Chapter Text
Sage knocks lightly on the door before he can talk himself out of it again. A desperate part hopes that maybe Edmont won’t hear it and he can leave before the bottomless pit in his stomach takes over.
Perhaps mercifully, or merciless, that doesn’t happen. “Enter.” His father calls. And so with a steadying breath, Sage pushes the old wooden door open. It’s too well kept to dare to creak or squeak, but he can’t help but think it would be appropriate if it did.
It’s a familiar sight to see Edmont with a quill in his hand, bent over some stacks of parchment. A book or two resting on the edge, a few letters stacked neatly just to the side.
His father raises his head from his work and Sage watches his gaze soften as he realizes it’s him. “Ah, Sage.” He greets warmly, quill being set aside. “Is it lunch already?”
Sage shakes his head. His heart is already thumping in his chest. He wants to wring his hands, shake off some of the nervous energy coursing through his veins. However, he does not do this. Only out of sheer stubborn will of not wanting to seem anxious. “No sir.” His father’s brow furrows a little bit. “I-um. If you uh, have the time-could I talk to you?”
Mentally, Sage curses himself. How had he butchered one sentence so damn badly? How had he let himself become so emotional? He used to be like a brick wall. All steel and hard edges.
He’s becoming soft.
“Sage.” Edmont interrupts his thoughts with a knowing look in his eyes. “Of course you can talk to me. I always have time for you.” He gestures at one of the plush chairs in front of the desk.
There it is again- the kindness. The care. The unhesitating gentleness. How does he do it? So effortlessly at that? Obediently, Sage takes a seat. He palms his sweaty hands on his trousers. Slightly grateful to have something to do with them. He can feel Edmont’s patient gaze on him, likely waiting for him to gather his thoughts. Thoughts that had been gathered before he stepped foot into the office- and now he’s not sure he’s ever had a single thought in his life.
Sage can’t bear to drag his gaze up to meet Edmont’s. It’d be too much, to see all the love and care directed at him. The words claw their way up his throat. Finding purchase and are desperate to be spoken despite how much Sage really doesn’t want to ask it. “Why are you so nice to me?”
The question drops like a weight. Settles heavily between them. There’s no ignoring it. He doesn’t get an answer straight away. The quiet that lingers is stifling, overbearing. Uncomfortable after such a question.
Then, finally, “Why wouldn’t I be?” Edmont questions back, voice oh so gentle. Sage knows he’s carefully chosen his words. He can hear it in his even, measured, tone. “You are my son. I treat you the same as I treat your brothers.”
Sage rolls his shoulders as if he could roll off the anxiety festering in him at being so vulnerable, even in front of someone who he knows would never hurt him. He tries to come up with words that accurately answers the question, but all he manages is: “It’s different.”
His father hums, obviously unconvinced. “Why? Because you are adopted? I’ve told you before, I care just as much for you as I do them.”
“I know-” He’s quick to reassure. He doesn’t want this to turn into something where his father thinks he holds any blame. “I-it’s not that- just- they deserve you being nice.”
Something settles into his father’s expression. Something old and worn and understanding. “And you don’t?” Edmont deduces levelly.
Sage doesn’t answer, just pulls his gaze away, and finally gives into the urge to wring his hands. Even for as long as he’s planned for this conversation, he still doesn’t have the words.
“My boy,” Edmont says after a moment. Sage can hear the sorrow in his voice. “Why is it you think yourself unworthy of being treated with any amount of decency? Of love?”
By the Twelve, he shouldn’t have brought this up. It was a bad fucking idea. Edmont will only be angry. He’s causing problems. He tries to swallow but it feels like sandpaper scratching his throat.
His gaze is firmly tucked down, laser locked onto a scratch on the foot of his father’s desk. “I…I’ve never had it before.” He finally admits, as though it’s a sin.
“Never?” He can hear the disbelief in his tone. ”What about when you were a boy?”
His shoulders curl in closer despite his protests. “My family didn’t like me much. Especially my father.”
Something must click for his father, for there’s an understanding that settles on his face. The disbelief is gone, now replaced with a practiced gentleness. “Do you want to tell me about them?” He asks carefully, and then reassures: “You don’t have to. We can talk about whatever you want.”
