#At his core what is Art but a sopping wet cat

[ofdragonsdeep]

19: Taken

To submit to.

Upon his arrival on the First, Ar'telan seeks out Haurchefant.

(M rated, but nothing explicit in here because I am a coward)

So far, the First had been overwhelming.

His arrival had not been neat. Opening his eyes in the middle of a lilac forest, almost being arrested for talking strangely, only plucked from the jaws of uncertainty by the same man who had stolen his friends.

The explanations had not been good. The 'Crystal Exarch', as they called him here, was evasive at best. He had explained what had went wrong with his process, that he had only intended to pull Ar'telan himself over, and it had not been terribly convincing. Ar'telan's frown had only deepened as he listened, all the unsaid things feeling loud in his head. What did it mean that they were soul without body? They had, apparently, reconstituted themselves aetherically upon arriving in the First, but that was not healthy. How did they get home? What was he even here for?

He had tried to take it all in, truly he had. But the Crystal Tower sat tall on the skyline, piercing the blanched white horizon, and all he could feel was worry.

No G'raha. No answers. Just the looming threat of Allag's hubris, and the bastion they had built around it.

He had finished his impromptu tour of the Crystarium at the door to the Tower, as instructed, and spent several minutes simply staring up at the crystal.

"Ah, sir?" the gate guard said, clearing his throat to try and get Ar'telan's attention. "I believe the Exarch awaits you in the Ocular." Ar'telan blinked, shaking his head to clear the haze from it.

"Right. Sorry. Where do I go?" he asked.

"Follow me inside," the guard said. "I'll show you on the map."

---

Ar'telan hated the Crystal Tower.

Even at rest, it hummed. The sound of it taking in the light grated on his ears, though thankfully on the First there was no Dalamud for it to connect to. Walking up the steps brought to mind his first foray into the building, at the head of the largest contingent of adventurers he had ever lead, having to put down… clones. Allagans, not all of them willing. The way Scylla's hounds had wailed in agony would never leave his mind.

To see it domesticated was… strange. Uncomfortable. Even at the height of the Empire, it had been a seat of power. It had never protected anything. It was not built to protect. It was built to take, like everything else Allag had made.

The Ocular was a small room, the floor a polished, deep blue. Opposite the door there stood a blank mirror, a simple crystal lamp lighting the room from above. When he entered, the Exarch was staring at the mirror, though no face looked back.

"Ah, you've arrived." He turned, fingers tightening around the staff he carried. "How did you find the Crystarium?"

"Overwhelming," Ar'telan replied. He did not owe this man kindness. He did not owe him anything except perhaps a punch in the nose. "I hate this Tower and everything it represents." He saw the Exarch flinch at that.

"Understandable," he replied. That was a surprise. What had he seen of Ar'telan, that it made sense to hate what everyone in the Crystarium clearly saw as a boon? "I will not ask you to stay overlong. No doubt you are eager to reunite with your companions, after all." Ar'telan scowled.

"Where are they?" he demanded. The Exarch took a long breath.

"They are… in various places," he replied. "Though time flows in relative pace between here and the Source now, when they first came here… that was not the case." Ar'telan felt the cold grip him. Thought about Thancred, taken first, expecting nothing, waiting for however long. About Y'shtola, who had promised him she would be there for him, ripped away so soon after. He did not want to get angry. Being angry accomplished nothing, especially now he was actually here. But he felt it, and fought the urge to curl his fingers into a fist. "Thancred is rather difficult to pin down, as you might imagine. Y'shtola is in the forest of Rak'tika, working with the Night's Blessed. Urianger currently resides in Il Mheg." The tone of voice as he said the last sentence implied that was not a particularly sensible thing to do, but Ar'telan had never known Urianger to be all that sensible, despite the fronts he put up. "The twins have been here but a relatively short time - a little under a year. At this moment, Alphinaud is in Kholusia, and Alisaie is in Ahm Araeng. I thought they might be your first-"

"Haurchefant," Ar'telan said. It was not a question.

