#but we both make out with him (Aymeric)

[42chive]

Yeah okay i saw one picture of Estinien and Aymeric kissing in a silly funny haha situation and now i just can’t stop thinking about it. Locha holding Estis hand and him holding Aymerics. This is my boyfriend and this is my boyfriend’s boyfriend.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

heavensward-- bitter pill

(some time before helping Artoiel out in Coerthas Western Highlands)

Haurchefant had learned that when he was in a mood, it was best for him to identify the source and the reason why his temper was up. To confront it head on, force himself to accept it, and then work with whatever solution he could come up with. Sometimes the resolutions were bitter, but he could always soothe the sting.

Not this time.

The training dummies were in sorry shape, having been the victims of both sword and shield since the Silver Fuller had locked himself in the training room. Yet Haurchefant wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. His body moved through the training drills on automatic, his mind racing. The memory of what he’d witnessed this morning stuck on endless repeat inside his brain.

----

They’d been at breakfast—himself, his father, his brothers, and Riven. There’d been no sign of Alphinaud but that was almost normal now, the younger elezen getting up early in the mornings to meet with Tataru. Then the House steward had come in…

“Ser Augustine Truehart requests an audience with you all, my lords. The young lord Alphinaud is with him.”

“Truehart?!” Artoiel exclaimed. “What does he want to see all of us about?” Everyone knew of Augustine, one of the most powerful knights of the city. His skill in combat was unmatched, as was his dedication to Halone. His reputation was a bit checkered however, it was common knowledge he’d defied the Archbishop’s edict against leaving and had gone to train at the Gladiator’s Guild in U’ldah, even becoming a popular Bloodsands fighter. He’d returned to Ishgard some years ago and had won a coveted place in one of the more elite paladin orders. Rumors had it that he’d been tied with both Zephrim de Valhourdin and Aymeric de Borel for the positions of the Very Reverend Archimandrite of the Heavens’ Ward and Lord Commander of the Temple Knights. Edmont nodded to the steward.

“Give them leave.” He instructed. The servant bowed and left. Moments later the dining room door opened. Alphinaud was the first to walk in, with Augustine trailing him. There was a look of determination on his face.

“My lords.” Alphinaud stopped and offered a bow, Augustine mirroring him. “I beg pardon for disturbing you.”

“No apologizes needed.” Edmont replied. “Ser Truehart, you honor us with your presence—and I admit, have sparked some curiosity. Have you come here to issue a challenge to my sons again for the upcoming tournament?”

“No, my lord.” Augustine answered, a faint smile appearing on his face. “I will not be participating in any tournaments soon. Which I confess, does rob me of the chance to spar with the lords Fortemps and Fuller.”

“Come to Camp Dragonhead, friend!” Haurchefant invited. “I am most certainly eager for a rematch, and perhaps you will show me some of the Ul’dans’ tricks!” Augustine offered a faint smile at that, but his eyes flicked to Alphinaud. There was…anxiety in the paladin’s eyes, Haurchefant realized. His interactions with Augustine had always been brief, but never had he seen the paladin be nothing but stoic. A quick glance around the table showed him that both Artoirel and Emmanellain had caught the uncharacteristic display as well.

What’s going on?

“Ser Augustine approached me early this morning, which resulted in us having to speak with Tataru.” Alphinaud broke into the silence. “He has…come to a decision, which we both have said yes to—and covers a topic we had been debating with you, Riven.”  Riven blinked at that, tilting her head. Alphinaud turned to look at the armored Hyur.

“Augustine?”

“As of today, I have joined the Scions of the Seventh Dawn in my full capacity as a paladin of Ishgard.” Augustine declared. His pronouncement was met with surprise from the Fortemps men—but Haurchefant noted, minimal from Riven. Which would make sense, she and Augustine had crossed paths before. The paladin continued.

“I was…made an offer to join, back when I was a Bloodsands gladiator in Ul’dah. Thancred Waters sought me out, having correctly deduced that I also carried the same gift as the Antecedent and Riven. I refused.”

“The Echo.” Artoirel breathed. “Ser Truehart! You…” Augustine’s bicolored gaze flicked to the older Fortemps son and he nodded.

“Yes. The Mothercrystal blessed me with its’ gift when I was younger. But as I grew older, I feared that I would be taken up for heresy by the Inquisition. I left Ishgard not only to expand my training in combat, but to try and find a way to control my power.” A rueful smile made Augustine’s lips twitch. “I had great success with the first…not so much with the second.”

“Life would be significantly easier if we could control the Echo.” Riven said, offering her own sardonic smile.

“Why did you refuse the Scions’ offer?” Edmont asked, frowning.

“I had learned the Broken Blade had begun their search for aspirants.” Augustine answered, naming his paladin order. “If I had joined the Scions, I would not have been able to return home and continue following my dream.”  He exhaled.

“I…had to choose.” His gaze lifted, casting around the room. “Something that I have…always felt guilty for.”

“Tis not guilt you should feel, Ser Augustine!” Haurchefant exclaimed. “If anything, the timing was wrong!”

“Indeed.” Alphinaud asserted. “Having you join us as a general man-at-arms, especially at this moment is a great boon. And…well, regarding the other matter…” The white-haired elezen glanced at Riven, who blinked.

“Other matter?” She repeated. Augustine looked at Alphinaud. The Sharlayan scholar nodded. The paladin inhaled, steeling himself, Haurchefant noted with surprise. Squaring his shoulders, he marched away from Alphinaud, heading to Riven’s seat at the breakfast table. The brunette watched him advance, confusion written all over her face.

“Augustine?” The paladin didn’t reply, stopping to stand next to her. “What…what are you—what are you doing?!” The last part of the sentence came out in a yelp as Augustine suddenly knelt before the chair. One hand went to grip the hilt of his sword, the other rested on his knee, and his head bowed.

“My lady Salder, Hydaelyn’s favored daughter and Warrior of Light. I offer to you my service freely.” One could hear a pin drop in the dining room. “I commit to your command my sword, my shield, and my life. I give into your keeping my fealty and service, which under the eyes of Halone, can only be released by your will, gross misconduct, or my death. Your enemies will become my enemies, your allies will become my allies. Allow me to be the bulwark between you and all harm.”

-----

Exhaustion rolled through Haurchefant. With a shaky sigh he pulled his sword free of the dummy, idly watching as straw and wood finally gave up the fight to stay assembled. Both tumbled down to sprawl across his feet, sad little splinters and mangled husks. Sweat rolled down his face, chest and back, and Haurchefant closed his eyes.

