Chapter Text
Thancred was hopeful that Eorzea could hold off her next primal disaster long enough for the wheeze to leave Canto's lungs - at least for the two days they planned to stay to recover at the Teoh’s. That first night he learned much about Canto’s extended family, encouraged by the information they’d already shared to continue asking questions. For good reason, Canto had kept his family private. The less anyone knew of the Teoh’s, the less danger they’d be in. Thancred understood that decision considering the threats Canto faced. Though secret was another matter entirely, and the Scion spymaster struggled with how he’d managed to miss such a crucial part of Canto’s life.
The warrior of light hadn’t offered any details either.
Based on their Keeper lineage, Teoh was Nemi's, Mhiri's and V'nhika's family name, Thancred discovered. Mhiri knew some of her Keeper cousins in the area, but between the distance created upon Nemi first leaving her clan to settle in Ul'dah as a medical worker and V'kiani's Seeker characteristics made apparent in their son, their family had only minor interactions with the other Shroud Teoh's and families within the local clans. Zari'a's mother was Lanaali - a different clan - and his bonding with Nemi made it so he was both protected and relieved from the duties common among Keeper males.
The dynamic resulted in a family unit not unlike those of most hyurans.
Most, because Thancred himself had never known his birth family to know similar. But he'd seen it, cultivated his own version of it in the Scions and in certain Leveilleurs.The Teoh's were… they felt comfortable. Loving and welcoming. Content with their family of four - soon to be five - and extended connections within the Keeper clans and with Canto - V’kiani’s last living relative. Thancred expected to see tension of some sort between Canto and Zari’a for the latter essentially stepping into the role that should have been V’kiani’s, but he witnessed only appreciation and warmth between them.
In Canto’s love for the children, they knew a piece of their birth father’s heart, and Nemi and Zari’a both encouraged that truth.
It was so different to Thancred’s experience after the death of Louisoix, the grief too much to bear for any of the Scions to really talk about it. Surprising too, to see Canto speak so candidly about his brother, considering Thancred had only learned about him bells ago. Instead of sharing the latest story of his adventures as warrior of light, Canto told Mhiri and V’nhika of the time V’kiani had fallen while chocobo racing against their Flame Captain, and of how he’d once saved the life of one of their comrades, an Elezen from Ishgard who wasn’t at all ready for the the Thanalan sun, by recognizing the early signs of heat exhaustion.
“We’re from the desert, you know,” Canto had reminded them.
That night, Thancred slept fitfully on the couch; though it was not out of discomfort - he'd slept so many days out on the road that cushions were a luxury. And, Canto needed the bed to relieve the pain in his back. But lack of familiarity to his surroundings and residual guilt to the day’s events kept Thancred’s brain active and unable to find true rest. He watched alert when Zari'a returned from his night shift a few hours beyond midnight, his footsteps tired as he padded lightly into the children's rooms, no doubt with a need to see them for himself before he retired for the night. Half a bell after Zari'a closed the door to the master bedroom, Thancred untangled himself from his blankets and quietly opened the guest room door. Leaning against the door jam, he listened to the silence, Canto's breaths even with sleep, then finally made his way back to the couch for a few hours of rest. His heart calmed with the knowledge that everyone was now in the home and safe, and he did not resist his eyes closing…closing…
Thancred awoke the next morning first to the sound of birds, a stark reminder that he was no longer in the gloom of Mor Dhona, and instead among Gridanian trees. His lashes fluttered heavily, and he ran his hand wearily through his hair to release the knots that formed overnight, as he remembered the previous day's events, warped with the version from his rest. First, the fear. Heart pounding and sudden. Then, the smell of blood and dank air. Thancred stretched to release the stiffness in his muscles and calmed himself with the reminder that he’d made it in time. Death had not found either one of them yet, despite his dreams telling him otherwise.
In the kitchen, everyone was awake. Zari’a, who was facing the entryway and was therefore the first to notice him, nodded at Thancred as he entered while Nemi offered him tea.
“Please,” he confirmed.
