Chapter VII: Love?!
Y’shtola’s eyes follow Alphinaud, Alisaie, Krile, and Aldra as they board the boat that will cross the sea toward Tuliyollal, their purpose to see Wuk Lamat ascend as Dawn Servant. She exhales a quiet sigh, her heart heavy with words left unspoken, feelings for Aldra that linger just beyond her courage. Each time the dragon princess returns, marked by fresh cuts and bruises, Y’shtola’s chest tightens. Longing and worry blur together, leaving her caught between affection and silence, unaware of how deep these threads will one day bind her.Y’shtola never minds tending to Aldra’s wounds; if anything, each moment of care only strengthens her quiet desire to shield her from harm. A tender boldness stirs within her, the wish to let her affection show, though Aldra remains blissfully unaware. Still new to the ways of the world, the dragon princess does not yet understand the depths of love. Her foxlike playfulness drives her into reckless danger, and she takes Y’shtola’s watchful devotion as simple kindness, never seeing the deeper truth, that what Y’shtola longs for is her, and her alone.Y’shtola waits, ever patient yet restless at heart, her love kept hidden for so long beneath the weight of duty. As a Scion, she forced those feelings aside, convincing herself there was no room for such attachments. But after the fall of the Endsinger and the disbanding of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, she finally found herself with more time beside Aldra, the one she had named Aldra Saeyris. The name was precious to her, tied to that moment at Castrum Meridianum when she, Minfilia, and Yda had freed the dragon princess. From then on, a quiet bond had stirred within her. She tried to deny it, to bury it beneath reason, yet it always returned, stronger, sweeter, and far harder to ignore.“How many times have I told myself to wait? To be patient, to bury this ache beneath duty. A Scion has no right to such feelings… or so I believed. Yet when the Endsinger fell, and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn went their separate ways, I was left with something I had never dared to imagine, time with her. Aldra Saeyris. The name I gave her still lingers sweetly on my tongue, carrying me back to that day at Castrum Meridianum when Minfilia, Yda, and I set her free. I thought the attachment would fade, that it was nothing more than a passing sentiment. But the truth is crueler, softer… it has only grown. No matter how I try to deny it, the feeling blooms stronger, refusing to be silenced.” As Y'shtola sighs as she watches the boat leave into the horizon.The moment Y’shtola knew it was love came during the Blood Banquet in Ul’dah, when Aldra rushed to her side, fierce and unyielding, to drive back the ambush that threatened her life. Amid the chaos, Aldra stood like a shield against those who sought to stain the Scions’ name. Y’shtola found no chance to speak her heart as they fled, yet the truth had already taken root within her: she longed to protect Aldra, to guide her through a world still so strange to the dragon princess and to remain by her side, always.
As Y’shtola waits for Aldra to call upon her, she returns to her studies, though her mind never strays far from the dragon princess. Days blur into weeks with no word, silence weighing heavier with each passing night. Far away in Tural, Aldra travels with the new Dawnservants, Wuk Lamat and Koana, seeking permission to continue her journey across the continent. Alisaie and the others turn to their own duties. Then, without warning, the world trembles as an immense dome rises over Yyasulani, and hostile forces pour forth from airships, a storm gathering while Y’shtola still lingers in her quiet longing.When Aldra returns to Tuliyollal to seek the source of the unrest, Krile hastens a message to G’raha Tia and Y’shtola, bidding them come swiftly to lend their aid. Together, Aldra, Alisaie, Alphinaud, and Krile press into the vast dome and find themselves in a realm swallowed by storm. Thunder rolls endlessly across a blackened sky, while jagged bolts of lightning strike the towering spires that loom like sentinels, each flash painting the land in fleeting, violent light.As Aldra and her companions cross the scarred lands of Alexandria, they encounter Sphene and soon arrive in Solution 9. There, amid the unrest, they come upon Wuk Lamat’s brother, Zoraal Ja, his mind lost to madness and conquest. Wuk Lamat herself arrives to confront him, and with Aldra and her companions at her side, she stands against her brother’s tyranny. In the midst of the struggle, Gulool Ja, Zoraal Ja’s forsaken son, earns the support of Wuk Lamat and the others. Yet as the truth of Sphene’s design is revealed, the path ahead grows darker, leading them to the Living Memory. With Y’shtola and G’raha Tia’s aid, a portal is opened, granting them passage into that forbidden place.Aldra, Alisaie, Alphinaud, and Wuk Lamat press into the depths of the Living Memory to confront Sphene and put an end to her scheme of draining souls to render her people Endless. At Alisaie and Alphinaud’s urging, Aldra agrees to face Sphene alone, while they and Wuk Lamat move to disable the towers fueling the region and sustaining her plan. Confident in her strength, Aldra accepts without hesitation—prepared to hold Sphene at bay, or to defeat her outright. Yet in the clash that follows, the dragon princess is marked: a deep scar cut across her left eye. Though her sight remains, the wound becomes an enduring reminder of the battle, and of the cost of standing against Sphene.With Sphene finally defeated, Aldra staggers from the main terminal, her body weary and marred by countless cuts and scratches. Alisaie steadies her, guiding her through the portal where G’raha Tia and Y’shtola await. Wuk Lamat is the first to greet them, while G’raha departs to tend to other matters. Y’shtola’s gaze lingers on Aldra’s battered form, her chest tightening at the sight. In that moment, her heart hardens with resolve: she will protect Aldra, even from herself if need be. For to lose the one she loves so deeply is a fate she cannot allow.