I…cannot…  Oh, the jealousy and rage that had suddenly overtaken him at that moment. The nerve of Augustine, the fucking gall for him to presume to take a place that he…could not have. Dimly Haurchefant could remember Riven’s protesting—

“Augustine—no! I’m not…worthy of such…”

His father had moved then, quickly pulling Riven away to talk with her. He’d shot Haurchefant a look for him to come as well—but Haurchefant had disobeyed, rooted to his chair, staring at Augustine. Artoirel had stepped in, and the trio had left the room briefly. Alphinaud had followed. Whatever they’d spoken of it must have convinced Riven, for minutes later she’d returned…

Walked over to the paladin, shy and twisting her hands—but then she’d squared her shoulders too, straightening her spine and looking at him…

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

And all Haurchefant could do was watch, bile boiling in his stomach. Raging against the fact that he was already forsworn—to Halone, to Ishgard. Bite back the anger that it was he who had been supporting Riven from the very start, not this…prettyboy knight. He wanted to be the one swearing fealty to her, he wanted to be the one joining the Scions! He…

Was forsworn and he knew it. He could no more leave his post than a tiger could change its stripes. He’d laid in his path long ago, fighting tooth, nail, and claw to carve out a place for himself in his home, in his family, in his father’s heart.

Timing, Alphinaud had said. Haurchefant had to admit the teen was right, even though it was a bitter and hard pill to swallow. He had been perfectly placed to help Riven and the Scions…just as Augustine had been perfectly placed to become her sworn-knight. There was no better man to protect her from the prowling wolves of the nobility and church.

But it hurt. It hurt so much. And alone in the training room, Haurchefant had to admit why not even the thought of Riven’s safety being in good hands could ease the pain.

He liked her.

He loved her.

But it was never going to be.

--------

(a thank you to @saesama and @chysgoda for helping me figure out paladin oaths!)

[lilbittymonster]

Day 25: Perpetuity

Read on AO3

We, the undersigned, hereby do submit this proposal for review by the House of Lords and the House of Commons of the Holy See of Ishgard for review. This proposal aims to secure land in the Western Coerthas Highlands, for uses both immediate and in perpetuity, for agricultural and residential use…

The words swam across Aymeric’s vision as he read yet another revision of the same proposal that had crossed his desk every fortnight in the past three moons. It’s not that he disagreed that reclaiming their once bountiful farmland was necessary, but there was simply not enough hands and not enough funds to support such an endeavour. He continued to scan the document, noting the minute cessions and adjustments made after the previous rejection, and had begun drafting yet another when there was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” he said without looking up.

The door opened and shut quietly, followed by silence save for the scratch of his quill. Only the scrape of a tail against the carpet that he knew to be intentional alerted him to Kitali’s proximity.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said, still not looking up.

“It’s two bells past midnight, Aymeric,” she said flatly, leaning against the desk. “You said you’d be in bed ‘shortly’ at 11.”

“Just let me finish this paragraph.”

“Finish the sentence.”

“’Tis only a draft letter, but I need to get this down now so it will be prepared for discussion tomorrow,” he said patiently, finally looking up at her.

Her arms were folded in their usual disdain and her hair was completely unbound. Judging by the robe she was wearing, she had likely gotten up and out of bed again to fetch him, and he felt a twinge of regret. Her mild scowl softened into concern, and her hand cupped his chin to hold his head steady.

“You aren’t focusing properly,” she said. “Where are your glasses?”

“Likely on my desk in the Congregation, where I left them. I was already halfway home when I realised.”

She released his jaw, and he missed the contact instantly.

“D’you not have a spare set?”

“I will make time to speak with the alchemists about grinding a new pair of lenses tomorrow,” he promised.

Turning back to the page, he finished out his final thought for the evening as Kitali waited in silence. His quill had hardly been set down when the bottle of bone powder was being pushed his way by her tail. Taking it and sprinkling a generous amount over the ink, he sat back in his chair and rubbed at his admittedly dry eyes.

“Come to bed, please,” she said, much more softly this time. “Before you give yourself a headache.”

Something popped in his lower back as he stood and turned out of his chair. He braced himself momentarily on the edge of the desk, body aches settling in from long hours of not moving, and slowly leaned down to kiss her.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” he murmured apologetically.

Kitali hummed, pressing up into another kiss. “I’m sure you'll make it up to me later.”

[headcanons-n-shit]

Can I peg the ffxiv boys 🤤🤤

Ya know? Fuck it. We horny tonight.

Adults only kiddies look away.

Yes you can peg the ff14 boys.

Thancred

EMINENTLY peggable. Just look at that little dude. Hes the height of a min height miquote. He has the 'i do anal' hairstyle. He basically wears a collar. He is literally begging to be bent over any given flat surface and pegged within an inch of his life, please and thank you.

Enthusiastic about the proposition. In fact hes probably the one to bring it up. And buy the strap. If he doesnt already have it on hand, that is.

Urianger

He has a powerpoint presentation prepared for this very moment. It includes several different poses, a fine selection of lubricants, and even an instructional video on preparation. Idk if it kills the mood or makes it hotter, thats up to you.

G'raha

Not to be reductive about miqote here, but literally if you pet his ears and pull his tail a little g'raha will roll over and let you do just about anything to him. Hes already wavering on the edge of throwing himself at your feet at any given moment, he is so eager to please you, but he definitely gets more into it than he expected.

Aymeric

Sometimes you have to look at a man in power and go, 'i can make a babygirl out of that.'

Yes you can peg him. It takes a little bit of convincing, sure, and be prepared to put the work in this man IS a pillow princess. Watch him writhe and mewl tho, halones mercy he is pretty.

Estinien

No

Jk of course. Kinda. Its just that estinien has massive trust AND body issues, youre going to have to ease him into the idea. Just take it slow and be gentle.

Haurchefant

Another one who's wholeheartedly enthusiastic about the idea of you pegging him. He happily procures everything you might need for this, from the strap to the lube to the warm towels. Although, from the way he runs his fingers over the leather of the harness, thorougly ensuring that everything is secure, neither too loose nor too tight, his fingers and eyes lingering a bit too long....

This might be hitting more than one kink for him, tbh

Sidurgu

No.

Bonus

Ardbert

I will admit: ive thought about it. A once-enemy who turns out to just be a sweet dude? A guy with golden-retriever frat-boy energy and biceps bigger than my head?

Peg this man lovingly. There better be rose petals and lavender oil involved. You both deserve gentle things. You both deserve a soft ending.

[myreia]

fic authors self rec

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the love ❤️

I was tagged by @lilbittymonster to fill this out, thank you so much!

