Chapter Text
PART ONE
CHAPTER 1
Nero Scaeva woke up to the taste of bile in his throat and a left eye that refused to open, no doubt far too swollen from the beating he'd received earlier that day. He licked his dry upper lip and tasted flakes of crusted blood, though he couldn't tell if it was from a broken nose or a cut lip—he was in too much pain to surmise what had been done to him. He spat on the floor, staining a gorgeous, handmade rug with his blood. His remaining functioning eye finally adjusted to his surroundings; they had put him in some sort of office instead of a holding cell. Nero couldn't help but laugh at the thought that even an interrogation room would be decorated so opulently in city of Ul'dah.
The smile on his face remained despite the dread pooling in his heart, threatening to rise as even more vomit. Good, he thought bitterly, I should ruin this entire bloody carpet. He stepped on the bit of blood he had spat just moments ago and rubbed it violently with his boot, trying to spread it as much as he could. He spat again for good measure too. If he was to be killed, then he'd make sure his last action on this stupid star is ruining the one thing a rich person would love more than anything: a one of a kind, expensive possession. He knew that the towering factories that could mass produce these rugs hadn't reached this backwards land just yet. Hopefully, neither has hydrogen peroxide.
Nero stretched on his seat, cracking his neck as he tried to figure out what sort of bindings they had tied him down with. When he tried to move his wrists, he felt no tangible metal or rope, but instead some sort of force keeping his hands and ankles together. Magic, then. Nero grit his teeth and dropped the hairpin he'd been holding to the floor. No wonder they didn't take it away from him, the Flames knew it would be useless the instant they saw his third eye.
I am going to die here, Nero thought to himself. Nineteen summers and nothing to show for it. Just another war statistic. Another line in Eorzea's tally.
Part of him wished they would just come in already and finish the job. He was, of course, far too terrified to fall asleep again, both in fear that he might suffer more damage to his brain if he did so and in the minuscule chance that he didn't wake up before the leader of the Flames arrived. He wanted to look at the Eorzean right in the eyes and spit on his face! He hoped they had the decency of killing him quickly. Above all else, Nero was bored. A fate worse than death, in his opinion.
He had no idea how much time passed before someone finally opened the door. It could've been hours or just a few minutes, but it was foolish of them to have him wait so long, it only gave him more time to stew in his hatred. He continued to look down at the blood drying against the Ul'dahn rug even as he heard multiple steps enter the room. They all stood in silence for a few moments until a final set of steps entered the door before the door was closed, accompanied by the sound of a cane hitting the stone tile floor that was then muffled against the rug.
That must be him. Nero had never seen the High Flames Commander of the Immortal Flames in person before. In fact, he'd tried his best to avoid him as much as possible. He was warned that meeting Alabaster Baidur IV was the worst possible route one could take as a member of the Frumentarium. Yet here he was, staring at the man's large, impeccably polished leather shoes. His gaze rose ever so slightly at the sight of his long tail, adorned with golden rings and chains. Even one's appendages must be ostentatious in this city.
"Look at me, Garlean." The Commander said with a low, gravely voice that reminded Nero of an alligator's growl. Still, Nero continued his useless efforts to avoid eye contact as long as possible. A sudden cold pain hit his chin far too quickly for Nero to react. His ornamental cane pushed upwards, forcing Nero to look at the Commander. He wanted to scream and tell him to go to the hells that he so foolishly believed in. He wanted his first interaction with the other man to be spitting on his face. Nero liked to think he only existed to prove a point. Instead, for the first time in his life, the sight of another man almost made him choke on his own spit.
Commander Alabaster Baidur IV was an au ra, one of the very few in this city, who towered over everyone in the room in both stature and status. He had deep blue skin adorned with golden freckles that reminded Nero of the first time he saw night sky in the Thanalan desert, untouched by any sort of artificial light. His hair was black, short, and neatly slicked back, with a darkness that seemed to blend in with his dark scales and horns. One horn was decorated with golden rings and a chain that seemed to act as an earring. The other was not as decorated as it was broken in half, one of the many scars that adorned the man even with the glimpse of skin he showed, the rest covered by a well tailored suit. The most noticeable scar was over his left eye, it went from above his brow and down to his cheekbone, though most of it was covered by a black leather eye patch. His remaining eye was a golden hazel that matched his freckles. He had a large, aquiline nose that made him look even more striking. Nero had only been given one daguerreotype of the man before he entered the city, one that had been taken about twenty years prior to celebrate Mister Baidur becoming Captain of the Flames at the young age of nineteen. He had the same scar and eye patch even then. Nero remembered thinking he was handsome, despite his better judgment and the primitive technology used to take it. That day, Livia told him to never forget Baidur's face. If only she knew how certain he was that he never would.
