Chapter Text
Meteion had been defeated. Her song of despair had been permanently silenced; the Final Days averted.
And Warrior of Light S’carlett Raha was tired. Tired of the responsibility that she bore due to her title – the weight of the world on her shoulders. More than anything, she lamented to herself in the aftermath of the celebration of her latest and greatest victory, she wanted to let go. To shirk all responsibility, let go of her carefully crafted control. For years, it felt like, she had been pulled every which way, called to slay that primal, end that war, avert this Calamity, fix this problem. Despite being not a day past 25 summers, she had slayed almost every primal that popped up across Etheirys – including a man-made one; ended one millennia-long war, brokering peace between two species; ended not one, but two Garlean occupations, freeing two peoples; saved an entire shard from destruction by Light, almost becoming a sin eater in the process; and, most recently, averted the literal apocalypse by traveling to the literal edge of the universe, saving each and every shard from destruction. She had averted at least two more Calamities, preventing rejoining after rejoining, and finally – she had time to rest.
The Scions had been “disbanded,” and no one yet called on her. For the first time in years, S’carlett had… time, for herself. Amidst the celebrations that overtook the Rising Stones, she thought long and hard about where she would go, what she would do. She needed respite, desperately, the exhaustion deep in her bones telling her to rest. She could stay at the Rising Stones, sure, but…
one place called out to her.
Ishgard.
She didn’t know why – she wasn’t exactly built for the cold, as a Seeker. She had been raised in Ul’dah by a merchant, plucked from the desert as a baby by her adoptive father who gave her a new name after her tribe had been slaughtered. So it was safe to say that she should want to go somewhere warm, like Thavnair, or maybe even return home to the deserts of Thanalan. But S’carlett felt drawn to that cold, stony city, high in the mountains of Coerthas. Something about Ishgard called her, like it was asking her to come home. To whom, or what, she could not say. But even as she thought about all of the places she could go, all of the exotic and unknown things she could see, S’carlett’s mind kept returning to the thought of the familiar.
She was packing her bag before she knew it, grabbing coats and cloaks from where she had left them in her quarters, neatly stowing them in her pack. She took a quick look around her room, and found her eyes drawn to the white mask sitting on her nightstand. She had kept it with her since Elpis, having been wearing it when she traveled forward in time to the first. She had been surprised when she arrived back in the Crystal Tower – she expected the clothes she was given in the past to, well – stay there. But her black robes and white mask had stayed on her person. She saved them and kept that delicate mask with silver details always nearby. As a reminder.
Without thinking, S’carlett grabbed the mask and added it to her back, closing the flap and securing it. She slung the pack over her shoulder and whirled around to make her way out the door.
And came face to face with Estinien Wyrmblood, who almost towered over her.
“Going somewhere, are we?” He leant against the frame of the door with arms crossed, dressed in his full armor with his lance on his back.
“Ishgard,” she replied succinctly, “care to join me?”
Estinien raised a single brow at her.
A prickle of nervousness ran down her spine at her thoughtless words. He doubtless wanted to return to Thavnair, to Vrtra. This wasn’t a mission for the Scions, there’s no reason for him to go anywhere with her. Ishgard was his home, but he had other things to do, right?
S’carlett was always nervous around Estinien. He was so tall, compared to her – and his face was so severe but so… beautiful. She found herself almost starstruck in his presence, sometimes, her heart pounding whenever he spoke to her in that deep, unforgiving voice. It took her a long time to admit it, but the dragoon had found himself a place in her heart.
He pulled her out of her racing thoughts with a curt nod.
“’Tis likely time I returned. I’m certain Ser Aymeric would want to see us, after all that has transpired.”
Aymeric. Oh.
Perhaps he was what was calling her to Ishgard.
A bolt of levin shot through her at the mention of the Lord Commander. If Estinien owned half of her heart, the other half indelibly belonged to Aymeric de Borel. She had felt attraction at their first meeting, that day in the intercessory in Camp Dragonhead. She had fallen deeper and deeper as time went on, his silky voice a constant presence in her most erotic of dreams. Both he and the former Azure Dragoon featured heavily, oftentimes together. She would wake up from those dreams drenched in sweat, heat pooling between her thighs and soaking through her smalls –
She shook those thoughts from her head.
“W-wonderful! I’m ready to depart when you are.”
They arrived shortly after by Aetheryte, with thankfully no aether sickness as both had previously attuned to the crystal in Foundation.
The city was just as she remembered it, gloomy and gray but somehow still full of life. The snow fell lightly, but the cold cut her bone deep. S’carlett was glad she had remembered to pull on her traveling cloak before she had left Mor Dhona.