I'm a little late with this, but I'll tag a few folks (I think this is going around as an ask meme, too?). If you've already been asked or tagged, I'd love to see a second selection of your favourites! 💖

@bearlytolerant @tsunael @anneapocalypse @ievaxol @ardberts

@fourteenthz @birues @thewitchofelpis @a-shakespearean-in-paris @thevikingwoman

@impossible-rat-babies @autumnslance @gatheredfates @hylfystt

—01. Divergence of the Heart

Final Fantasy XIV | Heavensward | Wolmeric, Wolcred + background Thancred/Hilda Explicit | 53,996 words | 11 chapters

Aureia Malathar may have made a name for herself in Ishgard, but her deeds come with a hefty personal toll. Despite her victories at the Grand Melee she has never felt more unsure of herself. Her relationship with Thancred—the person she thought knew her the best—is strained, yet she cannot abandon him. Aymeric is falling for her harder with each passing day, yet she cannot bring herself to accept it. All may be fair in love and war, but at least war is predictable. Love, on the other hand…

I wrote this fic last year and it quickly became both extremely personal and also one of my favourite things I've ever written. It's also me poking fun at myself for creating what is probably the worst love triangle based off a couple lines of in-game dialogue from Thancred.

But I think the thing that makes it special to me isn't the love triangle or the emotional entanglements or the drama, it's exploring the different facets of Aureia's asexuality as a sex-positive and greyace person. This is a pretty complex topic and asexuality isn't as straightforward as "no sex ever". I also wanted to approach the erotic scenes with a certain sensibility and pull back the curtain on the romanticism of first times in search of something a little more grounded.

—02. Bound by Faith

Final Fantasy XIV | Shadowbringers | Wolcred Explicit | 28,406 words | 5 chapters

With their enemies defeated, the Crystarium is alive with celebration. Despite the joy around her, Aureia is uncertain about the next steps to take. So is Thancred, for that matter. The puzzle of their lives has sat incomplete for years, but finally this last, precious piece may be able to slide into place.

Okay so. 🥺 This was the first big Aureia/Thancred piece that I finished. I wrote it when I was going through an extremely rough time last year, and I think it was cathartic in a way to have them have all the right things come together so that taking a chance on a relationship finally feels right.

—03. As We Move Forwards

Final Fantasy XIV | Endwalker | Wolcred Mature | 8,140 words | 2 chapters

With tragedy averted and the world in recovery, Thancred and Aureia finally have some time to themselves. It’s nice—good even—to spend time alone, focusing on the things that matter most. But as they depart on a trip across Ilsabard, the question of what comes next lingers in his mind. Where do you go from here? How do you pick up the pieces of something broken and put it back together?

This is a much more recent Aureia/Thancred fic than the previous ones, and I'm enjoying poking at their Endwalker timeline. So much happens. Many things have been said and done, and their marriage has been put through the wringer. It was fun to explore what moving on looks like when they came so close to everything falling apart due to the pressures of outside circumstances. Marriage for them is not a happy ever after, it's just another point on the journey and they both still have a lot of growing to do.

—04. Resistance

Dragon Age: Origins | Tabris x Daveth Explicit, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death | 25,370 words | 7 chapters

Numbed by the events that took her away from Denerim, Rhea Tabris arrives in Ostagar to become a Grey Warden. But as she prepares for initiation and encounters an unexpected person, she discovers she can never truly let her past die.

I think this is my favourite DA fic back from when I used to write a lot of DA stuff. I don't know what it is about the Tabris x Daveth ship, it's such a rarepair but my mind latched onto the possibility and wanted to shake it up and down like a salt shaker and see what fell out. Angst and smut, apparently.

—05. Leave Me At the Shore of the Heart

Dragon Age 2 | Bethany Hawke x Anders Mature | 9,332 words | 4 chapters

On the eve of the Deep Roads expedition, a chance conversation between Anders and Bethany sparks feelings neither of them expected.

This one is special to me because it's the last DA fic I wrote. I'm not entirely sure what possessed me to write this ship, but I was turning a few things over in my head while playing DA2 and I just had a thought about the possibilities of character interactions — tl;dr the conversation I made up in my head was interesting and I needed to follow it haha.

[howdygravytrain]

Unexpected Blessings pt. 2 (final)

here's the finale of this post, introducing arch train, gravy and aymeric's son! i was inspired by this comic and have been wanting to do something for months, now it's finally done and out!!!

after finding him not only alone but also not breathing, gravy and aymeric rushed him to the nearest chirurgeon and nursed him back to health. at first they thought about taking him to the orphanage, but it was already at max capacity (and seeing as he was an au ra, they knew there were folks who viewed them as draconic beasts), gravy and aymeric fostered him but eventually adopted little arch

i plan to make a better intro post just for arch, but for now, i'd like to introduce y'all to Haurchefant "Arch" de Borel Train! 🤠

transcript below the break!

TRANSCRIPT

Panel 1: [MANY YEARS LATER…]

Bandit Leader: Alright, lady. We’ll make this easy for you…

Panel 3: Bandit Leader: Your gil or your life.

Panel 4: Gravy Train: Oh no! Someone call a chirurgeon!

Panel 5: Gravy Train: But not fer me.

Panel 6: Bandit Leader: What? What are you on about, grann–

Panel 8: [A FEW MOMENTS LATER…]

Gravy Train: Thank ya fer savin’ me back there, sweetheart!

Arch Train: Mom, we both know damn good and well that you were never in any danger. If anything, I saved those assholes from you.

Panel 9: Gravy Train: Whaaat, I can’t brag ‘bout my son savin’ his ol’ mama? Tell ya what, to show my thanks, how’s’bout I make yer favorite fer supper tonight: chicken fried steak an’ some pecan pie?

Arch Train: You drive a hard bargain, mom.

[dawnslight-aegis]

18. hackneyed (make-up)

“What are your plans for Starlight?” The question slipped out before Aymeric had the chance to think better of it, and he winced at the flat stare Estinien sent him in response.

They hadn’t known each other terribly long, and been tentative friends an even shorter period of time, but even so, Aymeric knew how sensitive the other man was to any even oblique mention of his family.

He cast about for a follow-up statement that wouldn’t sound completely trite, and settled on a peace offering: “My mother makes an excellent holiday roast, if you’d like to come by. Far better than anything we can afford on our pay, and I wouldn’t wish the Congregation’s idea of Starlight dinner on my worst enemy, much less a friend.”

A grunt was his only answer, and Aymeric sighed internally. He hadn’t expected much, honestly. The dragoon-in-training was recalcitrant on his best day, but he was also unfailingly loyal, and completely unconcerned with social status in a way that was incredibly refreshing. Aymeric liked him a great deal, even with his sour attitude – and if Estinien accepted the invitation, maybe it would stop his mother from fussing about him being lonely, which always inevitably led to her trying to persuade him to live at home rather than the barracks.

