#also i am unlikely to get baelsar's wall done tonight before the maintenance because i spent too much time on this

[myreia]

2. “Go rest.  I’ll take care of it.” for aur and aymeric? :O?

A Question of Desire

Rating: M (for some sensuality, nothing explicit) Characters: Aureia Malathar, Aymeric de Borel, Lucia Junius Pairings: Aurmeric Words: 1791 Notes: Set the night before Baelsar's Wall (don't spoil me, I haven't done the dungeon yet). This is still fairly early on in their relationship, but we are ignoring the Aymurcrilda drama for now. Prompt: Prompt #2 - “Go rest.  I’ll take care of it.”

Twilight has come to Gridania, casting a purplish-grey hue across the forest city. The first stars peak through a break in the trees, twinkling quietly. Lanterns flare to life one by one, illuminating the maze of walkways and bridges, guiding folk home. The city hums with life and laughter, its citizens going about their lives as they always do, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing on their doorstep.

For one more night they can continue as they are. For one more night they may know peace.

Aureia watches it unfold from her position on one of the Carline Canopy’s upper floors. It has become her safe haven for the night, a place away from the endless barrage of questions and concerns. Though she had wanted to deploy for Baelsar’s Wall immediately with Thancred and Yugiri, practicality won out in the end. She has been pushing herself too hard and brazenly as of late. Though tonics keep the fog of exhaustion at bay, even she has her limits. Her mind is sluggish, her reaction time poor, her focus jumbled. A year or so ago, she would have pushed through, but now…

Now she knows better.

“Lucia said I would find you here.”

She smiles at the familiar voice and cranes her neck, looking over her shoulder. Aymeric stands in the threshold, still in uniform. His piercing blue eyes soften as he lingers on her face, observing her with quiet affection. Warmth floods her, flushing across her cheeks. She’s still not used to how quickly he changes from the grave, relentless commander to a man shamelessly and hopelessly in love with her. He has never told her has much, but she doesn’t need him to. No matter how far apart their duties take them, the joy he feels when he sees her again is palpable.

He cannot hide it. It is not in his nature.

“Habit,” she replies as he approaches her. “Always need to get the lay of the land. It helps me think.”

He draws up beside her and looks outwards, his gaze sweeping the path to the aetheryte plaza. “I can understand something of that, I think. But I must admit, stepping foot here…” He pauses and inhales a deep breath, catching her eye. “Aureia, may I admit something that is at once terribly foolish and terribly self-serving?”

A gentle breeze rustles her hair, blowing it about her face. “You?” she replies, raising an eyebrow. “Self-serving? Now, this I have to hear.”  

“I am envious of you.”

“…me?”

“The places you have gone, the people you have witnessed… You are a wanderer at heart, travelling the breadth of Eorzea, touching the lives of those you meet in ways large and small. Ishgard’s isolation has served not only to divide Eorzea from Ishgard, but Ishgard from the world. There are many great wonders beyond our borders, and perhaps our lives are made worse without them. Would that I could join you someday.”  

Her smile fades and she exhales softly, looping her hands together. “It’s not self-serving to wish to travel,” she says firmly. “You’re allowed to want things for yourself.”

“Perhaps. But not now. Not with so many things left uncertain—”

“Ser Aymeric?”

The reaction is instantaneous. Together, they turn as one and to find Lucia in the entranceway. The knight observes them quietly and cocks her head, her gaze passing from one to the other.

“What is it?” he asks.

Lucia straightens, quickly falling into a respectful stance. “Your counterpart in the House of Commons has duly requested a formal update regarding our involvement in the Alliance’s venture,” she announces. The annoyance in her tone is palpable. Aureia does not doubt that if she had any other choice, she would have chosen not to deliver this message.  

He closes his eyes and passes a hand across his face. “Now? Very well, I will—”

Aureia puts a hand on his shoulder. “Surely this is something you can trust to Lucia,” she says. “She is your second-in-command, she speaks with your voice. Surely you trust her to do so, no?”

In the dim lantern light, she can swear she sees Lucia smile.

Aymeric flounders. “Of course I trust her,” he says. “But—”

“Very good, ser,” Lucia interrupts. “I will draft a response on your behalf. And, if it is not too bold of me to say, ser, perhaps you should take the time to enjoy a night without paperwork for once. Allow me to take care of this.”

He sighs, shoulders slumping.

Lucia bows. “I will see to it that you’re not disturbed,” she adds, doing her best to hide a triumphant little grin. “Fury knows you need a break.”

“Me?” Aymeric says wearily. “Or her?”

“Both.”

Giving Aureia a pointed nod, Lucia disappears through the threshold and out of sight.