"What is your name?" The Commander asked.
Nero rolled his eyes. "Elagabalus tol Cinna"
"A tol? At your age?" It earned him a scoff that irritated Nero to no end. "Besides, a member of the Cinna family would never have as much scarring on their third eye as your own. Do not lie to me, boy." The older man said coldly. Nero frowned, he didn't expect a savage to understand the nuances of their third eyes, much less to be able to differentiate them. Nero's instinct was to reach up and cover it self-consciously, but he tugged at his bindings to no avail.
"Just kill me and be done with it." Nero hissed. "Why are you wasting your time? I'm not going to tell you anything."
The Commander snapped his fingers, beckoning a younger looking Flame soldier to bring a small metal chest that looked all too familiar to Nero. He could feel his heart sink at the sight. If he wasn't dead before, he definitely was now.
"While you were unconscious, we were able to locate your hiding spot deep in the lower levels of the city. With enough coin, we were told exactly which room you were staying at, the hours you typically left, and for how long. There, we found this. I admit, your tinkering with the locks was sound. It took an effort comprised of the head of the Goldsmith's Guild and five separate thaumaturges in order to open it." The chest clicked open, revealing his collection of blueprints, sketches, and one of the latest contraptions he had been working on in his spare time. When Baidur took it in his hands, Nero almost whimpered out loud. One false move from the man and moons worth of work on the circuity would be gone. Baidur looked at it carefully, clearly unsure what it could be, and gently set it to the side.
He focused on the blueprints instead, opening one up and showing it to Nero. "I was informed this was a design for a new sort of engine. Scaevan made, according to the notes on the margins. My engineer knew of no such make, might I assume it's your last name, then?"
Nero said nothing.
Commander Baidur took another. "And this, as I was told, is some sort of device that might allow for the personal control of an Allagan node. How preposterous, my engineer said this seemed more like the designs of a mad scientist rather than a proper Garlean inventor."
"Your engineer is an idiot." Nero scoffed. He didn't want to see him touching his precious designs any longer. "My designs are sound, mostly tested, and would work just as intended. No one else could create or build one save for me. If your so-called engineers even so much as think of trying to replicate my designs you would waste your precious gil and time. Not even my fellow countrymen could attempt to make it. You can't even tell the difference between an engine and a data transfer device, you have them backwards, you savage dolt!"
His words seemed to have no effect on the other man. Commander Baidur looked between the two documents and shrugged, switching their place on the table for his soldiers to inspect. "I see, my apologies. I will make note of this once they're sold to the proper manufacturing company."
"What?"
"Baidurian made." The older man said flatly.
"No. No! I made them, it took me moons to design them all. I would rather them destroyed before you even think about selling them as your own. They're my designs!" Nero struggled against his bindings once more, desperate to grab them away from their inferior understanding. The instant they even had the slightest idea what the designs were for once combined, torture would feel like a mercy. The fate of the war and the entire star would be forever changed, even if the Empire did not believe it to be so.
His thrashing only made the bindings around his chest tighten, or someone in the room cast a spell to enforce them. He cried out, throwing his head back as all the pain in his body returned. Nero grit his teeth in an effort not to cry. Let them see him in pain, but he would never allow them to see him crying. No one was. He forced himself to look at the Commander once more and hoped his rage showed through far more than his misery.
"Now, tell me, what is your name and rank?" Commander Baidur asked.
Nero spoke between labored breaths. "Nero Scaeva. Training Architectus of the XIVth legion, under the command of Legatus Baelsar."
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen summers."
Commander Baidur titled his head. "And your reason for entering Ul'dah?"
He paused, unsure of how much information he could safely give away. And even more important, how much they might already know. If he lies, will the Commander see right through him? Will they finally kill him? Maybe the man will give him the mercy of a quick death, he'd heard a single blow to the head from Baidur would kill any man instantly.
The pain exhausted him too much to continue to lie to himself. Nero didn't want to die.
"I was instructed to deliver a sum of gil to another informant here in the city who would then deliver it to our ally in your Syndicate. Teledji Adeledji, who was assisting us in transferring investment money towards our efforts through secret accounts maintained in the Platinum Mirage." He said flatly, gauging the reaction from all the Ul'dahns in the room. Though, judging from their lack of reactions, no one seemed to be surprised. It was a nation built from bribery and deceit, after all. A large woman writing faster than he'd ever seen anyone write was archiving their entire conversation on a large book. With ink and a quill. He almost laughed out loud at the sight. If it wasn't for the fact that he was certainly meeting his end, Nero would try to show them far more efficient ways to record their conversations.