Aymeric had not had many friends in his youth, and truthfully, joining the Temple Knights had been as much an attempt to find somewhere to belong as a place to prove himself and serve his city. He had hoped that his fellow recruits would judge him on his own merits, but the highborn gave him a large berth for the same baseless reasons they always had, and most of the lowborn sneered at the idea of another noble son playing knight – especially one who was his father’s heir. Spending his nights in the comfort of his childhood home would only make that problem all the worse.

Most days he attempted to distance himself from his parentage – both the truth and the rumor – but no one, not even his detractors, could begrudge him going home for Starlight.

And so he was sitting at the dining table, regaling his father with only slightly embellished stories from his recent forays into the highlands, while his mother put the finishing touches on a meal she still insisted on cooking herself, when there was a dull thud against the heavy wood of the front door.

His father always dismissed their meager household staff to their own family homes for the holiday, so Aymeric rose and hurried to the door himself, trying not to be too hopeful. Perhaps it was merely a group of carolers, or a friar accepting alms for the children of the Brume.

Opening the door revealed a rather disgruntled young elezen man, hair released from its customary tail, and clad in linen shirt and calfskin trousers that looked nice, if a bit rumpled, and entirely unsuitable for the season. Aymeric stared at him in shock for a moment, before his face cracked into a wide grin. “Estinien! I did not think you were coming!”

His excitement was met with a glare. “Are you going to let me in or not? It’s bloody cold out here.”

Aymeric stepped aside just in time to avoid being pushed aside as Estinien shoved himself through the doorway without waiting for an answer.

“My apologies. What made you change your mind?”

Estinien folded his arms across his chest, thin mouth set in an irritated line that Aymeric was beginning to suspect was partially embarrassment. “I never said no. And you were right, what they serve at the barracks tastes like chocobo’s arse,” he declared loudly, and Aymeric could hear a soft snort of laughter from his father in the dining room.

As they walked towards the dining room, Aymeric murmured a quiet, “mind your language in front of my mother, please.”

Estinien’s ears turned a bit pink, and suddenly he went from looking like a man of two and twenty to a boy of fifteen. “I’m not a bloody imbecile, I know how to behave,” he hissed back, and Aymeric very politely did not point out the hypocrisy in his word choice.

As they entered the dining room, so did the Lady de Borel, heavy silver platter held in delicate hands that had begun to shake more often than they did not. Leaving Estinien to stand in the doorway, Aymeric darted over to his mother and took the platter from her, ignoring her protests as he did so.

“Well, who’s this, then?” asked his father, peering at Estinien over his spectacles, and Aymeric smothered a laugh at how uncomfortable the man looked. ‘Twas uncharitable of him to find amusement there, but the man looked as if he had stepped onto a battlefield filled with dragons, rather than a friend’s home with his elderly parents.

“Estinien Varlineau, ser,” he responded, awkwardly, shifting his weight as if unsure of his welcome. “Aymeric invited me.”

As Aymeric put down the heavy platter of food, he decided to throw the poor man a lifeline. “Father, you will remember that I mentioned a young dragoon who saved my life two moons ago? That was Estinien, who has since become a good friend of mine. As he is unable to return home for Starlight, I invited him to ours.”

His mother gasped and walked over to Estinien, taking his hands in her own. “Oh, of course! Thank you so much for looking after our boy. Come, sit.” She tugged him towards the table and Estinien followed, looking a bit overwhelmed as she ushered him to the seat next to Aymeric’s own. His father rose and pulled out her chair for her as she walked back around the table, sinking into it gratefully, and Aymeric squashed a twinge of worry for how unsteady she seemed.

Estinien sat as he was bid, casting a slightly bewildered glance in Aymeric’s direction as he carved the roast and deftly transferred it to plates. “That’s laying it on a bit thick, isn’t it? As I recall, it was you saving my damned fool hide. Twice.”

Aymeric shot him a warning look, then shook his head, face falling back into a pleasant mien. “Ah, but if you had not wounded that dragon as you did, it would not have fled the battlefield, and instead finished what it began with the rest of our company. Thus I owe you my life, and my thanks.”

Ducking his head and fidgeting, Estinien didn’t say much throughout the dinner, only speaking when spoken to (and without any more swearing, praise Halone), save to compliment the cooking, which made Aymeric’s mother glow with pride. They had scarcely finished eating when his parents excused themselves, his father gently guiding his mother up the stairs as she leaned on him in exhaustion.

Aymeric sighed. Clearly she had overtaxed herself today – ‘twas likely that this would be the last Starlight dinner she cooked herself.

Turning to his guest, he held up the half-empty bottle of wine, then refilled only his own glass when Estinien shook his head. “I am glad you came. They worry too much, and I think you being here eased that somewhat. Or at least made them less likely to openly fuss over me.”

A faraway look came over Estinien’s features, doubtless thinking of his own parents, and he shook his head. “Wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Fancy house aside, you actually live like people.”

“Glad I am to have disabused you of the notion that I am some spoiled little lordling, playing at war,” Aymeric responded, a faintly bitter twist to his words.

“Oh, have no doubt, I still think you’re spoiled. Just in a normal way, not the highborn brat way.” Estinien grinned and tossed back the last dregs of his wine as if it were a mug of ale.

Aymeric laughed and shook his head. “’Tis better than the alternative, I suppose.”

Wood scraped over stone as Estinien shoved his chair back. “I should be getting back, I’m sure they’ll have us doing drills in the morning.” He turned away as he stood, then paused, not looking back. “Thanks,” he muttered, then tromped towards the front door without another word.

Whether he meant for the invitation, or for the arrow to the eye of the dragon that nearly killed him, or for the offer of friendship, Aymeric didn’t rightly know, but it warmed his heart as surely as the wine did.

[starrysnowdrop]

Why Hali/Aymeric?

This is something that I’ve been wanting to write up for a long time now, and I’ve finally been able to get my thoughts down properly. For those who have been around for a while might be used to my ship by now and can see how their chemistry is, but I know I have some newer followers that might be interested in this explanation. Or perhaps you’re just curious even though you’ve been here forever. Either way, I thank you in advance for taking your time to read this! See under the cut below.

Updated: 09/21/2024

So, you might or might not know that Hali is actually not my first WoL OC. Before Hali, I had made an Auri Hingan Samurai woman named Yume Aino, whom I first created back in 2019, shortly after the release of Shadowbringers (Yume’s blog can be found here: @firelightmuse). I didn’t realize it at first, but because of how I had written Yume, as a stoic, no nonsense warrior through and through, but also someone who was dealing with a lot of trauma and trying to find purpose in her life, I soon had a really hard time shipping her with anyone. Over the years I had tried shipping Yume with Cid, G’raha, and I briefly thought of Artoirel, but I now have found her perfect ship with Zenos. Before any of them, however, my first choice of an NPC ship was Aymeric.