It was midday and there were scores of people milling about, some pausing to look at them, but most paying no mind amongst their daily duties. She wasn’t surprised by or unused to the attention – Miqo’te were not very common among Ishgardian citizens – and most probably recognized her. She felt like everywhere she went these days there were people staring. By now, everyone -- even the residents of the First -- likely knew what she looked like. None approached, likely due to the imposing figure of her companion, or perhaps it was simply Ishgardian politeness and reservation.
S'carlett tilted her head up to look at Estinien, watching him take in the sights.
“Shall we head to the Lord Commander’s office?” She asked, a part of her wanting to get the inevitable embarrassment out of the way.
Ser Aymeric made her nervous. His piercing blue eyes and sculpted features practically cut through her heart, making her feel so much smaller under her gaze. Estinien was much the same way, his steely gaze seemingly staring into her very soul. Her anxiety around him had abated somewhat as they traveled together with the Scions, but when his silver eyes bore into hers, she had to look away.
They were both so tall – some of the only people who could make her feel so small. Each man held more than a fulm over her. But it wasn’t just their considerable height that made her feel that way – she had met many individuals who had towered over her rather diminutive height – it was more along the lines of their presence, imposing figures making her feel like she was no larger than a child. It wasn’t a bad feeling, per se, she often thought of how they dwarfed her and felt a twinge of desire spark in her belly.
Estinien, ever a man of few words, nodded mutely and started in the direction of the Congregation.
The conversation with Aymeric went as well as she could have hoped. He leveled her with that smile, making her forget her words in the middle of a sentence, and she stuttered her way through the rest of the conversation. He listened to her recount her final fight with the Endsinger and Zenos with rapt attention, worry clear over his features. He breathed a visible sigh of relief when her tale came to its happy end, singing his praises for her strength and valor.
She didn’t stay as long as a part of her hoped to, the Lord Commander being called away to a meeting. The other part couldn't leave quickly enough, heart pounding behind her breast to the point where she feared someone would see. Estinien disappeared from her side with nary a word, leaving her to wander Ishgard alone.
She thought a lot about what had led her here as she wound her way through Ishgard’s stone streets. S’carlett couldn’t say exactly when she fell for either of them, only that she panicked when she realized she had feelings for both of them, the realization that she couldn’t have both feeling like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. She quickly came to the realization that she probably couldn’t have either anyway – as who would want to be with someone who would never be home, who would never sit still, who could die at any moment – and so she carried her love around in her chest, each man having claimed half of her heart without even knowing it.
She realized she felt attracted to Estinien the moment he took his helm off for the first time, his eyes practically running her through. His hair had fallen across his shoulders in a silver halo, making him look like he was sent from the heavens. Despite his prickly personality, she found herself enjoying his company as the trekked across the Dravanian Hinterlands. She realized she loved him as she desperately tried to pull Nidhogg’s eye from his shoulder, begging him in her mind to stay alive. He had disappeared for a while, then, leaving her feeling empty.
S’carlett claimed to Y’shtola once over tea that her feelings had abated, the distance making her attraction fade. It was a passing interest, purely physical. The sorceress’s unseeing but all-knowing eyes showed that she didn’t believe the Warrior’s lies for a second. When he returned to join the Scions, S’carlett could feel the amusement radiating off her friend in waves as she stumbled over words of welcome to him, making her pray that the void would swallow her where she stood. Y'shtola astutely commented after he had left that to the average individual, it likely seemed that she couldn't stand them, given she could hardly be in the same room as them.
Aymeric, similarly, sparked her attraction in an instant. He took her breath away from the start, his visage practically stamping itself across her eyelids. He had spoken so gently, and yet his alluring voice held such power behind it. It had made her want to throw herself into the fireplace burning away in the intercessory. Similarly, she became aware of her feelings for him when he was imprisoned by the Heavens’ Ward, accepted them after she learned he had nearly been assassinated.
When Thancred so nonchalantly observed that Aymeric seemed to be in love with her, S’carlett nearly choked, again begging the void to take her. She spent the following night pacing a path in her quarters, unable to sleep with the thought of it. Alphinaud had commented on the morning of the Grand Melee that she looked pink, but she denied it with a wave of her hand and uneasy smile, saying something vague about the cold. The sight of him, dressed down and removed from his armor when she arrived at his manor for a meal made her partake of far more wine than she had planned. Emboldened by liquid courage, she had nearly confessed to him before they were interrupted. She thanked the Twelve that they had, for at least she saved herself the embarrassment.