"Good. That wasn't so hard, wasn't it?" He turned around and began to dismiss the Flames near the door, save for one miqo'te woman wearing white robes. Nero flinched as she stepped closer. She looked at Commander Baidur once, who gave her a silent nod, before she began raising her hands towards him.
"Do not use your magic on me!" Nero warned with a snarl. "I refuse to be killed by magic! Stab me, shoot me, hit me! Kill me like a man, you coward!"
She did not listen and, much to Commander Baidur's amusement, caused Nero to cry out the instant her hands came into contact with either side of his face. Though, instead of pain, waves of relief passed through his body like a soothing balm. The swelling on his eye lowered, his damaged ribs cracked and settled back into place. Nero flexed his wrists and felt no pain from the bindings, he found no bruising on his legs. Nero fluttered both eyes open and met the Commander's gaze once more.
He blew away the strand of blonde hair that fell over his face. "What was that for?" He asked.
It took a moment for the Commander to respond. The au ra continued to stare at him with an unreadable expression. The longer he examined Nero, the more his gaze seemed to bore into Nero's skin. Nero looked away, finding that he could think of no cruel retort to hurl at him. He felt tongue-tied.
The healer coughed.
"I shall be in touch with Legatus Gaius van Baelsar at once regarding your exchange for one of the many hostages your legion still hold captive." Commander Baidur said quickly. Nero noticed that he fiddled with his fingers as he spoke, his pointer finger — or claw, rather — repeatedly brushed against the fabric over his thumb. A nervous tic. "I'm sure whatever you Garleans have in store as punishment is far worse than anything we could offer."
It felt as if the blood had suddenly left his face.
"You aren't going to just kill me?" Nero asked, unsure of what to do with this feeling of relief and terror washing over him all at once. He's almost annoyed that he'd been forced to face his own mortality just moments ago. At his age, he had more than enough time to worry about such things. Though, the Commander might be correct, he'd never heard of a spy being exchanged by to his people's army after an utter failure. Garleans do not treat failure lightly. If he were of higher rank and had a subordinate fail as miserably as him, he would have ordered their execution immediately. He had no doubt his fellow soldiers would feel the same. Especially since none of them liked him…
He joined the military to prove a point. To become more than what was ever expected of him. He'd rather die in these savage lands than to ever return to his people only to have his memory shunned and forgotten. Garleans do not believe in an afterlife. No second chances, no take backs. To have his one and only life wasted feels like a mockery against his very soul.
"I was under the impression your barbaric lands would waste no time killing a spy of an enemy country. Do you intend to treat me as a punching bag for your own pleasure, Commander?" Nero asks as the healer is dismissed. Only one other remained in the room apart from the Commander: the Flames recorder, who continued to furiously write down every single word uttered in this room.
"That has never been the case. My own former superior was arrested on suspicion of espionage, and rose up in ranks to buy our famed Gladiatorial Arena and a high ranking place in the Immortal Flames, which he passed on to me. Ul'dah is not a place known for mercy, but I am not the savage your people so often claim me to be." Commander Baidur said, almost defensively. "I will return you to your people and allow you to be court-martialed accordingly."
He let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "You are wasting your time. Baelsar will not even respond to your message if he knows its I you wish to exchange, he would not tolerate my failure. You might as well tell whatever messenger you sent to return. I am not worth a hostage's life."
"Baelsar would be so quick to dismiss one of his own spies?"
"To be fair, this was my first mission."
Commander Baidur scoffed. "You are still one of his men."
"A man that failed what should've been an easy task, making me effectively worthless to the Empire." He snarled. "The instant I am gone there will be thirty other rookies desperate to suckle at his teat. A few more victories and I fear they will worship him just as much as you do your false Twelve."
That, somehow, makes the older man pause. "And what of your designs? These patents, have they no use to the Garlean military? There are many plans for weaponry the likes of which I have never seen."
Somehow, the nicest words ever uttered about the importance of his intellect are from an enemy commander who's holding him hostage. Nero almost toppled the chair he's tied to over in his excitement. "Exactly! But they don't see their potential! I am nothing more than a petty repairman expected to work with magitek built before I was even born! And all weapons design goes to a subpar engineer who has no idea what he's doing!"
Commander Baidur eye grew wide at his outburst before returning to his stoic gaze once more. "I see…" He said, returning his attention to Nero's blueprints, which Nero doubted the Commander understood in any way.