Why Aymeric? Well, it took me quite a while to realize that a huge part of me wanting to ship Yume with Aymeric as a first choice was a very personal one. Aymeric was the first character in FFXIV that I completely fell for. Though I enjoyed the characters of Cid, Haurchefant, and G’raha in ARR, it wasn’t until we meet Aymeric in the Pre-HW patches that I had gotten attached to the world and the story through finding a favorite character of my own. Aymeric is so special to me, and that made me try to ship my only WoL at the time with him. But as you can see, that ultimately didn’t work out.

It didn’t work out because Yume and Aymeric didn’t vibe well with each other. There was a severe lack of chemistry between the two. I had realized that Aymeric is much too polite and respectful of decorum to break Yume out of her shell to make a deeper connection than just comrades that respect one another, and I didn’t think Yume was the kind of person that Aymeric would come to love either, as she would likely remind him of the many Ishgardian nobles that he was around all the time, for many reasons which I won’t elaborate on here due to brevity. And as I didn’t have any other OCs at the time, I just continued developing Yume and an NPC ship with Aymeric was discarded. Although I personally was very saddened by that, I thought it was the right decision for both characters.

Yet, I continued having trouble writing any kind of ship with Yume over time. After a few years, as I kept getting frustrated with the ships I was trying to write for her, I got inspired to make another WoL OC that would be different from Yume in every way. She actually would end up being much more of a self insert than I ever expected, but nonetheless I fell in love with the pink haired, happy go lucky Lalafellin woman who would become Hali Aloke, my pride and joy.

As I got Hali through base ARR and into the ARR patches, I didn’t have any intention on trying to ship her Aymeric and to try a WoL x NPC ship with him a second time, as I actually had intentions to ship Hali with Krile later on in her WoL journey.

But everything changed once Hali met Aymeric in 2.4, the lead up to Heavensward. I saw them in the cutscenes together, and as ridiculous of a height difference they had, I still couldn’t help but giggle and squeal whenever they were together. They just were incredibly adorable, and I couldn’t hold myself back. I just had to try to ship Hali with Aymeric.

So I decided to try to write a few prompts with them together and see how their dynamic was. And it was even better than I had expected. Their chemistry was so amazing, and the dialogue between them flowed quite effortlessly. Not only was I highly impressed and kept getting inspired to write more and more, but I got a ton of positive feedback from so many people telling me that they loved Hali and Aymeric together.

And I guess that was that. I have never looked back since. Hali x Aymeric are my everything (well besides Yume x Zenos now of course); my ship makes me so damn happy. Just looking at them makes me smile and want to write and gpose more. I can’t get enough of them. It’s to the point now that I don’t know if I could ever write a ship better than Hali x Aymeric. And you know what? I don’t even want to try at this point.

I still can’t fully comprehend how a pink haired, bubbly, sunshine of a lalafellin woman and a noble, brave, and charismatic Ishgardian knight could be such a beautiful and dynamic couple that would not only bring me endless joy but also keep inspiring me far more than anything else I’ve ever written. It is utterly beyond my comprehension, but somehow it works. And I am forever grateful that I just followed my heart and wrote what I wanted, and not for anyone else’s approval, but my own.

I somehow hope this helps inspire someone out there to not be afraid and just go for the ship they want to write for, despite what the fandom at large says. Trust me, it’s worth it.

[starlight-brainrot]

FFXIV - Academic Rival AU (x reader)

Characters: Aymeric, Alphinaud, Urianger, G'raha Tia, Y'shtola

Tags: fluff, high school AU, academic rival AU, gn reader, miscommunication (g'raha's)

Warnings: since it's a high school AU, it's assumed that wol/reader is the same age as Alphinaud.

Word Count: 1336

-

Aymeric

Mr. class president

Chess club leader as well?

You, meanwhile, are the captain of various sports teams

As well as boasting a more than stellar gpa

It ends up being a competition of who will have the better college application - him, or you?

Whenever the two of you meet, it feels as though sparks are flying

The two of you will share pleasantries, but make no mistake - the tension is thick.

For every competition he wins, you make sure to win a couple more. For every academic ribbon you earn, he’s right there behind you.

Haurchefant and Thancred secretly have an ongoing bet to see when the two of you will finally get together.

And as time goes on, more and more of your friends join in on this bet

It seems that the feelings between the two of you are obvious to everyone… but you.

Every stolen glance, every blush, every rant about the other - it was maddening to have to watch two idiots clearly in love avoid their feelings over an inconsequential rivalry.

It’s only after the two of you graduate and receive acceptance letters into the same college, both with full ride scholarships, that Aymeric nervously asks you out.

“I know that we were at odds in high school… but seeing as we’re both here and our rivalry has ended in a tie…”

“Would you like to grab coffee with me?”

Congrats to Alisaie, who won $20 from everyone in your friend group.

-

Alphinaud

The two of you are fellow debate team members

…however, the two of you are constantly trying to one up each other.

Who will capture the attention of the audience?

Who will have a more airtight argument?

You were known for your iron logic. It was tough, if at all possible for others to oppose your arguments

Alphinaud was meanwhile known for capturing the hearts of his audience

Surely a formidable duo, if only the two of you could get along…

As the semester drags on, the big competition for your debate team inched nearer and nearer

With all your mock debates with Alphinaud, you felt like you had done all that you could for tomorrow’s event

But it felt like something was missing…

It was Alphinaud who approached you, wanting to go over strategies

Begrudgingly, the two of you recognized that the other could provide helpful tips

Alisaie gives her brother a knowing look as the two of you settle in with your laptops and coffee. He avoids her look with red cheeks.

He feels sick the morning of the competition. He’s so nervous!

But when he hears you say that he better not lose to anyone but you, he feels some semblance of peace, followed by determination for the day ahead of him.

To no one’s surprise, the two of you crush your competition, leaving your opponents floundering for words as you leave them behind in the dust

No, the real surprise is how loudly the two of you cheer for each other upon victory - how proud you are for Alphinaud and how proud he is of you.

-

Urianger

You’re unsure of when or how the two of you started competing to see who could read more books in the library.

Perhaps it was that the two of you saw each other there everyday

Or the fact that Moenbryda and Y’shtola seem to constantly egg the two of you on

Little did the two of you know, the roegadyn and miqote were trying to get the two of you together, as they had been trying to do for the past four years.

Maybe this will be the year…

Urianger found himself exploring sections of the library he wouldn’t usually frequent in hopes of being in your presence just a little longer.