Y’shtola sits vigil beside Aldra’s sleeping form, her eyes tracing every bruise, every cut, the cruel scar carved across her eye. What should have been relief curdles instead into something darker, a simmering fury that Aldra had been left to face Sphene alone, and worse, that she had agreed. Reckless. Blind. Precious beyond measure, yet so careless with the life Y’shtola would sacrifice anything to preserve.Her hand lingers against Aldra’s cheek, gentle in touch though her heart thrums with steel. The vow she makes is no passing promise, it is a binding truth. Aldra will be protected, even from herself, even if her will must be broken and reshaped. Y’shtola feels it then, the weight of her own need coiling tighter, more dangerous: to guard, to possess, to claim. The distinction between devotion and domination slips away, until only a single certainty remains."She is mine. She will remain mine. And I will see to it, even if love must become a chain, even if tenderness must become control."
Months have passed since the battle with Sphene, and Y’shtola has scarcely left Aldra’s side as the dragon princess recovers. Time and again, she urges Aldra to let her be the shield that keeps her safe, yet Aldra only smiles, offering gentle reassurances that all is well, never sensing the intent hidden beneath Y’shtola’s words. Though a flicker of annoyance stirs at her refusals, Y’shtola veils it easily, content for now in the closeness she so fiercely covets. For behind her calm exterior lies an unshakable truth: she will not bend, nor will she risk losing Aldra. Whatever it takes, she will keep her.The next day, Aldra set out with Alisaie while Y’shtola remained behind, veiling herself in the guise of research. To the others, her efforts seemed noble, an inquiry into the secrets of travel between shards. But in truth, her focus had narrowed to a single point: Aldra. To protect her, to claim her, to shape her fate so completely that she could never be lost again.In Solution 9, Aldra paused at a salon, and later Y’shtola would see the change: her long hair shorn to a shorter style, the look sharpening her presence, giving her an edge that made Y’shtola’s breath catch. Renewal. Transformation. Each small change etched itself into Y’shtola’s mind, feeding the quiet fire that had long since taken root.Alisaie, eager to help her friend move forward, offered a new wardrobe to replace the garments ruined in battle. A sleeveless green crop top, silver shorts, dark gauntlets trimmed with crimson, and blackened combat boots. Strong. Beautiful. Entirely unforgettable. Y’shtola’s gaze lingered on every detail, not with idle admiration, but with a devotion that bordered on hunger. She masked it well, of course, but within her heart the truth remained constant: Aldra was hers. She had always been hers. And one day, Aldra would understand thatIn the stillness of their rest, Aldra’s quiet voice cut through the air like a blade of uncertainty. ‘What is love?’ The question, so guileless and earnest, struck Alisaie with surprise. For all the battles Aldra had weathered, she was still unversed in the subtler languages of the heart. Love was one of those mysteries, distant and unnamed within her.Alisaie faltered only a moment before a smile softened her face. To her, the answer seemed simple. She had seen how Y’shtola’s gaze lingered upon Aldra, how her voice warmed in ways it did for no one else. Perhaps this was the chance for truth to emerge. ‘Ask Y’shtola,’ she urged gently, her tone bright with certainty. ‘She’ll know what love means.’Alisaie believed she was guiding two hearts toward one another, playing the kindly matchmaker. Yet beneath her words lay the seed of something far more perilous. For Aldra sought only understanding, but Y’shtola’s heart was already ensnared, her love sharpened into fixation, her tenderness shadowed by resolve. Alisaie could not know it, but in that moment she had unwittingly set Aldra upon a path toward an answer that might embrace her… or consume her entirely.