The room fell silent, giving the recorder a moment of reprieve. Nero wondered what she thought of them now, watching Commander Baidur's plans fall through so quickly, without being allowed to even interject.
He bit the side of his lip as he thought of any way out of this. Could he truly offer his services to the Eorzean alliance, a set of city-states that have barely invented central heating? Would they have any use of him, or would they toss him aside in this city just as quickly a they do any foreign refugee seeking aid? Would working in some sort of primitive guild barely worth his time be better than a certain death?
He looked up at the Commander once more, who had opened the door ever so slightly to utter whispered commands at his soldiers. Nero cleared his throat, demanding attention. The Commander turned around with an irritated look on his face. "What is it now, Mister Scaeva?"
"And what if I denounce my allegiance to the Garlean Empire and seek asylum here in Ul'dah? I can be an engineer for the Immortal Flames, far surpassing any engineer you currently have in your employment, and I can easily assist the Sultanate in introducing magitek to not only Thanalan, but the rest of the city-states. As well as, of course, any information I can provide that will give you an advantage." Nero said proudly, or as proudly as a man tied to a chair can be.
Information. It was the only thing he could offer— his life, in exchange for whatever secrets he can divulge. Which frankly, wasn't a whole lot. He was of low rank, and information within the Empire has always been given on a need to know basis— scouts like him seldom need to know. But the Syndicate didn't need to know that, and he'd string the Commander along as far as he can if it meant prolonging his life and any eventual chance at escape.
The Commander studied him, no doubt trying to decide if he was lying—or if he was even worth the risk. Thankfully for both of them, Nero was not lying. He would give the information freely, save up as much coin as possible, steal an airship and fly to the Northern Empty to seek asylum in the hopefully less primitive nation of Old Sharlayan. A foolproof plan.
"And you would betray your nation so quickly?"
"Wouldn't you, if you were to return to your home only to be met with certain death? Second chances are not a commonly held belief in Garlemald." Nero said.
"You do not speak fondly of the Empire, or its people." The Commander observed. "May I ask why?"
Nero paused, taken aback by such a personal question. He thought back to his mother, who was the only one to truly believe in him. To his grandfather, who only ever believed him to be a helpful hand around the farm. To Gaius, who had promised him a bright future with such an charming, firm touch. He thinks of Cid…
"I gave the Empire everything, and I received nothing in return." He said simply. "I do not operate on inexorable loyalty. I am simply far too intelligent to follow anything blindly, and the Empire is not fond of those like me."
Another pause, the Commander crossed his arms and stared at him, deep in thought. With a sharp command, he dismissed his soldiers, all of them obeying his command immediately. He glanced at the recorder and, for a brief second, he swore she looked at him with a tinge of worry in her eyes. The silence broke when Baidur raised his hand and dismissed the recorder. Her eyebrows were raised up to her hairline, but she obeyed his order without protest.
Before she left, the Commander glanced at her over his shoulder. "Tell them to release the bindings on his ankles."
"Yes, sir." She replied and gently closed the door behind her. Nero heard it lock, but was too distracted by the relief of finally being able to stretch his legs. He stretched his feet out, rotating his ankles and enjoying the satisfying crack of his bones.
"My, my, Commander, are we speaking off the record now?" He smirked. Truth be told, Nero felt more terrified than when he thought he was being killed. Despite having slightly more freedom of movement, his wrists were still bound and he was stuck in a room with a powerful, terrifying man. When Baidur stepped closer, Nero couldn't help but sit up straight on instinct, as if his own Legatus had walked into the room.
"Due to Ala Mhigo recently joining the Eorzean alliance, and our treaty concerning their remaining refugees, Ul'dah does not grant any kind of political asylum towards defecting Garleans." Commander Baidur said in a monotone voice. "Any sort of exception would have to go through multiple bureaucratic checks, both through the the Sultanate and all eight viziers of Ul'dah, including our representative of Ala Mhigo. Even if they come to an agreement, the process would take moons, and no doubt with strong protest from the populace."
Nero's heart sank once more. "And… what of my designs?"
"They must remain property of the Immortal Flames." Baidur said, almost sounding apologetic.
He looked down, staring at his blood that still stained the expensive rug. Nero sniffed. He could blame any tear that threatened to fall on his anger, but he couldn't justify his despair. Nero was supposed to go out in a blaze of glory, not like this. Not in such a pitiful display of defeat.
"However," the Commander began, this time gently nudging his cane against his chin, "there are other ways."