His puppy love felt silly to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop, especially if you kept looking at him with that soft smile of yours

If given the chance, he’d make a whole new library for you filled with poems and flower words detailing his feelings for you.

If someone were to find one of your names in a library book’s checkout card, it was near guaranteed that the other’s name would be just under it.

Your name became synonymous with his, and vice versa

But a competition that was never meant to be one in the first place will fall apart, have its lines blurred and crossed.

Moenbryda and Y’shtola receive their answer one day when they approach your usual reading spot, only to find the two of you lounging together in one of the library’s bean bags, books long forgotten in favor of sleep wrapped in each other’s embrace.

-

G’raha Tia

Could the two of you really call it a rivalry?

As far as anyone could see, the two of you just had a string of unusual coincidences.

The exact same schedule, lunch spots near each other, both being on the Tennis team - you saw him every hour of every school day.

So then, was it coincidence that his heart eventually began beating faster when you were around?

G’raha felt like he was going to explode, constantly in your presence

So, like any healthy and sane person does, he begins to (try to) avoid you.

Unfortunately for him, it’s almost impossible to avoid someone who shares your whole schedule

Oh, and you definitely noticed what he was doing.

Had you done something to offend the miqote?

Slowly, your friendship morphed into avoiding the other, both of you running from your feelings

When I say that everyone is tired of the two of you making puppy eyes at each other when you think no one is looking

I mean EVERYONE

It’s the twins who eventually get fed up and decide to act on it, forcing the two of you to put the tennis equipment away together, just to get the two of you to talk.

The silence is deafening as the two of you awkwardly clean up

It’s when the two of you brush fingertips and he recoils like he’d been burned that you snap.

“Am I really that disgusting to you?” You question, frowning.

Upon recognition of what he’s done, G’raha scrambles for an explanation, but eventually sighs and gives in, telling you the truth, he’d always had a crush on you, and hoped it’d fade away with time.

News flash, his feelings only got worse

He sincerely apologizes, not expecting any reciprocation or forgiveness

And is shocked when you give a relieved giggle.

“I’ve always liked you too, idiot.”

-

Y’shtola

Y’shtola was going to destroy you.

Well, perhaps that’s a bit too strong.

There was an internship available for fresh graduates under a well known researcher, and both you and Y’shtola were competing for a recommendation for said internship

Anyone who witnessed the two of you would admit that it’s a bit scary to watch the two of you interact.

As they say, an immovable object met an unstoppable force.

Even your teacher is a bit intimidated by whatever’s going on between the two of you, but given that they’re receiving help from the two of you, they’ll keep quiet about the fact that they can give you both the recommendation.

Though the two of you were at odds, it didn’t stop you both from completing your work together swiftly and without complaint.

You couldn’t help but feel as though Y’shtola enjoyed riling you up - but even as you tried to resist the temptation to reply to her, you failed every time

Luckily for Y’shtola, out of everyone she could have this silly competitive streak with, it was you. Oh, how cute you look when you’re upset, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed.

Upon the realization that both of you got the recommendation, an eerie silence entered the room.

All that competition for nothing?

How embarrassing.

And if anyone noticed the two of you walking to a coffee shop, hands entwined after this whole mess?

They’re better off not mentioning it.

-

a/n - I apologize if I wrote anyone ooc hehe... I'm not used to writing for many characters so I just took em and ran (shrug)

[agent-cupcake]

Éphémère

I’ve been attempting to fill short kinktober prompts with the Final Fantasy XIV cast to procrastinate the larger project I've been doing. We’ll see where it goes. Most of them are AU's of some kind idk.

Pairing: Aymeric de Borel x f!Reader Kink: Semi-public / Blowjob Tags: Explicit, light D/s dynamic, alternate universe: modern Word Count: 2.7k

“What are you doing here?” Aymeric asked, his blue eyes widening with surprise upon seeing who had been knocking. You hadn’t called, although you should have. You didn’t want to risk being turned away, to be told you couldn’t steal a few precious moments from his busy life. Besides, you had a good cause this time. 

Given that your hands were full, you shut the door with your foot. His office was the same as ever. It was not quite as grand as someone might expect, clearly inhabited by somebody who favored efficiency over aesthetics. The air smelled like him and the corporate scent of floor polish and new upholstery. While the blinds covering the windows facing Ishgard were wide open, those over the windows looking into the main office space were closed. It gave a very strong illusion of isolation and intimacy, like it was just you and him. Emboldened by that thought, you fixed Aymeric with as serious a stare as you could. 

“I heard that you’re working way too hard, and that your staff is worried about you,” you said, having decided upon a cold open approach so he couldn’t wriggle out of your accusations. “I’ve even heard that it’s putting you in a bad mood. The men are losing morale.” You waited a beat for his response, but he just looked at you, completely befuddled. Eventually, you prompted him with a prodding,“So?” 

“So… what?” Aymeric asked.

“Is any of that true?”

“True?” he repeated, his dark eyebrows pinching in the middle. “Ah, no…  No, it is not.” Aymeric finally forced a reassuring smile. He wasn’t very good at faking. “I appreciate the concern, but I am fine.” You gave him a doubtful look, slowly meandering over to his cluttered desk. There was nothing to be said, you both knew that you were right. He could try to downplay it all he liked, but even Aymeric had his limits. He sighed. “I cannot afford to take a break yet. I promise to rest once this matter is resolved. Perhaps I’ll take a day off. We’ll go somewhere—anywhere you wish.”

“We won’t be going anywhere after you work yourself into a nervous breakdown,” you told him flatly. 

“Please, don’t say such things. I promise that I will be fine.”

You sighed. “Either way, I brought you something to eat,” you said, setting the bag of takeout on the tiny bit of space left on his desk. “I had a feeling you skipped lunch.” 

“Lunch?” he asked, brow furrowing. “What time is it?”

“Past lunch.”

“I see. I must have lost track of the time, I… Thank you.” He placed a hand over yours and smiled, a real smile, and you felt your chest clench. Even overworked and exhausted, he was beautiful. Far more beautiful than any man had a right to be. “I dare not consider where I might be without you.” 

You smiled, even knowing it was a platitude. He was the most resilient person you had ever met, and one of the most solitary. Aymeric would be just as okay on his own as with you, but you liked the idea that he needed you, if only for a fleeting moment. You liked to think that there was something only you could give him, something of value. 

And, just like that, you came to the conclusion that he didn’t look like he needed a meal. He looked taut as a bow string and ready to snap, he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looked like he needed a bit more than lunch. 

“Hey, while I’m here, maybe…” you began, faltering with embarrassment as you tried to figure out the best way to phrase it. 

“Is there something else?” 