The café was hushed, the low murmur of voices swallowed by the glow of lanternlight. Aldra sat rigid across from Y’shtola, her arms pressed tight against her thighs, her gaze fixed on the floor as though afraid to lift her eyes.At last, she spoke. ‘What is love?’ The words were soft, uncertain, and when they left her lips she faltered, stumbling to explain: the strange stirring she felt when close to another, the heat that unsettled her chest, the confusion that left her restless. She confessed that Alisaie had told her to seek Y’shtola’s counsel, believing she would have the wisdom to give meaning to these feelings.Y’shtola tilted her head slightly, her face serene, her voice smooth as velvet. ‘Love is devotion. It is the tether that binds two hearts as one. It is fierce, consuming, yet it shelters, sustains, and endures. It is the certainty that another belongs to you, and the will to protect them, even when they do not know they need protecting.’Aldra’s breath stilled. Her hands tightened on her knees, and though she did not speak the name of the one who haunted her thoughts, Y’shtola needed no confession. The silence between them was heavy with truth.Behind her calm smile, Y’shtola’s mind was anything but tranquil. So she feels it, yet does not understand. Good. Confusion is a door waiting to be opened, and I will be the one to lead her through it. If she cannot name love, I will give it shape. If she cannot claim it, I will place it in her hands. And if she resists… I will teach her, gently or otherwise, until she accepts what already binds us.She studied Aldra’s bowed form, her lashes lowered to mask the gleam in her eyes. Yes, let her ask me these questions. Let her come closer. Step by step, I will weave myself into the marrow of her being, until she cannot imagine life without me. For in the end, love is not freedom, it is possession made eternal.
Weeks slipped by since the fall of the Calyx of the Endless, its shadow scattered by Aldra and her companions. In the calm that followed, Y’shtola lingered ever nearer, weaving herself into the rhythm of Aldra’s days with patient grace. Each time Aldra shyly asked her about love—how to name it, how to share it—Y’shtola answered with gentle wisdom, soothing her uncertainty while quietly guiding her heart.To Alisaie, the sight was almost endearing: Aldra leaning closer, her every glance betraying a kind of quiet swooning, her admiration blooming like spring. A touch of concern nagged at her, but she chose instead to smile, believing love was finally finding its way between them.But beneath Y’shtola’s calm replies and tender smiles stirred a deeper truth. She was not merely answering Aldra’s questions—she was shaping them, turning each word, each moment, into a thread that bound the dragon princess ever closer. And with every heartbeat, the web tightened—sweet to behold, yet edged with something far more dangerous.”
Alisaie had meant only to check on them, to reassure herself that Aldra’s closeness with Y’shtola was the comfort it appeared to be. Yet as she approached, unease curdled in her chest. The air between them was too still, too heavy, as though the room itself held its breath.Y’shtola turned, the faintest curve of a smile at her lips, but her eyes… they burned with a depth Alisaie could not name. Then, with a motion both delicate and inexorable, she caught Aldra’s chin and drew her near.The kiss that followed was no tender exploration. It was slow, consuming, a velvet snare. Aldra leaned into it, uncertain yet eager, unaware of the shadow coiling around her.Finally, Y’shtola thought, tasting the shiver of Aldra’s surrender. Every question Aldra had brought her, every shy attempt to define love, had been a thread, and she had pulled each one taut, weaving them into this moment. A moment not of revelation, but of capture.The kiss deepened, a binding seal. Aldra believed it to be affection; in truth it was conquest, as inevitable as nightfall. Y’shtola would not release her now. She would not allow it.To Alisaie, it looked wrong, too fierce, too absolute, but she could not yet fathom the truth: Y’shtola’s love was not the shelter Aldra sought, but a cage, waiting to close.