The caution Nemi had encouraged the previous night mattered little, as the twins were crowded around their uncle. Thancred came up behind them and placed his hand on Canto’s shoulder, leaning in to see what was keeping them so focused. He recognized his own writing on a spread of papers along the table - this time accompanied by toonish drawings of the creatures he’d outlined with an ‘x’ to mark where Canto included their weak spots. On a fresh sheet, Mhiri had taken inspiration from Canto’s artwork to create a monster of her own, her shaky lines detailing what looked like the walking form of a biloko with ninki nanka flesh down one arm, a morbol mouth along its torso, and tentacle vines jutting from various parts along its body.
I would not want to cross blades with that.
She cackled as she added spikes along the top of its head, and Thancred tore his gaze away - only after staring a few beats in fascination. Canto glanced over, pausing in the braids he'd started in V'nhika's hair to lean over to observe his niece's progress.
“What do you call that, darling?” Canto asked, biting his lip to keep from laughing while he resumed his braiding to avoid accidentally tugging V'nhika's hair.
“She's…hmmm… a Fluffbutton.”
“Terrifying,” Thancred said seriously.
Canto beamed up at him, inviting.“Come sit, T.
Like so many mornings at their headquarters (first at the Waking Sands, then the Rising Stones),Thancred squeezed Canto's shoulder slightly before sliding into an adjacent seat. A teacup materialized in front of him, the steam rising, and he thanked Nemi. He cupped his hands around the mug - his hands weren’t cold, but he let the heat sting all the same before the fire settled into his palms.
“These are hunter braids,” Canto was saying. He’d taken the time to add the kohl around his eyes this morning. Aesthetically not uncommon, but Thancred theorized Canto chose the look to distract from the dark circles Thancred knew were there. The warrior of light took a band that had been around his wrist and wrapped it a few times around V’nhika’s fine hair to keep the braid secure. “Your father was an excellent hunter, and would often lead our parties.”
“Did you wear them too, Zuye?”
“What are yours?”
“Oh.” Canto reached up to his own woven strands that framed his face, the beads clinking together as he tugged at them. He turned to Mhiri, his face pale. “I’ve seen variations of these all over Eorzea, but when I was part of the V tribe, they were archer braids. The beads, though, are in memoriam.”
V’nhika repeated the word slowly, testing it, confused. Mem-or-i-am. He started to reach towards the beads, drawn by the sound, and Canto flinched. Thancred watched as his friends’ expression deflated, frowning behind his teacup.
“Here, baby.” Nemi swung her arms open to her son. “Oh! You look beautiful. Zuye is so good at those.”
“Up up, Nhika,” Canto agreed, kissing the top of the boy's head, and tapping his back lightly. “Mr. Thancred wants to speak with me, anyway, and I have some papers to deliver.”
Thancred took that for the cue it was, shuffling the Issom-Har report into a respectable stack of notes. Canto sprung up from the table with far more enthusiasm that he should have, beckoning towards Thancred to follow. While the kids were distracted with their parents, Canto caught their eyes and muttered a sincere Sorry, as they departed the room, the air suddenly heavy with the children’s innocence despite the sorrow apparent in the adults.
Outside, Canto closed the door behind Thancred, then leaned forward the wood, his forehead pressed against the closed entryway and eyes closed. His breath shuddered, “Walk with me?”
“Of course.” As if there was any doubt.
Thancred walked with his hand on the hilt of his knife; Canto had his blades at his sides per usual, but Thancred did not think he’d be able to react quickly to any threats as distracted he was with his nervous habit of playing with the beads in his hair. It was ok - if there were any ambushes, Thancred would take care of it. The least he could do was allow Canto the time to think, safely.
“So, that home is everything dear to me. And you know of them now,” he started. “I think… I think I am happy that you know. It’s a little bit of a relief.” Thancred hummed for him to continue. “For so long I tried to keep them out of all this. They struggle already, the last thing I want is to bring them more pain. Thancred, now that you know - if something were to happen to me…”
“I will make sure they are taken care of,” he assured. He loathed thinking about it, but no good would come from assuming their champion was invincible. The ask was practical, and it clearly meant a lot to the Warrior of Light to hear it said. “You take care of them now?”