“I know there’s nothing I can say to make you take a break so I won’t ask. Still, I want to do something to brighten your day and honestly you look like you could use a pick-me-up,” you blurted out, speaking fast to keep your nerve. “I’ve thought about it before and I’m pretty sure I can fit under your desk,” you said, leaning forward to double check. Yeah, there was plenty of room. Three cheers for long legs. “Think of it as stress relief. Like a massage or something but, you know, with my mouth. What do you think?” 

Done with your awkward proposition, you looked back up at Aymeric with as innocent an expression as you could manage, meeting his eyes as if you hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. It was always hard to predict how he might react to any given situation, mostly it was a question of whether or not his Catholic guilt and relentless sense of propriety would win out, but you pretty well expected the way his mouth snapped shut, a muscle in his jaw ticking as his entire body went taut. 

And then slowly, carefully, “Are you…” 

“Offering to give you head in your office at three in the afternoon on a Thursday?” you finished for him. “Um… Yeah, I guess I am.”  

“I… I don’t think… That is,” he cleared his throat, “obscenity of that sort would be extremely inappropriate for a man in my position.”

“C’mon, are you going to tell me that you’ve never thought about it? Doing secret, naughty things is the best part of getting a big, isolated office with a big, roomy desk. Or so I’ve been told.” 

Aymeric swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to the door and back. “Even if I were comfortable with such an egregious breach in etiquette, it would be wrong of me to do so while everyone else is working so hard.” 

“You’re looking at it all wrong,” you argued. “If you work while you’re super stressed out, you won’t do as well, and you act all grumpy, and everybody is unhappy. If you take a teensy tiny little break to let me help you relax, you’ll work better, be nicer, and everybody will be happy... If you need an excuse, you can blame it all on me. You can say you got lured in by the irresistible charm of a succubus who would simply not take no for an answer.”  

He let out a single laugh, dry and nervous and humorless. “Is there any truth in that?” 

“I am pretty insatiable when it comes to you.”

Aymeric reached up to take hold of your chin, gently pulling your face towards his so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. And you knew that look. Conflict. Doubt. Desire.

“If you don’t want to, I’ll let it go,” you said. “But if it would make you feel better, I want to. I’d do anything… sir.” 

Aymeric’s expression hardened, his eyes darkening a shade, and it was a stare that demanded your submission. It was the kind of look that was usually followed with orders like remove your clothes or don’t move unless I say or open your legs or-

“Get on your knees.” Even half whispered, even though he always left enough space in his demands for you to deny him if you were truly uncomfortable, that wasn’t the sort of order you turned down. 

“Okay,” you said, your voice soft. His fingers squeezed your jaw a little bit tighter, his eyebrow raising ever so slightly. “Yes, sir,” you amended. Aymeric released your face and leaned back, watching as you fell to your knees. Although there was enough space under his desk for you to fit, crawling under it was kind of awkward. Good thing your skirt was flared, scrambling around like this in anything tight would have been impossible. 

“Is that okay?” he asked. “Should I move back?”

“No, sir. This is…” You breathed out, steadying yourself. “Perfect.”

Knowing you had a time limit, you undid his belt and the button of his pants, slowly pulling the zipper down. Aymeric was kind enough to shift his hips so you could push his trousers down and out of the way. Wanting to savor things at least a little, you traced the outline of his dick through the dark boxer briefs, feeling him harden beneath your touch. Aymeric’s hips shifted and he cleared his throat, prompting you to slip your fingers beneath the waistband to pull those down too. 

He wasn’t hard yet, but the choked noise Aymeric made and the way his hips jumped forward when you began to stroke his cock made you think that he wanted this at least almost as much as you did. He caught himself quickly afterwards. Always playing the stoic.

You realized early on in the relationship that, power dynamic notwithstanding, Aymeric was not the type of man to demand things of you sexually, at least not for his own pleasure. There was an element of trial and error to figure out what worked. It was all pretty complicated. So was he, for that matter. Pretty and complicated. 

Continuing to stroke the base, you paid your respects, kissing and licking your way across his cock. Every inch of him was perfect, though you could admit a preference for this particular part. Perfect, and, as you liked to think in your wildest moments, yours. Alternating between using just the tip of your tongue and the flat, you traced the veins running the length of his dick, following one along the underside until you reached the head, lavishing extra attention at the point where they met. You knew that got him, one of his hands finally finding its way to the top of your head. Humming happily, you did it again before pulling back to swirl your tongue around the swollen crown. His fingers curled against your scalp, not grabbing or pushing, but very insistently there. 

Now that Aymeric was fully hard, you couldn’t help but think about what he felt like inside of you. How full, how complete you were when he fucked you. The mere thought of it was enough to make you moan shakily, wrapping your lips around his cock and pushing forward, sucking and licking enthusiastically in the hopes that he would be able to feel your arousal. Your appreciation, your affection, your adoration. 

That wasn’t something you ever told him, not with words. You knew better than to distract him with too many of your feelings. He was so busy all the time, distant in a way that often left you cold. Not because he was cruel, or unfeeling, but because he lived in service to others, to lead, there was only so much of himself that he could give. Scraps, moments, little fragments of the most magnificent man you’d ever known. And he had been clear about that from the start. You made peace with it. For such a self-sacrificing man, the very least you could do was live in his service. If it was Aymeric, you didn’t mind so much. 

Finding a pace and rhythm that worked took a moment of experimentation, getting your hand and mouth to work together. Plus, you were trying to be quiet, and clean. That’s how these office affairs went, right? Top secret stuff. Aymeric’s hips pushed forward, throwing you off. 

“You needn’t hold yourself back,” he told you, his voice slightly muffled from above. “The walls are quite thick and-” he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “I know you can do better.”

You hummed in understanding, although it probably didn’t sound like much with his cock in your mouth. It was one of Aymeric’s many contradictions. No matter how neat and put-together he always was, nights with him often ended with you teary eyed and dripping with sweat, your thighs slick with cum and saliva leaking from your open mouth, blissed out and sloppy. He wanted to know that you were enjoying yourself so much that you’d be reduced to a swooning, helpless mess. And still, he insisted he wasn’t any sort of sadist. Pretty, complicated, and terribly repressed. 

You gave him what he wanted. It sounded obscene, wet slurping and your little choked moans stifled by his cock, the slick back and forth of your hand working the base, the movements smoothed by your saliva. It was already messy enough to be dripping down your chin and onto your skirt. Probably onto his expensive trousers. He had spare suits at the office though, it was fine. 

“If you’re going to hump my leg, move your skirt out of the way,” Aymeric said. Embarrassing, although he said it with a measure of warmth. 