“By the Fury,” Aymeric mutters, turning back to the balustrade. “She shouldn’t—”

“She’s right,” Aureia interrupts. “You can’t do everything yourself. In fact, you shouldn’t. There comes a time when all leaders must delegate their duties. Besides, Ishgard isn’t going to break if you look away for a minute or two.”

“You say that, and yet…”

His words hang heavily in the air. After a year and a half of constant crises, it seems Ishgard can only manage stability in two week increments and only with Aymeric at the helm. Which, when she thinks about it too much, is distinctly unfair. He has given Ishgard too much of himself, and, as thanks, the nation turns around only to ask for more.

Aureia cranes her neck and shoots him a glare. “I am being serious,” she says. “Whatever you feel you owe to Ishgard, it doesn’t change the fact that you are still your own person. It’s not wrong for you to have time to yourself. It’s not wrong to have hopes and desires. You are no less honourable for that.”

Aymeric does not argue her point. Falling silent, he glances down—quite a distance, as the top of her head barely reaches his shoulders—and brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. Her breath catches in her throat, her heart aching at the touch. Though there is no reason to hide her heritage here, she keeps her hair down, her pointed ears covered, more out of habit than anything else. The gesture may be small, but it means more to her than words can say. She fled Ul’dah with pieces of herself chipped away. When she arrived in Ishgard, it was easier to hide the damage behind a wall of ice and stone.  

It is only recently that the wall has come down. She can’t return to her former self, but she can at least take comfort in who she is now.

“Give me some grace, Aureia,” he says teasingly, cupping her cheek. “I am new to this line of thinking, but I am trying.”

“All right, then,” she counters. “Give me a list.”

His eyes widen in shock. “A… list?”

“Three things you want for yourself—and no less than that.”

“…right now?”

“Right now.”

He trails his fingers to her chin, lifting it upwards. “I can think of one,” he murmurs, meeting her eyes.

Her heart flutters. She wraps an arm around him and leans in, reaching for the hand at his side. “Go on,” she says, threading her fingers with his. “I’m listening.”

“Though perhaps it is better shown than spoken. You did speak of desire earlier, did you not?”

She nods, exhaling a trembling breath, and grips his hand. Taking that for her answer, he stoops, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, but fervent kiss. Her heart pounds, her face flushed with warmth, her fatigue from the day and fears for tomorrow evaporating in an instant. She melts into him, kissing him back with unrestrained joy. She has never felt safer than when she is in his arms—just as he is never more at peace than when he is in her company.

He draws back, his lips a hair’s breadth from hers. “Aureia…”

Sensing his hesitation, she loosens her grip, casting an eye across the balcony and the city beyond. Though they have some privacy this high up, they are not fully alone. A glance in the wrong direction from any of the passing pedestrians on the path below would raise more than a few questions. And while she is not afraid of their burgeoning relationship, she does not want to attract more gossip than she already does.

She steps away.

“No.”

The word rumbles in the back of his throat. She pauses, eyes wide with surprise, a tingling feeling rolling down her spine. The assertion with which he said it makes her head rush. Rising up on tiptoe, she loops her hands around his neck and pulls him into her. She kisses him—quickly, desperately, as if this could be the final one. He groans and turns his head to the side, deepening the kiss. Her lips part. His breath is hot in her mouth, his tongue gliding by hers, the kiss now brazen and fearless. She can feel him shaking, swept up in the thrill of it all, the overwhelming ecstasy of carving out this moment for themselves, despite their circumstances.

If she has learned anything in the past two years, it is that there is no time. No time for anything at all.

Pulling her away from the balustrade, he sweeps her into an embrace, hands on her rear, and lifts her up. She laughs, fingers tangled in his hair, and wraps her legs firmly around him. She is higher than him now, and bows her head to kiss him, her hair falling about their faces in a tangle. She has always found a special delight in his strength, how easily he can carry her. Most of her days are spent with a certain level of measured control. To give that up, to relinquish it wholly to someone she trusts…

Her heartbeat quickens, desire coursing through her. She feels it so rarely, and yet with him it easy. Simple. She is forever grateful.

She nuzzles his cheek. “Aymeric,” she murmurs, her lips brushing his ear. “Come to my chambers.”

He shifts, adjusting his grip on her, and stares rapturously at her for a moment, taking in every detail of her face. “Gladly,” he says. “Willingly. I have been waiting for you to ask since your arrival.”

She raises an eyebrow, unable to hide her grin. “All that time? Your composure is admirable.”

He doesn’t dignify her teasing with a response. Kissing her openly, he carries her from the balcony and down the hall to her rooms.

There will be time for duty when the sun rises.