base of the skull. The scientists and staff or Zegnautus had been dispatched to Optima.

Cor been carefully gathering data on Niflheim's military operations since enlisting, taking care to not mar his perfectly unimpeachable reputation, but tonight was the most reckless operation of the entire mission. He was making a final sweep of the Keep's research unit, planning to be out of Gralea by dawn and Niflheim itself by noon on an urgent field unit resupply mission he was already assigned to carry out. There should be no trouble at the border. His truck was loaded in the yard and only awaited his change of shift.

With both the freight and personnel elevators out of commission, the Marshal had quickly made his way up the too-many-astrals-damned flights of stairs, and was making a sweep of the administrative offices on the lower floors.

Cor couldn't carry away all of the reports he came across, and he certainly didn't have time to sit and peruse them to decide what might be important. He didn't understand the science, in any case. Not that it was a problem; he just picked up each folder, report, and stack of papers he came across, and unceremoniously "dropped" them into his own pocket of the armiger. Nifs were certainly advanced in daemonology and certain areas of tech, but for some reason, they'd lagged sorely behind in computing.

As he moved from desk to desk, a smile started to tug at one corner of his mouth.

I hope Clarus enjoys filing.

Cor, of course, did not expect to be joining that filing. Cor expected to be at Galdin Quay catching up on several months of leave, as soon as he could finish delivering the material and debriefing. He picked up one last handful of folders, dismissed them in a small shower of blue sparks, and checked his watch. He still had two hours to shift change.

Time to check the labs.

Cor tapped at the clunky datapad all Nifleheim soldiers were issued, trying to bring up a map of the upper levels. He'd been stationed at Zegnautus for some time, but soliders were mostly kept to the lower levels, and he hadn't been beyond the third floor, himself. Nif architects were unnaturally fond of labyrinthine halls and dead ends, and last year, after yet another two-day missing lieutenant was found slumped by a cola machine, General Lambardus finally threw up his hands at a staff meeting and ordered that all soldiers of appropriate rank be issued electronic maps of government facilities. Cor frowned at his datapad. smacking the unit lighty until it flickered to life. He missed his Insomnian cell phone, with a working screen, and GPS.

Following the map, Cor dodged down interminable corridors and up yet more flights of stairs, heading for the offices and labs the directory listed as belonging to the scourge and MT scientists he'd been assigned to target. He paused only for a judicious application of fire axe to the doors whose locks had automatically engaged when the power went down. They remained surprisingly easy to force open as he approached the research unit.

Nothing too strong in these labs, then. Probably no demons I can't handle on my own.

He paused to breathe for a few minutes when he finally reached the correct floor, massaging his calves.

There were emergency lights on in this wing, running on a generator or battery system, and Cor dismissed the fire axe for later use.

Convenient. I can move faster.

He headed to the right, entering a hallway off which the main labratories branched. Cor moved down the hall, moving through one lab filled with small demons in cages to another with sickeningly bloated and dark-veined human body parts and limbs preserved in neatly labeled rows, sweeping his flashlight into dim corners. They had sent the right man for the job; the Marshal had been cultivating a strong stomach for years. He snapped quick images with the camera he'd bought in Gralea on his soldier's wages, tucked a few of the more securely-stoppered jars in the armiger, and moved on. Magical storage was terribly convenient.

The seventh door he opened turned out to be the maintenance office. Cor turned to go, but suddenly he stopped, slowly turning around. This time, he really smiled, and it was more terrifying than the scowl that had almost engraved itself in his face. Three years, Regis! And he wasted five minutes of precious time dropping every teetering pile of maintenance procedures and plumbing mishap reports into the armiger that he could lay his hands on. Cor's skill with the armiger had never been terribly refined, and when he started retrieving "paper," it would all be gloriously mixed together. Having cleared the maintenance office, he moved on.

The next door Cor approached was noticibly heavier than the others; he had to summon the fire axe again to break the lock, and this one took quite a few blows. As he pushed it open, and maneuvered past several carts piled high with surgical trays and instruments, Cor cast the beam of his flashlight around to supplement the dim lights. This one looked like an operating theater, and in it Cor saw for the first time in his sweep of the facility a sight that made his blood grow cold.