The older man put on a pair of golden spectacles and opened up an old looking book, though Nero could not tell what it was about from where he stood. The long pause of silence was maddening but he knew shouting at the man would just prove to be useless. Nero paced in circles, an act that made Baidur glance up at him in confusion before returning to his reading.
Finally, the Commander shut the book with a loud thud. "Mister Scaeva, I can offer you three options today. Ultimately, it will be up to you to decide which route you would like to take with your life, but I implore that you listen to each one before you make a decision."
Nero quirked a brow, unsure of how he could possibly calm his nerves down. Knowing what he knew about Ul'dah and the rest of Thanalan, he could only expect the worst. His mind immediately assumed he was to be sold to slavery, a practice he knew was both now forbidden in the city and a thriving part of its industry. He swallowed hard. "Go on."
"Your first option is that you refuse that we contact your Legatus and petition the Sultanate for political asylum in exchange for information, a process that, as I mentioned, may take moons and does not guarantee that it will be granted. For all I know, it may be rejected outright and a vote may take place for your execution." Commander Baidur paused, offering Nero an opportunity to respond.
He said nothing.
The Commander continued. "Your second option is exile, which I have the authority to enforce. You will be forced out of the city and left in the Sagoli Desert with no belongings or weapons. Many choose this option, as it does not mean certain death. Though, it is a nearly impossible, and very few are ever heard of again."
"Wonderful, I can choose to be on death row or I can choose to die of heat exhaustion in the most unforgiving desert in the star. You're truly allowing me to exercise my freedoms, Commander." Nero rolled his eyes, growing annoyed. "What's the third option? You'll be sold as a show bunny to the Gold Saucer? You can choose to offer your organs to the Alchemist's guild in exchange for enough gil to buy your freedom? You may be offered as fresh meat to the Amalj'aa—"
The Commander frowned. "The Amalj'aa do not consume the flesh of men. They live on a diet mostly consisting of insects and cactuar."
"Whatever. Go on and tell me the third punishment I can choose." Nero huffed.
Commander Baidur rested both hands against his cane. He was rubbing his finger against his thumb again. "The third option is that we get married—"
Nero interrupted him with a laugh. "You can't be serious!"
"I consulted my book of Ul'dahn law and confirmed that there is no clause forbidding the marriage between an citizen of Ul'dah and a Garlean soldier. And—"
"You are utterly mad! And here I thought I was mad! I would never lay with a savage such as you—"
His cane hit the floor with so much force a floor tile cracked beneath it. "Listen to me!" The Commander yelled, his voice so deep and loud it almost seemed to make the room shake around him. "Did I not ask that you allow me to finish before you made your decision?"
He could not believe he was even allowing himself to listen to the man's offer. He should be grabbing the nearest sharp object and opting for a death by combat instead. But the tone of the Commander's voice struck him to his very core. Once again, he felt frozen. Unable to move despite wanting nothing more than to crash through his office door and run way. Nero grit his teeth and nodded.
"Thank you. What Garlean nonsense…" Commander Baidur sighed. "Marriage would be the fastest way to gaining Ul'dahn citizenship and, in tow, the protections and privileges offered to all citizens of the Eorzean alliance. It will be easier to denounce your Garlean citizenship without fear of extradition as you would be directly under my protection, and you will be allowed to keep your designs and register your patents under your name."
Nero scoffed once, then twice, then once more as he tried to string a sentence together. Marrying an Eorzean, an Ul'dahn Commander no less? The leader of a Grand Company sworn to defeat his people? A man with a seat in the Syndicate and head of the very organization that captured and almost beat him to death? He'd never be able to show his face in Garlemald again. He'd be labeled a traitor and a coward. He'd be nothing more than a trophy for the older man to display to the rich, disgusting businessmen and viziers that truly rule this corrupt city.
And yet, the Commander's promise made him pause. He'd be able to own his designs. If he were ever to return to Garlemald unscathed, he'd still have to wait until he was promoted as an architectus magiteci before he would even begin to be taken seriously, and all of his ideas would immediately become property of the Garlean army. Some praefecti demand credit for any design made by an engineer under their command. Would it truly be any better?
Ul'dah was a despicable city where only the wealthy could succeed. But if he were to gain an advantage by marrying a rich and powerful man…
What the hells is wrong with you? He asked himself. This is just like the last time.
"You would truly allow me to register my inventions under my own name? And what if they are successful, I revolutionize all of Eorzea, as is my plan, and I make all the gil in the star? Would you change your mind and demand part of the credit?" Nero asked, knowing fully well it was a stupid question, but he had to see how the other man would react to the very idea.