(And it seemed she had a habit of coming to realizations at possibly the worst times. She only realized her feelings when the objects of her affections had nearly been lost to her forever, and yet she still feared to pursue them.)
They were both divine, cut from marble, able to make her squirm with nary a word. They made her stutter and stumble, made sparks tingle up and down her extremities. She felt struck dumb by their very existence. She often chastised herself – she was the Warrior of Light, godsdamnit! She shouldn’t be quivering and trembling like a leaf around her allies – she had felled far larger beasts. S’carlett Raha feared nothing… save for matters of the heart.
The Warrior of Light, strong and courageous as she was, having rarely ever been bested in battle -- was laid low by her treasonous heart.
While there was still daylight, she bought a bouquet of flowers from a merchant, and made the trek out of the city, to the hill where her friend’s shattered shield rested against a solitary marker. She laid the flowers down against the headstone, tears threatening to spill over her lashes. She kept a smile on her face all the while she recounted her adventures to Haurchefant, including the embarrassment she faced when speaking to Aymeric just before. Every time she visited his grave, she always spoke to him about her romantic troubles, and felt lighter for it.
As the sun set, she made her way to the Forgotten Knight and was greeted happily by the patrons. The barman gave her a free drink on the house to go with the hearty stew she ordered, warming her up after her trek through the snow. Soon after everyone in the tavern had wanted to buy an ale for the Warrior of Light, but she politely stopped them after having downed 5 mugs in not nearly enough time. She wasn't quite intoxicated, but she did feel a little fuzzy.
Belly full and body warm, S’carlett made her way to Fortemps Manor. Edmont had told her she would always have a place in their home, so the servants let her in happily when she arrived on their doorstep.
“Ah, Lady S’carlett!” one of the servants exclaimed at her arrival, “how wonderful it is to see you! We wish you would have written ahead; we would have prepared dinner for you!”
S’carlett smiled at her, appreciating the kindness even after all this time. It seems the former Count and his sons were not around, or, at least, were not in the entrance to greet her.
“Oh, please do not worry. I ate dinner in town on my way here.”
Before the servant could respond, a knock came at the door. The servant that greeted her opened it, and after a short greeting, accepted something from the person behind it. She closed the door and turned to the Warrior of Light, extending an envelope out towards her.
“It seems that this is for you, my Lady.”
S’carlett gingerly accepted the envelope and thanked the servant with a smile. Her pack weighed heavy on her back, so she excused herself and went up to her room to put it down and read the strange missive that she had received.
She shut the door behind her smoothly, deposited her bag on the ground next to the corner of the bed, and sat down upon the clean linens, kicking off her boots. She regarded the envelope with curiosity.
A plain envelope, addressed with only her name. She turned it over, noticing that the letter was sealed with red wax, the stamp showing some intricate logo with a rose. She opened the envelope and pulled out two pieces of parchment.
The parchment was undoubtedly expensive, an image of single rose pressed into the bottom right. She read over the first page and immediately, her breath stopped.
To S’carlett Raha, Warrior of Light:
You are cordially invited to become a member of Fury’s Rose, the premier pleasure club in all Eorzea, catering to the most important people in the realm. We are located at the far end of the Jeweled Crozier in Ishgard, past the last stall on the right. Present this letter to the man at the door to be allowed entrance. Inside you will find all manners of insipid pleasures awaiting you, provided you are willing to receive it. Attached in this envelope is a list of rules we require all patrons to follow, so please review them at your earliest convenience.
We welcome you to Fury’s Rose.
There was no signature, no indication of who exactly had sent her that letter. S’carlett felt herself turn red. A pleasure club? That didn’t mean… no, it couldn’t possibly be…
She brought the other page to the forefront and her eyes scanned over the text.
Rules:
Members of Fury’s Rose and their guests must follow the below outlined rules.
- Every patron must wear a mask that obscures their eyes. Revealing your identity to any other patron while on the premises is strictly forbidden.
- Every patron must indicate their status as a dominant or a submissive. You will be given a piece of jewelry to indicate your status to other patrons.
S’carlett had to stop reading for a moment, the word “submissive” bouncing around headily in her brain. She shook away the thought and continued to read.
- We require that all patrons have a safeword to use when they can no longer participate in an amorous activity. This safeword must be followed by every participant in an interaction. Failure to abide by a safeword will result in immediate removal from the premises.
- You are not to discuss the location or purpose of Fury’s Rose with any other personage except for other members or guests that you intend to bring.