The center of the cage-lined room was occupied by a crowd of unidentifiable instruments and heavy machines, some gone dark and some still blinking, and in the middle of it all was a stainless steel table, atop which he could see a body, so covered in wires and tubing and straps that the naked form was hardly visible.

Not a body, he thought, edging closer. You don't secure a cadaver like that.

Then his flashlight's glow glinted off the black blood, and Cor the Immortal almost turned tail and ran.

From: (Anonymous)

TWO KEKES?! I GOT TWO KEKES!!!

Nice spooky lab, BTW. And forever giggling at Cor giving Regis a pile of plumbing reports.

From: (Anonymous)

Thanks for giving it a shot, OP! I promise it won't be terrible darkness and suffering forever? ~~But at the rate I'm going...~~

----

Only almost, though it was closer than he'd ever come. Cor growled in disgust at the feeling, once the moment had passed. There'd been no sign of hazmat equipment, other than simple gowns and masks. Either the scientists here were extremely reckless, or they'd determined that the risk of airborne infection was negligible. It was more than they knew back home in Lucis.

(For decades the scourge was nothing but a rumor carried across the sea from Niflheim, one most Lucians scoffed at as a wives' tale that had in the telling. Only in the last ten years had three cases of a strange plague eppeared on the edges of Lucis, striking seemingly at random, the victims' blood gradually running black in their veins, turning to an oily sludge that choked out their lives from the inside. One had been taken to Tenbrae under heavy guard, and she had lasted a year longer than the others.)

Cor took a longer look at the man on the table. He was breathing, but had moved not a muscle since Cor had entered the room. Middle aged, Cor judged, with advanced muscle atrophy -- but cuffed tightly to the surface with thick nylon straps, even at his neck. They really didn't want this one moving. A black strip of cloth was tied over his eyes.

This won't bother him, then. New film, check the flash.

It filled two rolls, taking pictures of the man... the IV lines and electrodes. Other sensors he didn't recognize. New scars -- a crescent on the lower part of the belly, a straighter cut under the ribs, a wandering line from shoulder to elbow on one outstretched arm, the forearm below laid open with veins feeding black blood into tubes. Old scars -- too many to count. The black ichor that leaked from all these wounds.

He photographed the man's wreck of a face last, focusing carefully on the scars on his shaved head, on the black blood seeping from his mouth, bubbling around the leather stick fastened between his teeth, trailing down from under the blindfold over pale skin and bruised veins to pool on the table.

Who is this poor man? What was he, before they brought him here?

Cor pulled a glove from the box on the nearest cart and tugged it over his left hand. He readied his camera with the right. Hesitantly, slowly, Cor reached out and pulled up the blindfold, and for the first time, the man moved -- he opened his eyes.

The eyes were black, saturated with that awful blood, the irises an unnatural, gleaming yellow. They were the eyes of a monster, and they were afraid.

Cor backed away slowly, camera forgotten, unable to tear his eyes away from that horrible stare. He bumped against a shelf stacked deep with jars, and the dislodged containers shattered on the floor, saturating his boots and splashing his body with black.

"Shit! Oh, astrals, shit!"

The blood slipped under his boots as Cor rushed from the room and slammed through the door to the maintenance closet, and he leaned over the sink and heaved his stomach dry. Still hacking, he tore at his clothes, flinging everything in a corner, and then he scrubbed at the skin of his arms and legs and face until every spot of black was gone. When it was all over, he sank to the floor, looked down at himself, and laughed, and there was a strange edge to it.

From: (Anonymous)

They were the eyes of a monster, and they were afraid. Oh shit, that is a good good line. I am so into this!