Surprisingly, it made Commander Baidur laugh. The au ra had a deep, rumbling laugh that reminded Nero of the stories he read when he was younger of dragons laughing at an adventurer's feeble attempt of slaying them. "Forgive me, you are very confident in your creations. Rest assured, I already have all the gil in the star."
Nero felt his cheeks grow warm. "But why? Why even offer this as an option? I am a now disgraced Garlean soldier, you are the Commander of the Immortal Flames. I was under the impression that you rich people are constantly worried about the gossip and the scandal that surrounds your social circles. You marrying a Garlean would be nothing short of a massive scandal for yourself and your army."
"A good Ul'dahn knows how to make any scandal work for them. Though, I take it you are not interested in my proposition, then."
Nero frowned. "I... said nothing of the sort."
Commander Baidur stared at his gloves, once again fiddling with his fingers. "I have spent far too much of my life worrying about decorum. I no longer wish to be alone and miserable."
It was a far more honest answer than Nero ever expected.
But what of his own misery?
"Are you so desperate for something interesting in your life that you're prepared to marry a man who would otherwise be sentenced to death instead of… oh, I don't know, anyone else in this city?!" Nero stepped closer. It was difficult to act bold with one's hands tied to their back, but he did his best regardless.
"Yes." The older man said simply.
Either he's mad or there's something deeply wrong with him. Nero thought. Something that would explain why he's single despite being the most handsome man I've ever seen in my life.
"Is that why you made the offer? Is there something about me that makes me your… your preference?!" Nero snarled.
"Yes. I have a particular fondness for blondes."
He answered it so matter-of-factly, so bluntly, Nero almost felt stupid for asking. Did the man not understand the concept of a rhetorical question?
Three options. Two that would most certainly end with him being killed, and one that would end with a no doubt miserable man who probably wanted to fuck him until he eventually became bored of him. Maybe the Commander had a thing for Garleans, mayhaps he found them exotic. Nero has had more than his fair share of horrible sex, some traumatic, some laughably bad, and some just simply boring. He would be able to handle another, at least until he managed to find a way to divorce the man. Or fake his death, steal his money, and run away as far away as the gil would allow him to.
"You're not giving me much of a choice…"
"But it is still yours." Commander Baidur said gently, as if he was soothing a wild hound. Nero didn't notice how much he was trembling until he finally felt the magical chains the bound his wrists come undone with a simple gesture from the Commander. He held his hands at his chest and soothed the tender skin. Where he stood, he could see at least twelve different objects he could use as a weapon— a letter opener, a spare cane, a sword hanging behind the Commander's desk as if it was placed there deliberately to tempt him. He could try to kill him, he could succeed and take all the gold in the room. And even with the microscopic chance that he even made it past the guards waiting outside, what then?
What of his own loneliness?
"Do you make this offer to all of your political prisoners?" Nero asked with a false smile.
"No. Just you." The Commander said, once again missing his opportunity to make a joke or answer sarcastically as anyone else would. Nero did not know how to react to his honesty. "I think you're beautiful, and I did not want to see someone so beautiful die. I am fully aware it is a selfish thing to think, but it's true. I have no other excuse."
No one had ever called him beautiful before. His arms were too long, his body was too skinny. His freckles covered his body like some sort of disease. His mother cut open his third eye before it was ever supposed too emerge, and now it was surrounded by an ugly ring of scar tissue that would never look right. The rest of his body was covered in scars from dozens of technical mishaps over the years. Not to mention the mounds on his chest, which caused some people to look at him with nothing but scorn. No matter how much confidence Nero feigned to have, no matter how much his intellect surpassed everyone around him, he was always reminded that he was once an ugly, poor, odd girl.
Was he truly so weak that his heart raced at the first man who called him beautiful? The stranger who essentially bribed him into a forced marriage?
Well, he thought, it was better than dying.
"I accept your third offer." Nero answered far too quickly for his own liking. "It's only logical, of course. I see no reason why I would risk death over accepting a marriage. Besides," He looked away and shrugged, "Once I am a citizen and I have my business in order, we can simply get divorced. Easy as that." Thankfully, the older man said nothing in response to his admittedly awkward statement.
"I will prepare a statement regarding our union at once, and inform the recorder once I inspect you. If you could please take off all your clothes, Mister Scaeva."
Nero froze, his blood rushing from his body and down to the soles of his feet. The older man suddenly stabbing him would've been less surprising than this. "Excuse me? Why the hells would I need to strip?!"
"Because I would like to inspect your body, as I just stated." Commander Baidur said calmly. "If we are to be wed, I would like to know what you look like properly, what might ail you, and I must verify if you are a virgin."