Sages gnaws at his lip. “I- there’s not much to tell.” He says after moment, tucking his gaze away once more. Much more certainly he adds: “You wouldn’t like hearing about them.”
Surprisingly, Edmont agrees. “Probably not. However, I want to hear it all the same, if you’re willing.”
Is he? Well, he supposes he has to be. After all, he came here for a reason, not really to ask why Edmont was nice to him. No, that sort of just happened. He needs help. Specifically, he needs Edmont’s help. “I grew up on the Steppe. In the Far East. My father-“ He hates calling him that. He doesn’t deserve that title. “Aiatar- he lead our clan. As such he needed an heir.” Singular. Just one. “But I was born a twin. He, um, wasn’t happy about that. I was just another mouth to feed.” When he got fed, that is.
He chances a glance to Edmont, he’s quiet, but the look in his eyes reassures him that he’s listening. The story isn’t polished- every word unsure. He’s never told anyone how he was raised. What happened.
“He didn’t like either of us- me or Culmar. But, my brother at least was granted the mercy of being the heir. Aiatar would never hurt him too badly.”
“Hurt him too badly?” Edmont interjects sharply, posture already straightening out, his protectiveness practically radiates off of him.
Sage manages a jerky nod of his head . “People don’t pay the spare much attention- but they’d notice if the heir is bruised and broken.” Culmar wasn’t spared- not completely, but never had his punishments be anywhere as severe as the ones he had been given.
“He’d beat you.” Edmont says after a moment- his tone unlike anything he’d ever heard from him before. It was cold. Flat. Lifeless. “For what?”
Sage blinks, and manages a half shrug. His hands cling together in an effort to stop their trembling. “Anything, I guess. I mean, when I messed up, yeah that was to expected, you know? I at least deserved that. But there were other times when he- he’d just be so angry at me for nothing.”
He chances a glance up only to find Edmont’s sharp blue eyes staring him down with a fury he’s never seen. “Sage. Listen to me when I say this: no child deserves to be beaten. For anything. Even if you had misbehaved- that’s not how children are meant to be disciplined.”
“But I-”
“No.” He’s cut off. “It’s called abuse for a reason. He was abusing his power over you. He wanted a power trip- to feel in control and he got that by hurting an innocent child.”
Sage takes a shaky breath, unsure on how to respond to such a deceleration- he knows that, it’s just different to be told that for the first time in his life. Instead of replying, he just continues on with his story. “People in our tribe knew what was going on- but he was the Khan. They didn’t dare speak up. At least, not until they had had a someone to champion against him. I don’t remember much about it- but I remember Aiatar loosing.”
His father’s gaze never leaves him, the scowl on his face making it clear what he thought of those who did nothing. “I’m assuming he did not take it well.”
It’s barely a question, but he nods all the same. “That same day he took Culmar and I on a trip. The first he’d ever taken us on- and for the first time he was nice.” Sage stresses. “He gave me clothes that weren’t rags- I was permitted to eat, talk even.” His knee bounces anxiously. “I didn’t know what it meant, then. Didn’t know what he was going to do.” His voice gives under the stress, and it’s enough for his father to slowly rise and round the desk. He approaches like one would a cornered animal and takes a seat beside Sage. He doesn’t reach out, but sits close enough that their legs touch.
“Sage.” He says softly. “What did he do to you?”
The touch helps- grounds him in the sea of memories. His voice is uncharacteristically small. “Took us to Yanxia Bay. Out to sea in a small rowboat.” He grips his pants leg. “Once we were out far enough, he pulled out a pistol and pointed it at me.” He hears Edmont’s breath catch. “I-I knew what was going to happen. But I didn’t know. All I knew was that I didn’t want to die. And he listened. Shot Culmar without another word and threw us both overboard.”His throat burns with the confession of his cowardice. With the guilt and blame that rest on his shoulders.
“How did you survive?” Edmont rasps, clear the story is getting to him, a hand rests on his knee, and in a moment of weakness, Sage clings to it.
Sage clears his throat, trying to escape the emotions. “There was some wood floating by- I clung to it. I didn’t know how to swim so it was my only option. It’s all a bit blurry after that.” Sage admits. “I remember being hungry, and like my skin was burning, but after that I remember waking up on a Limsa ship being spoken to in a language I didn’t know.”