“Some, yes. Nemi puts the gil up for the kids, I think.” He nudged up against Thancred’s side, poking an elbow into ribs. “For whatever they want, clothes, music, education. Maybe they’ll attend the Sharlayan Studium one day.”
“You are good with them. I am not… with kids.”
“You do fine. Alphinaud and Alisaie turned out all right, did they not?”
“Debatable,” he said, his grin advertising that he was not at all serious about it. The twins were prodigies, though; their path was always their own, and if anyone could lay claim to setting that path in motion, it would’ve been Louisoix.
“Kids are easy. Get on their level, be yourself, and you’ll be best friends within a day. At this age, they are practically made of trust and love. And they like you. V’nhika can just be a little shy. Also, sorry about all that." Thancred shook his head. Canto need not apologize. "I’m trying. The kids want so much to know their heritage, and I hate that I can’t give it to them the way V’Kiani could.”
Canto’s expression said it should’ve been him.
How much of this is you, Canto? Thancred wondered. How much is who you think V’Kiani would have been? As a father, as a soldier, maybe even, if it wasn’t too far for Thancred to speculate, as a Warrior of Light. They’d been forgotten after Carteneau, their names lost to memory. Canto’s achievements had been taken half in his brother’s name, he spoke to his children of their father’s deeds and not his own - was it too far to acknowledge that Canto seemed to feel it was his brother, and not him, who should’ve been destined to become the famed chosen of Hydaelyn?
How blind Thancred felt, the realization coming together under the weight he knew their champion bore. Canto would never find fulfillment in his own deeds with the way he hinged his self-worth on the what if? of his brother’s fate. If he felt the good he was doing for Eorzea, accepting Minfilia’s offer to join the Scions… all of it… was in apology for surviving.
Thancred blinked, hoping he was wrong. Knowing his instinct was usually right about these sorts of things, and hating it.
He couldn’t speak any of it. Not now.
Their feet took them around Buscarron’s establishment and the small, surrounding settlement Before they realized it, they’d returned to the ruins of Issom-Har, and a small party of Wood Wailers at the surface accepted their report.
As they walked past their camp and stopped along a distant ridge, Canto stared hard into the path that led downward. “You followed me yesterday.”
“Aye. That I did.”
“How did you know? I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I thought I was alone.”
Thancred tapped his ear. “I presume you were on your linkpearl. I saw you say Quarrymill. You seemed - not okay.” He pressed his lips together. “Do you want to tell me now what’s going on?”
Canto sucked in a breath, recoiling like he’d been struck. “I -”
“Yes?” Thancred prodded, but Canto shook his head, unable to find the words to fill the silence, his shoulders shaking. “Nevermind. It’s my job to deduce these things. I don’t need the details unless you want to tell them to me. And you can, if you want. I’ll be here.”
You’re holding onto too many secrets, living a life you don’t think you deserve. You’ve lost so many people. You’re heartbroken. “But you are hurting,” Thancred said, stepping forward into his space, and resting his hand on the top of Canto’s bowed head. “I can tell that much, kid. Right now, here, are you ok?”
“Not really. No.” The answer shook. Canto’s expression crumbled. “Thancred.”
Hearing the break in his voice, Thancred ruffled Canto’s hair and swung his arm around the back of his shoulders in a half hug to let Canto know he could take whatever comfort he needed from his friend. Canto’s arms snaked around his torso, his face sunk into his chest, and for the moments while he acknowledged his grief, Thancred kept him protected from the outside world. “Good. Just let yourself feel safely this time, yeah? I hope my hugs are at least better than morbols.”
There it was, a little wet laugh muffled by his shirt. “Much better than morbols.” He sniffled. “I was going to bring him home, you know? G’raha.”
Thancred squeezed him tight. “I know.” I’m sorry it had to be me.
“I’m glad it could be you,” Canto mumbled, as if he’d read his mind. “You remind me of him sometimes. V’kiani.”
Thancred would not take any of it for granted. He thought of the way Canto smiled with his niece and nephew, of the love in their home, the protective spark Nemi had shown him, the support he had in Zari’a, and he was glad he’d been trusted with them all the same. Canto’s family.