- Guests must abide by all rules and regulations stated herein. If a guest breaks any of the outlined rules, the member which they are a guest to will be banned from the premises.
S’carlett could feel her hands shaking, the paper she held trembling. She was at a total loss – her brain totally blanked out. For what felt like an eternity, she sat staring blankly at the words in front of her.
A pleasure club. Dominant. Submissive. Safewords. Masks.
She put the papers down, setting them next to her on the bed. There’s no way – she was the Warrior of Light, for gods’ sakes! She couldn’t be seen engaging in this sort of debauchery! She shook the thought from her head, preparing to crumple up the missive and throw it in the fire.
But there will be masks. No one will know.
A tiny voice in her head stopped her in her tracks. Still further she tried to fight the urge. She was in love with two people already – coupling with someone else would be a betrayal to them! She couldn’t imagine being touched by anyone but them…
But they have yet to show interest in you. Why deny yourself the pleasure, waiting for something that may never come?
You already have a mask.
She looked to where her pack lay against the bed, the mask given to her by the Unsundered set safely inside. As she stepped towards it, she could deny her curiosity no longer. The voidsent avatar inside her was not responsible for the voice inside her head, nor was it some vestige of the Echo. No, the thoughts in her head were all her own.
Besides, she thought to herself as she opened the bag and removed the mask, I don’t have to engage in anything. It’s just sating a curiosity…
She slipped out of her armor and underclothes, switching her traveling attire for something simpler. A plain, red dress under a thick coat, paired with black stockings. She stowed the letter and the mask inside the coat and stepped into a softer, more comfortable pair of boots. Excitement and nervousness both fought for purchase inside her mind, leaving S’carlett feeling breathless. She summoned all the courage she had, perhaps more than she had when she faced the Endsinger, and resolutely walked out of her room.
The servants looked at her quizzically – she had just returned, only to nigh immediately set out again. She paid their looks no mind and pushed open the large front door of Fortemps Manor and marched out into the Ishgardian night.
It was late, past suppertime for sure. The wind swept her hair every which way, chilling her to the bone. The snow came down heavier than it had in the daytime, building up on roofs and on the sides of the path she walked on. As she walked towards the Crozier, she felt herself growing more excited, her body heating with every step despite the freezing temperature.
There were few people about at this hour, guards paying her no mind. As she approached her destination, she noticed all the stalls were empty, the thoroughfare that was usually bustling with shoppers completely empty. Down the winding street she went, until she passed the last, empty stall on the right. Standing watch near a seemingly bare portion of wall was a tall, well-built guardsman. He was dressed in armor, which was similar to that of the normal Ishgardian guards’, except for one feature. A single rose was stamped into the metal of his breastplate, right over where his heart would be.
S'carlett’s breath caught in her throat. This must be the place. She hesitantly approached him, removing the letter from her jacket.
“Is this the right—the right place?” She asked nervously, presenting the folded parchment to the watchman. He took the letter from her shaking hand, unfolded it, and scanned over the page. Seemingly satisfied with the content, he nodded his head silently.
“Mask on, my lady. And welcome to Fury’s Rose.”
S’carlett gulped, affixing the mask to her face as he pressed a stone in the wall, a door swinging open where before the cobblestone wall had been smooth and uninterrupted. She took a breath and stepped inside.
The door shut behind her, and as her eyes adjusted to the light, the room before her came into focus.
The room was small, dark floors coupled with red walls. S’carlett noticed that same rose on the guard’s armor repeated as a design on the wallpaper. The room was dimly lit, but you could still see everything quite well. A large mahogany counter stood in the middle of the room; two Elezen women in black, simple masks stood behind it. Behind them was a grand set of doors in the same wood as the desk, likely leading to the club. To her left, S’carlett noticed a single door set into the wall, the words “Dressing Room” written on a plaque affixed to the surface.
One of the women was busy with what S’carlett believed to be another guest, placing a metal bracelet around the wrist of a woman with a gold mask. No words were exchanged between the two. The other woman behind the desk looked at her with a smile and beckoned her forward. S’carlett stepped up to the counter.
“Welcome to Fury’s Rose!” she said smoothly, “is this your first time with us?”
S’carlett gave a small nod, wringing her hands together.
“Well, we’re glad to have you with us. Before you enter, there are a few items I must needs review with you. Have you read the rules that were included in your membership letter?”
S’carlett tried to find her voice, but failed, the words not springing to her lips. She nodded again.
“In that case, will you be attending tonight’s festivities as a dominant or a submissive? You are welcome to change that designation the next time you visit us.”
S’carlett swallowed and took a deep breath.