From: (Anonymous)

I'm super glad you're enjoying it, anon! I've been sorta worried that the major lack of dialogue would turn everyone off. Also the complete lack of warm fuzzies and handwavey lack of guards/MTs. Cor just doesn't seem like he'd be a big talk-to-himselfer :)

From: (Anonymous)

In which Cor collects a few new nightmares.

~~~~

The last lab was full of babies. Dozens of babies, unnaturally silent and still in plastic cribs. Each sported almost as many wires and sensors as the scourge-infected man, and above several IV bags hung, dripping a horribly familiar substance.

The bastards are infecting babies on purpose? What the hell for?

Of the infants, only one seemed to notice him, reaching out with chubby arms. Cor's vision swam, and he tasted blood before he realized he'd bitten his hand.

This was too much. Too much. His mind racing, he crossed off a thousand ways to save them all, each more foolhardy than the last. You couldn't put babies in the armiger. Nothing alive.

I can save at least one from this hell.

Mind resolved, Cor turned to the room's cabinets for supplies, caching everything he touched. Diapers. Formula. Bottles. Towels. Antiseptic. Whatever the hell's in these boxes.

There was no easy answer on which baby to save, no choice that would allay the heaviness in his soul, so Cor went to the infant that had reached for him, peeling electrodes from delicate skin, pressing guaze and a sticky bandage to the baby's scalp as he pulled out the IV port, averting his gaze from the soft blue eyes brimming with tears.

He picked the baby up, froze for a moment, and put it back down. And Cor the Immortal, short of time as he was, managed to fumble his way through changing his first dirty diaper.

You're lucky, kid, that my stomach's already empty.

He pulled the sheet covering the crib's thin mattress up, and tied it into a sling with an extra from the cabinets to cradle the baby tight against his chest, over the unstained shirt he'd pulled from the armiger.

Tugging the knots to make sure they were secure, Cor took one last look around at the rows of babies, and he felt his heart break.

"I'm so sorry."

----

As he jogged back down the hall, Cor slowed at one particular door. He couldn't save the man inside, but he could at least grant him a final mercy. He untied the sling and situated the babe on the floor.

"Wait here for me, OK?"

Cor pushed through the broken door and approached the table more slowly this time, stepping carefully around the drying sludge on the floor, grabbing more gloves and pulling them on. Those unnatural eyes, still uncovered, followed his progress.

When Cor reached him, holding up his hands to show he meant no harm, the man flinched, and tried to turn his head, but he couldn't pull away.

Sighing, Cor dropped his hands. Thinking of the dying soldiers he'd comforted in Accordo, he reached out to touch the man's undamaged arm, stroking it softly. Those eyes flicked back to him, the man's confusion plain even through the disfiguring blood.

Moving slowly, Cor reached across to pull the leather bit from the man's mouth. He spoke as softly as he could, in the language of the Empire.

"Do you want me to end this? I can make it quick."

The man squinted at him, and looked away. Cor tried again in Lucian.

The man swallowed, and licked his lips several times.

"Nescio. Quis es tú?"

It came out quiet and harsh, and brought on a round of coughing. Cor stepped back, considering. Whoever the man was, he didn't speak Nif or Lucian, and Cor didn't have time. He reached down to lace the fingers of his left hand through the man's own, summoned a long dagger behind his back, and brought it around slowly, miming striking at his own heart.

After a long pause, the man smiled softly. It was ghoulish.

"Sis me interfice," and his yellow eyes slid closed.

In seconds, it was done. The man's eyelids fluttered, but he made no sound apart from a quick gasp as the knife found his heart.

Be at peace.

Cor watched for a moment after the man's breathing stopped, to honor this stranger with the raveged body. He withdrew the blade slowly, intending to leave it behind as an offering, and as a message to whoever found the remains. He flexed his fingers to pull away his left hand away and the body jerked, and his hand was suddenly caught in an iron grip. The knife fell loud to the floor, loud as anything Cor had ever heard.

~~~~

I have nothing but a few 19th century Latin phrasebooks and ye olde internet... so, uh, please forgive any mistakes (but corrections are welcome!). What Ardyn's saying here is "I don't understand. Who are you?" and "Kill me, if you are willing." I think.

From: (Anonymous)

Late a!a note: I figure everyone who ever used the armiger has a million old clothes stuffed in there, and I couldn't have Cor running around naked for the next several chapters. Could I?