Nero guffawed, unable to find the words to express his confusion. Was dying of starvation and thirst truly so horrible in comparison? He thought. "Nothing ails me, I am most certainly not a virgin, and you can know what I look like in due time! You bloody Ul'dahns are the most ridiculous, backwards—"
"Mister Scaeva, I believe you are in no position to protest." Commander Baidur reminded him in a low, commanding tone that made him shiver. His eyes once again drifted off to the letter opener just a few ilms away. The older man must have noticed his sudden train of thought and grabbed the small silver blade in his massive hands. It probably cost more than his annual military salary. Commander Baidur inspected it for a moment, twirling it in his hands as his golden eye stared at Nero, tempting him to make a horrible decision. "Strip."
The horror of what he'd agreed to was starting to dawn on him. He could choose as pathetic death or he could choose to allow himself to be molested.
But he truly, truly did not want to die.
When he first came to the city, he'd purchased some cheap, local clothing in order to try to blend in with the locals. It was far less layers than he was accustomed to wearing, and even the cheapest clothing in Ul'dah had some sort of ornate, hand crafted pattern than he would have loved to own under any other circumstances. He tried to focus on the patterns that adorned his shoes as he took them off. If he focused on anything other than the Commander's ardent gaze, he might be able to return to some semblance of sanity. Then came his trousers, which fell to the floor unceremoniously as he undid the knot at his small waist. Even the smallest size the merchant offered for hyurs were too big for him. Nero's hands paused as they reached for the buttons of his shirt—he was wearing a tighter shirt underneath to hide his small breasts, and while the loose fitting robe he was wearing over it managed to hide them entirely, they would be revealed the instant he took it off. What if the Commander would look upon him with scorn and disgust, just as so many had done back home? He was aware that there were no laws against the changing of one's gender in Eorzea, but there were technically none that forbade it back in Garlemald either, and yet he still suffered at the hands and words of ignorant idiots.
If he says even one word against my body, I will reach for the blade. Nero decided. And if he doesn't…
Nero swallowed and allowed his shirt to fall to the floor as well. He kept his eyes locked on the Commander's face the entire time, but all he saw was a momentary eyebrow raise that immediately fell back into place. He could not determine what it could mean. Confusion? Shock? Realization? Still, he did not seem disgusted.
He hated how relieved he felt.
His undershirt came next, which he took off as quickly as he could. He shivered, both at the sudden chill he felt from the breeze hitting his bare skin and the way the older man's gaze instantly moves from his eyes to his breasts. How typical…
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Commander Baidur gestured his cane at his underpants.
"Don't bloody rush me." Nero growled, his face burning with embarrassment. "I can't believe I'm doing this…"
He stood in the middle of the Commander's office fully nude and at attention. If he could pretend that this was some sort of routine military medical inspection, then maybe he could ignore how quickly he began to breathe the closer the other man was to him. The au ra towered over him, and while he was taller than most hyur in Ul'dah thanks to his Garlean stature, he felt minuscule compared to how tall—and how wide—this man was. He shivered as the Commander circled him not unlike a shark would circle an unsuspecting fisherman.
He felt something cold press against his back. The tip of his ornate cane, Nero realized, nudged him to stand up straighter like some sort of etiquette teacher. He clenched his jaw as Commander Baidur's large hand moved his hair out of the way from his neck. The man leaned down to sniff him, but said nothing. Nero felt mortified, not at the fact that he was being inspected like some sort of farm animal, but that his immediate worry was that his scent might not be to the Commander's liking.
Judging from the heat that began to pool between his legs, his mind wasn't the only thing that was betraying him.
"Are you quite finished?" Nero snapped once the older man stood in front of him. Two massive hands held his head and, for a brief moment, Nero thought of how easily it would be for Baidur to crack his neck and kill him instantly.
But the man did not offer such mercy. "Open your mouth."
Nero swallowed and did as told. Commander Baidur tilted his head to the sides, then up, then down, and it was only then that Nero realized his teeth were being inspected. Using his thumb, the Commander lifted his lips and checked each section of his mouth, even going so far as to insert his finger and feel back to his molars. Nero couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped him. He was drooling all over the Commander's fancy white gloves. When the older man finally removed his from his face, Nero found that he was breathing harder than he has before. Somehow, having his mouth violated so thoroughly was the most invasive and erotic thing he's ever experienced.
"I… What are you—"
"I'm almost done, I promise." Commander Baidur reassured him. When he felt his touch against his lower back, he realized the man was no longer wearing his gloves, possibly due to them being covered in his spit. Nero looked over his shoulder and saw this tucked neatly into Baidur's vest pocket.