Edmont holds his hand between both of his. “And they brought you to port.”
He nods. “Gave me a few gil and sent me on my way in a place I didn’t know with people who didn’t speak my language- I learned, eventually, even before I had the Echo. But it took time, so I didn’t speak for years.”
His father’s gaze furrows, “At all? To anyone?”
He shakes his head. “No. Even once I knew the language- I just didn’t want to.” Thankfully all of this is far easier to speak of than what had happened on the Steppe. “I was able to put on some weight, even with just eating scraps- and I’d go and find herbs that sold for the highest prices- Sage, in particular.” His lip curls up slightly. “I sold so much of it, the traders passed the name on to me.”
His father considers it for a moment, made obvious by the chewing on his lip. “If I may, what was your name before?”
He hasn’t spoken the name in years- since he lived on the Steppe. “Yalmar.” He answers after a moment. His lips turn up in a bitter smile. “They had to get creative, I suppose. Son’s inherit the ending of their fathers name, but even as a baby, they wanted to make sure I knew my worth.” He snorts with a shake of his head. “It means burden.”
Edmont’s jaw sets, hand squeezing his own. “Fools.” He gripes lowly. “To not have realized the precious gift they had been given when they were blessed with you.”
He has no say in the blush that climbs his face at his father’s kind words. “I don’t know about that…” He tries to deny, but Edmont has none of it.
“I do.” He says seriously. “I adopted you. I know your worth and the blessing I was given when Haurchefant brought you to the manor. I knew it far earlier than I had gathered the courage to tell you. Do not place your worth in the hands of people who never deserved you.”
If he had ears, he’s certain they’d be bright red- so unaccustomed to the praise his family is prone to spewing. Sage bites his cheek. “It’s hard.” He admits softly, looking down to his hands. “I just feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop- for you to realize that I’m not a good man, and get rid of me.”
“I’m never going to ‘get rid of you’.” Edmont disagrees. “I adopted you because I love you- because your brothers love you, because we choose you.”
Sage’s jaw sets. “But would you if you knew all the awful things I’ve done? I’m not the good man you think I am. I’ve done horrible things. People have died because of me. Haurchefant died because of me.”
“He died because of the man who threw that spear.” Edmont says firmly. “He died for his country, his beliefs, and his love for you. He believed in you even in the face of the worlds disbelief-”
“-he was wrong.” Sage rasps.
Edmont sits back in the chair, frowning deeply- but it’s obvious he remains unconvinced. His knee still touches his own.“Tell me then, all the horrible things you’ve done that make you unworthy of being seen as a good man.”
He lets go of his fathers hand and pulls away- all so Edmont can’t be the one to do so. He’s not sure if he can handle that. “I…I was angry. For a long time. At everything, and everyone.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I enlisted in the Malestrom when I was 15. Paid a man to pretend to be my father on the paperwork and give me his last name- and then I was off to war for the first time.”
He remembers the training, he remembers how it all went out the window the moment they had been faced with the enemy. “I wasn’t kind. I wasn’t merciful. I killed people that I could have spared- should have even.” He winces, dragging his hand down his face tiredly. “But I was angry- why should they get to live? What mercy had the world shown me when I had begged my father to stop? To spare me? All I’d ever gotten was another hit- another punishment.” He’s getting angry again, he can hear it in the strain in his voice. In the feeling of his skin being too tight. He manually has to take a deep breath, focus on anything but the anger. “So I killed them. Any solider who came across my way was killed. And I was like that the entire time- up until Dalamuld fell on us.” his gaze flicks up, gauging his fathers reaction. There’s nothing to gauge how Edmont feels. His expression is the same as before.“You’re still angry.” Edmont notes quietly.
He hates to admit to- to own up to the rage that sometimes feels like it will consume him. “Yes.” He admits soft as a gust of wind. “I’m always angry.”
His father nods, then says.“You should be angry for how you were treated. Being angry means you know you didn’t deserve it.”
“Neither did the soldiers I killed.”
At that, his father sighs. “They were soldiers, son. Not civilians. They were there to fight and die, just like you- but unlike you, they were not children. Grown men and women stronger than you, who would have killed you without a second thought. Aye, you could have spared them- but then mayhap they would have gone on to kill someone else. It wasn’t necessarily the kindest thing you could’ve done, but it certainly isn’t the worst.” He nudges him with his foot. “Did you really think that I’d stop caring about you because of this?”
