#also haurchefant doesn’t have a romantically jealous bone in his body

[dainesanddaffodils]

FFXIV WRITE 2024 DAY 19: TAKEN

Heavensward AU where everything is the same but there’s a ball scene before shit hits the fan | HW | Rated G | 750 words

(I’m very self-indulgent today; this is also not actually canon for my girl as you can see from the summary of the fic lmao)

The High Houses are nothing if not vain, always eager for the first excuse to show off and show up one another. So House Fortemps hosting a ball in order to celebrate their ward’s defeat of Nidhogg and halting of the imminent Dravanian siege does not appear like anything other than that vanity on display. No reason to look deeper. Or notice when Ser Aymeric leaves early.

It’s a bit convoluted when it comes to ensuring Ishgard’s nobility - and their guards - are looking elsewhere when the Lord Commander goes to confront his father; it’s hardly as though the Heavens’ Ward won’t still be guarding the Archbishop. Still, Aymeric had insisted, adding that, if nothing else, should things go as bad as they undoubtedly would, House Fortemps could appear unaware of the plot.

Estinien is aware of all the reasoning his stubborn and idealistic friend has given, and believes… well at least believes that Aymeric believes his own words. But as he stands in a corner of the ballroom, still fully armored with his arms crossed, he does wonder if he’d had a more selfish motivation.

The Warrior of Light looks especially diminutive, twirled under the Lord Commander’s arm in the center of the room. Estinien almost hadn’t recognized her at first. She was dressed like any other highborn lady, including an elaborate headdress that covered her short cropped hair and obscured her horns. Only her height and her tail initially gave her away, as he expects had been the case for most present who only knew the Warrior of Light by name and gossip. Aymeric had waited, seemingly until everyone became aware of her presence, before he had approached her for a dance.

Now they are not the only ones dancing but it’s clear they are commanding everyone’s attention in a way someone of his standing and her reputation together would. That’s the idea; the image everyone will remember of the night. No one will notice him duck out the door as soon as the song is over.

“Quite the sight, aren’t they?” An affable voice says beside him. Estinien stiffens, startled less by the voice than by the realization that he had been staring just as every other person present was.

The voice belongs to Lord Haurchefant. Like Estinien he is there to keep an eye on events and ensure they transpire apace. Unlike Estinien, Haurchefant hadn’t needed to convince the others to let that be his role - rather than take center stage alongside the Warrior of Light.

(“You bested Nidhogg together, it would make sense that this event is celebrating you both,” Aymeric had pointed out.

“The fact that I will be there at all will seem out of character and you know it. The point is not to appear suspicious.”)

Meanwhile, pretense or no, it was clear Haurchefant would always be viewed as a knight of House Fortemps rather than a son.

Estinien gives a nod, more as a greeting than response, and looks back at his friend - or friends, as surely that is what Cimorene is now. The dance calls for a lift and he watches Aymeric stoop to grab her waist and pick her up for a beat, then down again.

He had done that, a moon ago. Well, he had thrown her, in order to assist her with learning dragoon dives. But the movement had been the same. It feels strange to watch someone else do it.

“You ought to take the next dance.”

The words again shake Estinien from his thoughts. Then they fully sink in and he frowns. It hits him that he is possibly the only other person in the room that knows Cimorene is Haurchefant’s fiancée.

“Why?”

The knight smiles, seemingly unbothered by thought his love in the arms of another man - for the second time. “It would certainly keep everyone’s attention, and allow Aymeric to leave unimpeded.”

It’s a logical argument but Estinien shakes his head. “I cannot,” he says flatly. “Anymore than you can.”

He means that they are both serving the same purpose at this ball, that they’re both armored and observers and outsiders to the opulence surrounding them. That’s all.

Still, a brief look of surprise crosses Haurchefant’s face - gone before Estinien can possibly guess what it is in reaction to. Then the smile is back and he turns his eyes back to the ballroom at large.

“Of course,” is all he says.

Silence falls over the two men as they watch the dance play out.