"Bend over on the desk for me, please." He said gently, as if he was a doctor that truly was allowed to do this. To touch him in this way. Nero's head felt heavy in a way he could not describe. "Keep your hands flat on the table at all times."
When Nero did not immediately move, the Commander pushed him down. Not hard enough to seem forceful, no. He was guiding him like a hound on a leash. Nero would not muster the strength to stop him. His lack of protest terrified him. Had he been drugged? He did not recall having anything to drink since he was beaten and detained. He swallowed down the spit forming in his mouth and falling from the corner of his lips.
"Don't. Please don't. Not like this." He begged, pressing his legs together in a useless attempt to stop what he thought was about to happen. "Minime, te oro!"
He felt the man standing behind him, pushing him down in place with his palm pressed between his shoulders, though not hard enough to hurt. "I will not. I promise you. It will be quick. Stay in place, I need to find another set of clean gloves."
Nero closed his eyes to brace himself for the incoming lie, because of course a man like him would lie. A man of his stature, his power, would be capable of anything with no consequence whatsoever. For all he knew, he was about to be killed. All promises of freedom and marriage were only a ruse in order to have his way with him. Nero had fallen for it before.
And yet, he heard no sound of a belt being undone, nor of trousers falling to the floor. Instead, he heard the Commander's step grow farther, possibly from the other end of the room. Then, the sound of a cabinet being open. Each second felt like an eternity to Nero. He was waiting—or rather begging for something horrible to happen to him. At least something would make sense if the Commander would have his way with him, as many other men are wont to do.
The steps grew closer once more, a large hand once again held him in place. The Commander gently pushed his feet apart in order to spread his legs. Nero swore under his breath. He could have made a run for it when Commander Baidur had been on the other side of the room, but instead he stayed in place like an idiot. Yet, he shuddered at the thought of what sort of punishment this perverted man would have for him if he disobeyed such a simple order. Nero stayed still, brows furrowed and eyes tightly shut.
"It will be a sudden intrusion, but it will only be a moment. Keep your breaths steady for me." The Commander said. Nero did not dare to open his eyes, though he did not understand why. The hand that was holding him in place moved to spread the lips of his cunt, which was practically dripping with his incomprehensible arousal. Nero focused on breathing through his nose. In. Then out. In. Then out.
The Commander's finger was almost as thick as a cock, one more and he'd be writhing in a sick combination of pain and pleasure, but none came. He kept his word, and it felt more like a medical examination rather than sex. It must've been inside of him for less than a second. Baidur pulled out his finger and spread his arse. Nero gasped as he felt the ghost of a touch hover over his hole, but no further intrusion came.
"Done. You may get dressed." Said the Commander, moving away from Nero's body with a calmness and poise that left Nero more confounded than offended. He offered Nero a hand as he straightened back up, left trembling and naked. He picked up Nero's clothes, neatly folding them over the desk before handing them back to him, which made little to no sense to him, considering the fact that he was about to put them back on. Was the man trying to deliberately confuse him on purpose?
Nero shook his head and got dressed without another word. He's either going to kill me or do something even worse, Nero thought to himself. He watched as Commander Baidur took wrote something down on a large notepad. Unfortunately it was in Ul'dahn script, and Nero wasn't fluent enough to read it backwards just yet.
"Now what? Are we to get married now? What would do you need me to sign, or do you need to inspect me further to make sure my bloody feet are the proper shape before we can exchange our vows?"
The au ra looks up and tilts his head. "I do not need any further inspection, that will be done by my medical staff. And your feet are perfect. Men's size eight, correct?" He returned to his notes. "And there are many things I still need to have in order before the wedding can take place. First, I must make an announcement to the Flames and the Sultanate. You may stay here in the meantime. I will have someone bring you water and food, you must be famished."
Nero stared at him, dumbfounded. "Yes. Yes I am."
"Any allergies?"
"…None, but I do not like to eat pork."
"I will make note of that." He said, writing someone down quickly, most likely his dietary request, which made Nero believe all those notes must be about him. He looked away, embarrassed at being known, at being inspected like a show hound, and at being in this horrible situation in the first place.
The Commander turned around and opened the door to allow the recorder back into the room. She stood back to her previous spot, book and quill at the ready. A handful of guards entered the room as well, most of them shocked to see him without his bindings. They said nothing as they awaited their Commander's orders. He could see the hatred in their eyes, the hunger for violence. Nero looked away before they saw it reflected in his gaze.
"Everyone," Commander Baidur said, "I believe I have come to a decision."