“I’ll be... a submissive, tonight.”
Her fellow guest turned her head to look at her at those words, eyeing her up and down. The mysterious woman smiled lasciviously, before stepping around the counter and through the large doors. They closed too quickly for S’carlett to get a peek inside.
“Letting go of control, are we? Wonderful!” The Elezen woman reached into a drawer and pulled out a silver piece of metal, presenting it to S’carlett. She took it into her grasp, turning it over in her hands.
“That collar marks you as a submissive, just as the bracelet marks our more dominant guests. Each has a contraceptive spell placed on it for the safety of all our patrons. Go ahead and put that on now – it will lock in place until you return to this room.”
A collar – locked on her neck – marking her as a submissive for all to see. The thought was impossibly erotic, exciting in the way it sent sparks to her core. S’carlett lifted the collar towards her neck, and it opened as if by magic. She slid it into place, and it closed again, fitting snugly around her throat. S’carlett could barely feel it, the only sensation the cool metal on her skin – but that quickly disappeared, too. The thought of it alone was enough to steal her breath from her lungs. The Elezen receptionist kept that smile on her face.
“Now that you have that, I would know your safeword that I can communicate it to our staff inside.”
S’carlett thought for a moment, finding the word to use should she wish to discontinue any activity.
“Ultima,” she said, refusing to look the woman she spoke to in the eye. Her tail was tucked between her legs, hidden under her thick coat.
“I shall inform them. Now, my lady, if you will, please enter the dressing room and remove your clothes. There is a chest attuned to your collar that will only open for you. Store your garments there, and then exit into the club from the door inside.”
S’carlett’s eyes widened. She honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead – she had thought she would look, that she would stay for an hour and then abscond back to her quarters to vent her frustration into her hand.
“I’m sorry… what? Must I – Do I have to?” S’carlett stuttered, looking at the receptionist in disbelief. She nodded sagely.
“Yes. Submissives must enter the club fully nude. That is one of our rules, though why it is not writ on the letter you received is beyond me,” a hint of mirth bled into her tone, and she gestured to the dressing room door.
Fully nude. She would – she would have to remove her clothes, bare herself to the patrons of the club – who were fully anonymous to her. But she would be fully anonymous to them.
The naughty voice in her head returned and spurred her to walk towards the door.
“Enjoy!” The Elezen woman smiled at her one final time as the dressing room door closed behind her.
The dressing room itself looked similar to the previous room, only smaller. There was a small bench in the middle, and one wall was filled entirely by chests. At the far end was another door, which looked the same as the one she entered through. Upon her entrance, one of the chests opened by itself, responding to the collar around her neck, most likely.
S’carlett slumped onto the bench, putting her head in her hands and staring at the ground. What had she gotten herself into? She was swimming with desire, feeling her smalls become drenched at the thought of all the debauched things that would happen to her if she passed through that door.
Yet it felt like she shouldn’t be here, like she had jumped headfirst into the Ruby Sea without knowing how to swim – and not a gil to her name to pay the toll. She was dizzy with how fast she had found herself here, how easy it was to decide. It certainly was the alcohol, of that she had no doubt – liquid courage, and all that. Her subconscious had been looking for an out, a way to let go of the weariness that consumed her, if only for one night. The cold realization of where she was - what she was doing – had sobered her completely.
Amidst her anxiety, a Hyuran man walked into the room. He regarded her with a nod, and sat down on the opposite end of the bench, beginning the process of removing his boots.
“First time?” He asked conversationally, standing to discard his footwear into the chest that opened for him. S’carlett nodded, still staring at the floor.
“I remember my first time,” she could hear the fond smile in his voice, “I was as nervous as you. But what awaited me on the other side…”
He trailed off with a groan, and S’carlett’s eyes flicked up just as he removed his smalls. His arousal was evident, and he smirked at her as he shut the lid to his chest.
“Just relax and let go, little one. You’ll be a regular in no time.” He winked at her conspiratorially, and out the door he went.
S’carlett took a deep breath and started to remove her own boots. She unbuttoned her coat, slowly stripping down to just her smalls. First her boots, then her coat, folded neatly. Her leggings came next, along with her dress. She didn’t feel cold as more of her feverish skin was exposed to the air – the place must be heated. Left in just her breastband and smalls, S’carlett felt her skin prickle with anticipation. Her tail swished nervously; her ears pressed back towards her head. She summarily removed her remaining undergarments – including her drenched smalls – and closed the chest.
Left in just a collar, she stepped towards the door, placing her hand on the handle. It was now or never.