"Ser Haurchefant has remained in the Crystarium since his arrival three years ago," the Exarch replied. "I had thought-"

"Where."

Ar'telan understood, beneath the layers of mounting resentment, that the Exarch faced a deadly threat. The Sin Eaters were ever-present, as the Light that hung in the sky confirmed. They had faced this ever since Arbert and his friends had returned… No, before then, even. The Flood had been why they had gone to the Source to begin with, and only Minfilia had stopped it. But the Light hadn't gone. The decline was visible even in the short time he had been here. Of course they would be in a hurry.

But it was his friends. And if he had spent those few weeks in terror, they had been here for years…

"He is part of the Crystarium Guard," the Exarch replied. "No doubt he is on duty as we speak. I can arrange-"

"The guard?" Ar'telan repeated, confused. "But-"

"His injuries, yes. Well… I shall send for him, and he can explain."

---

Ar'telan did not like waiting.

He did not like waiting when the Exarch stood across from him, still as the crystal that crept across his flesh. He did not like that the man smelled more of Allagan rock than a person. He did not like that his voice lingered on the very edge of familiar, but he couldn't place it.

He did not like uncertainty.

He refused to pace in front of the Exarch, so he instead leant against the wall of the Ocular, ears twitching constantly in irritation as he fought the urge to fidget. Gritting his teeth as he waited. Itching to move.

The door was flung open with far more strength than Ar'telan had put in, all but slamming into the wall at the end of its journey. Through it, clearly having sprinted up stairs in full armour, stood - Haurchefant.

Stood?

"Ar'telan!" he exclaimed, and all but teleported across the room to pull Ar'telan into a hug so tight he could barely breathe. "So many moons has it been, I feared I might forget the sight of your face."

Ar'telan squeaked, tapping one hand against the armour in a valiant effort to beg for release. The Exarch, unfortunately witness to this display, hid a chuckle behind his hand.

"Ah, forgive me, forgive me," Haurchefant managed, loosening his grip enough that Ar'telan could feel his feet touch the floor again. He felt a little dizzy. "It has been so long…"

"How?" Ar'telan managed, before shaking his hands to get the feeling back into them. "I had thought…"

"I shall explain in due time," Haurchefant said, one finger running under Ar'telan's chin to tilt up his head. "There is a great deal to explain, in fact, but it can wait."

The kiss was not expected, not from Haurchefant, but there was a longing in it that Ar'telan hadn't felt since the early days of their relationship. Since their time together had been so short, so secret, hastily carved from the small hours of the night. When he had been more uncertain, and Haurchefant afraid of the eyes that could have lingered upon them…

The Exarch cleared his throat.

It did not concern Haurchefant, but Ar'telan all but pushed him back, not willing to embarrass himself any more in front of the mysterious man.

"Far be it for me to interrupt your reunion," the Exarch remarked, "but there are certainly better venues for it than the walls of the Ocular, I imagine."

"I am sure there is paperwork you can busy yourself with," Haurchefant disagreed, and Ar'telan stared at the floor so the Exarch would not see the heat in his face.

"Not here," Ar'telan said, and Haurchefant relented. "Exarch. I will hear your plans at a later-"

"You may return tomorrow," the Exarch said, saving him the indignity of admitting the plans Haurchefant had clearly made for the two of them already. "A room has been reserved for you in the Pendants. I am sure Ser Haurchefant will escort you there himself."

"Thank you," Ar'telan said. He still felt a little sour on the entire ordeal, not to mention the fact that this situation had been created at all, but he would rise above it for the sake of the evening.

---

The man on the desk at the Pendants was only halfway through his greeting when Haurchefant gave Ar'telan's name and swiped the keys out of the man's hand. It was a nice enough little building - Ar'telan caught a glimpse of a water feature, and the spiralling red-brick walls were a pleasant change from the horrible crystal blue of the rest of the city.