His throat is dry at his father’s acceptance. Did he really? No, Edmont has always been too kind. “Don’t you think you should?”
“Not particularly.” Edmont says far too easily, but then sighs. “You were a child, Sage. I’m not going to sit here and judge you for not knowing how to work through the trauma you went through as a boy- because you were still a boy- one that had been abused, abandoned and left for dead.” His jaw clenches. “You aren’t a bad person, son. You were an angry child, with good reason. To be candid- I can only find it in me to be glad that you survived.”
He shakes his head in disbelief and a flicker of frustration that Edmont still doesn’t understand that he isn’t a good man. “I stole from people- good people.” He tacks on, a bit of desperation slipping in his tone.
Edmont doesn’t falter- he seems to be waiting for something, rather patiently. His voice is still calm as he answers: “Food and coin, I imagine, to stay alive. It’s not your fault that you were forced into a situation that demanded such extremes.”
He chokes on his words. “I’m a coward. Self serving. I hate helping people.”
“You hate feeling obligated to help people.” Edmont corrects knowingly. “The same reason you hate being hailed as a hero. Because it has turned into a burden and expectation, instead of an act of kindness from the heart. And well, coward, I’m not sure where you got that from. All you’ve ever been is brave.”
“no.” Sage disagrees harshly. “I didn’t join the Grand Company out of duty, I joined for their promise of food, clothes, shelter and coin. Bravery wasn’t one.”
“Brave it was to stand under Dalamuld and fight even as it fell to your feet.” Edmont argues primly. “There was no reward for you to keep fighting- you could have ran, and made it out fine. But you stayed, and fought, and would have died if the twin’s grandfather hadn’t been there to save you.” His father leans forward, blue eyes sharp. “Brave, it was to try and live after what happened to you- brave you have been fighting along side the Scion’s. Brave again during every deed and trial you have faced since.” His eyes soften just a bit. “Brave to tell me what happened to you.”
Sage holds himself close, his words are soft, scared to be spoken. “…I-I’m not telling you this to be brave.” He says finally. “I need help.”
His fathers head tilts, eyes squinting a bit, confused and concerned both. “Of what sort?”
Sage feels the letter in his pocket, even without reaching for it. With a shaking hand, he takes out the beige letter, it’s sealed with a blank black stamp. Yalmar is written on the front. “It came in the mail a few days ago. I-I can’t-”
His father is quick to soothe. “It’s alright, Sage.” He gestures to the letter. “May I?”
Sage gives a jerky nod, smoothes out the wrinkles a bit and does hold it out to him.
Edmont takes it carefully, reading the front before turning the letter over in his hands. Without looking away he leans forward to grab the letter opener on his desk and defly breaks the seal. He unfolds the trifolded letter slowly.. From the light, he can sort of see the handwriting through the paper. It goes about three quarters of the way down.
He already knows who it’s from- only one person is alive who would still know him by that name. Well. Two, if his mother is still alive, but she wouldn’t have cared enough to try and find him- in all probability, she honestly may have forgotten he ever existed.
Sage can’t help the anxious bounce of his knee as he watches him read the letter. He’s rather sure Edmont reads it twice, if the movement in his gaze is anything to go buy. “Da?” He croaks and clears his throat. “What does it say?”
He doesn’t respond at first-maybe collecting his thoughts, but he does set the letter down on the edge desk. His response is not an answer to the question. “Sage.” He says gently. “Will you let me handle this for you?”
He tries to swallow the lump in his throat; it doesn’t work. “What does it say?”
Edmont doesn’t seem to keen to lie to him, even though his dismay is obvious. He leans forward once more, and lays a hand on his knee again. “Aiatar wants to meet with you.”
His breath catches- his body freezes- unsure if even his heart is beating at this point. The ringing in his horns takes over. He can’t hear anything outside of it. Even his vision swims, blurring the reds and browns of his father’s office.
He was right. It’s Aiatar. And he knows where he lives- knows who is family to him. If he doesn’t go, he’d be putting them all in danger. Because of him. Because he’s still terrified of his sire.
He’ll have to go.
He’s going to see Aiatar again.
Aiatar will hurt him again.
Something warm holds his face and his vision blurs as his head is turned. Sage blinks rapidly until the sight of his father’s concerned face in his starts to clear. It’s his hands- he realizes distantly, Edmont is holding his face.
He can see his lips move, but the sound doesn’t process, at least not until he tries to focus.
“-e, Sage.” His father calls out for him. “You need to breathe.”
Oh.
Now that he thinks about it- his chest aches. Sharp pains running through his torso.
But he can’t- he can’t make himself breathe. He- he can’t- a wild hand fumbles and latches onto his fathers shirt.
“I’m here.” Edmont promises, panic starting to reveal itself to Sage through his voice. “But you have to breathe. Now, Sage. Take a breath.”
A ragged gasp tears itself from his throat. It hurts almost as bad as his chest.
“Just like that.” His father tells him. “Again. Small breaths, son.” One hand lets go of his cheek to rest on the one gripping his father’s shirt. “Match mine.”
It goes like that for a while, until Sage’s breaths matches his fathers- who is breathing deeper than normal and his heart beats a far slower rhythm, even then, he remains clinging to his father with one hand.
“I’ve got you.” Edmont promises softly, guiding him into a hug, loose enough that Sage can pull away if he wants, but offering comfort all the same.
He slumps into it, letting himself have this moment of weakness. A warm weight settles on his head- from this angle, he assumes it’s his father’s chin.
“You’re going to be alright.” Is the whispered assurance he’s told. “I’m going to take care of this for you. You are safe from him, I promise, son.”
He shakes his head against his chest. “He’ll come for me.” He rasps. “He’ll hurt all of you because of me.”
Fingers comb through his hair. “No one is going to be hurt- I swear to you. He can not get into Ishgard, and he certainly can not get into this Manor. You and your brothers are safe. He’ll not get the chance to lay a hand of any of you.” Edmont’s voice is firm- reassuring- protectiveness seeps in his tone. It’s little wonder why- he knows his father couldn’t bear loosing another son.
Sage stays quiet for a long moment, just listening to his heart beat and breathing in his father. “What are you going to do?” He murmurs finally.
Edmont’s grip tightens. “Let me worry about that, okay? Just know there is naught I won’t do to keep you safe.”
He wants to argue, wants to know, but he’s exhausted. And he trusts him. “…okay.” He finally agrees.
The relief in his fathers tone is palpable. “Thank you.” The elder pulls away slightly, and Sage looks up to meet his gaze. “How do you feel?”
“Like shit.” He admits, not even bothering to try and phrase it politely- it’s rare for him to fail to. He’s well aware of the class difference of how he grew up and the tall demands of Ishgardian society.
Edmont doesn’t correct him, in fairness, he never has. “Then lets get you to bed, I’ll have you summoned when lunch is ready, if you feel up to it. If not, you are more than permitted to take it in your chambers.” He waits for a moment before taking on: “And do not be afraid to summon me, if needed.”
He nods into his chest before slowly pulling away, he ducks his gaze, and if he had the energy, he’s sure he’d be blushing in shame. “Yes, father.” He murmurs.
Edmont squeezes his shoulder. “I mean it. I’m only a moment away.”
He takes a slightly shaky breath and nods again, though this time he does chance a look up. He’s met with the patient gaze of his father, who still looks concerned, but has pushed it to the side. “Thank you.” He says finally, but he’s waved off.
“Taking care of you is in the job description, my boy.” The corner of his eyes wrinkle. “I’m only glad you trusted me enough to seek me out.”Sage gives him a small shrug. “You’ve always tried to protect me- even from things I can handle. Even from myself. I knew you’d help me.”“Always.” He promises with a small smile. “Now, go rest- if you fall asleep in that chair your back will never forgive you for it; I know first hand.”
He huffs a small, surprised laugh. “That’s because you and Artoirel both work too hard.”
“I used to.” Edmont agrees, lips ticking upward. “Your brother, however, still has quite sometime of working too hard ahead of him.”
“Better him than me.” Sage grumbles, rising from his chair. “I don’t have the patience for all he puts up with.”
It gets a laugh out of his father. “Believe me, I know.”