But he did not get much of a look.

Haurchefant was like a man possessed, at times. No sooner had the door been closed than Ar'telan found himself pushed up against it, this time no audience as Haurchefant kissed him hungrily. Three years - had he known how short the time was for Ar'telan? How terrified the rest of them had been, watching the Scions fall one by one with no clear source? Had he imagined the fear in his father's eyes, seeing that graven stillness on him once more?

Over and over again it had played in Ar'telan's head. The Vault. The months of vigil over a still bedside, Haurchefant barely breathing. The new normal they had built over the shaky ground, all the things he couldn't do in the wake of it. The shame Ar'telan had felt, at after everything had done, it had still felt so imperfect. Every stumble, every concession, every grimace of pain.

Here he walked, and when they fixed this - and they would fix this - he would wake up once more unable, and it felt so cruel.

But the thoughts were fleeting, snatched between breaths as his fingers tightened in Haurchefant's hair. The fear of losing him, after everything - Haurchefant's desperate need to live in the aftermath, with him - it was assauged in every kiss, Ar'telan's sharp canines drawing blood to the surface of Haurchefant's lips. An assurance that they both were there, though only one of them truly whole, in Ar'telan's tail wrapping around Haurchefant's leg, in the distance closed between them.

Just for a moment, it would be enough.

---

The bed was comfortable.

They had lain together for several minutes before Ar'telan had recovered enough of his senses to appreciate it, Haurchefant with his eyes closed and a smile across his face. He was not sleeping - after the war, they had been able to spend so many nights together that Ar'telan could recognise it now. A gift he had never expected to receive.

A soft touch on his arm, and Haurchefant opened his eyes, and turned his gaze to Ar'telan.

"An explanation," Ar'telan signed, a request rather than a demand. Haurchefant exhaled.

"I do not understand the specifics of it, I will admit," he said. "As I understand it, the vast majority of the damage was to my corporeal aether. But the spell, it grasped my soul alone."

"Would they not mirror?" Ar'telan asked. Haurchefant shrugged at that, muscles rippling at the motion.

"They do after a fashion. The pain has not faded," he replied. "Similarly, lady Y'shtola cannot see, or so she said." He pushed the covers down, and Ar'telan's hand ghosted over the ugly scar. The jagged, pitted skin suggested a fatal wound, and it should have been, if he hadn't been so reckless. If he had listened to what the Echo had been trying to tell him. But he was stubborn. "I do have to be careful," Haurchefant added. "I cannot be on my feet for long, but it is longer than my physical body affords me. A small boon that I will take, for this community needs the help."

"And you're happy to do that? To help them?" Ar'telan asked. Haurchefant blinked in surprise at the question.

"A knight's calling is to help those in need," he replied. "Did the Exarch explain the situation to you?" Ar'telan grimaced.

"A little," he said. "I know that the Sin Eaters are… a problem. That he was trying to call me here to fix it." There was a brief moment of discontent on Haurchefant's face at the final sentence, though it did not linger. It was not a comforting expression. It did not suit him.

"I suspect he will explain the rest once the Scions have returned to the Crystarium, then," he said. "Or perhaps a little earlier, since some of them will be… troublesome to locate." He sighed. "It is complicated, and I will help in whatever way I can. I do not blame the Exarch for his actions… But that does not mean I did not miss you dearly, my love."

"Would that I could return home and tell those on the Source that all is…" He paused, considering his words. "Stable. Fixable." Haurchefant chuckled at that.

"Well, it will be easier for you than it is for us, if I understand correctly," he replied, before wincing in pain and shifting his position slightly. "…Once more I am tasked with not overexerting myself."

"I will remind you," Ar'telan promised, and once he had finished signing the words, Haurchefant took his hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

"I would expect no less of you, my dear," he said.

He had missed him so dearly. He had feared for him so completely.

He would not lose him again.