You stopped, pulling off with a slick pop and a shaky laugh. In your haze, you hadn’t even been aware of what your body was doing. “Ss-sorry, sir. I didn’t…”

“That wasn't a request.” You couldn’t see him, but you could imagine the imperious set of his sharp features, the way his perfect lips blushed dark pink and parted when he was turned on, how his inky dark eyelashes would flutter open so he could look at you with those gorgeous eyes.

You whimpered, a sound you couldn’t help. A bit awkwardly, you hiked your skirt out of the way, shuffling a little closer so you could better grind against his leg.

“Good girl,” he murmured softly. Sweetly, using the hand on your head to pet your hair. You shuddered hard, raising your chin and opening your mouth. Aymeric met you halfway, his hips pushing forward while you moved down, your saliva-slick hand jerking him off in tandem with each bob of your head. 

Now that you were actively trying, the pressure between your legs was intoxicating. You wondered how much he could feel with the heavy fabric of his trousers in the way, if he was aware of how hot you burned for him, how wet every little catch of his breath or groan he couldn’t hold back left you. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was good. At this point, he was practically hitting the back of your throat with each thrust, and you couldn’t tell who was guiding the pace. It was all you could do to sneak in a breath here and there, to remember to use your tongue, to try and keep your voice down as you well and truly lost yourself in the hazy depths of lust and need, shamelessly grinding against his leg. 

Aymeric clearly wasn’t concerned about volume control at all, the office was filled with wet squishing choking noises and your muffled moans. His breathing had become erratic and you could hear the low groans he tried to fight back. You wanted him to come. Desperately, desperately. You wanted to make him feel good, to make him relax, to narrow down his world until it was only you and him and the pleasure he could derive from you. You wanted him to throw you onto his desk and fuck you until you were screaming, to claim you because, God help you, you were his. Not just for a fleeting moment, a single afternoon, a day off, but always. Every second of every day, his. 

“I… can’t…” was the only hoarse warning you got before his hips stuttered, his hand holding your head in place as he came. You braced yourself to take it. For any other guy you wouldn’t have, but Aymeric... 

Aymeric. Every part of him was perfect, you would take anything he gave to you. 

He moaned so prettily, even if he tried to muffle it, the sounds stuttered and choked. You swallowed and swallowed and swallowed, desperate to prove yourself, to take whatever he saw fit to give you. To be his good girl. 

And then he stilled, his hand relaxing. His cock twitched in your mouth, and you pulled back with an unseemly amount of saliva. Like you thought, most of it was on your skirt. Not to mention your sore knees, stiff legs, and the lingering taste of cum in your mouth that was not nearly as pleasant when the act was finished. You needed to get up, the moment was over. He needed to get back to work. But, selfishly stealing a few more precious seconds, you rested your forehead against Aymeric’s knee, and he petted your head, and you let your eyes close. Just for a moment. 

[thevikingwoman]

FFXIVWrite 2024 - Prompt 9

Emmanellain has some doubts about his capabilities. As usual I have lots of opinions about how his family treats him

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 613

Meryta Khatin (wol) & Emmanellain de Fortemps | HW patches Rating: Gen. friendship, support, expectations, past Meryta/Emmanellain

Lend an Ear

Meryta is surprised when it’s Emmanellain who greets her at Camp Dragonhead. Though he’d done his best to prove himself in combat, it’s not his strong suit. Trying to live up to Haurchefant – that’s a fool’s errand. All said and done, she’s happy to see him. Aymeric concludes his business, and they have to be on their way, but she lingers. 

“Emmanellain – how are you? Truly?” she asks, once everyone save Honoroit has left.  

“Meryta, pretty girl. I could use an ear, my friend.” 

“I can stay and listen, Emmanellain.”  

They’ve worked out whatever awkwardness they felt around each other after she ended their fling, and their friendship has been a steady growth since. She still feels her cheeks heat with pretty girl, but it is surely better than old girl.  

“Honoroit, fetch the mulled wine after all. It’s blasted cold here.” 

He runs dutifully runs off. She’s glad he’s here, though she wonders of the burdens on his shoulders. Then again, kids are more capable than anyone thinks, as long as you let them.  

She seats herself in front of the fire with Emmanellain, and tries not to think of the last time she was here. She waits. Emmanellain starts talking soon enough.  

“Do you really think the Garleans will come here?” 

That was not what she expected. She shrugs.  

“I think once we march on them elsewhere, they will probably worry about that first.” 

“Yes. Of course. Surely.”  

Honoroit comes back, and pours mulled wine for them both. It’s hot, and she warms her fingers, and blows on it. Emmanellain takes a big gulp, and for a moment she wonders if steam will come out of his long ears.  

“Thank you Honoroit. Pray leave us alone.” 

“Of course, my Lord.” 

Honoroit runs off, leaving the mulled wine. Meryta takes a small sip.  

“It’s not that I’m worried you know. Well, mayhap a little.” Emmanellain pours himself another cup. “I’m determined to do my best to lead everyone, but you see, Meryta, I’m not – him.” 

“You’re not, Emmanellain. And you shouldn’t be asked to be.” 

“Surely. I – do you think…” he pauses, frowning. “I have really endeavored to train and – but I’m afraid I’ll muck it all up.” 

She reaches for him. It truly isn’t fair, making Emmanellain in charge here. The soldiers – like everyone – loved Haurchefant, and he is missed. Even was Emmanellain even the most skilled of knights, he’d still be unfavorable compared. She wishes Edmont would have asked him to do anything else. Given how well he’s taken care of Honoroit, she wonders if he would be better suited as a teacher. He shouldn’t have to be a warrior just because that is what his father wants – but that’s not a useful thing to say.  

“I’m sure you will do fine, Emmanellain. No, I mean it. You have both been practicing your fighting but what’s more, running a garrison is also about the people here. Having the right people do the right thing. Figuring out what everyone needs.”   

“I guess – I guess I can do that.” 

Emmanellain looks at the drink in his hand. Meryta pats his knee again.  

“You’ll do well enough.” 

“I’ll do my best. I would like him to be proud of me.” 

He doesn’t specify if it’s Haurchefant or Edmont, or even Artoriel. It doesn’t matter.  

“I know you will, Emmanellain. Truly.” 

“I’m glad hearing that, pretty girl.” He smiles at her and puts his mug down, bouncing back in his usual fashion. “Yes, of course I will. I will be the best – ah, mayhap the second best – commander this garrison has ever had. Now, off with you to Gridania. I will manage matters here.” 

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Prompt #17: Sally

-------

(HW)

-----

"-our brave knights, who sallied forth against the heretics of Shiva-" The door shut on the pontificating lording, and Aymeric sighed in relief.

"Thank you, Lucia." He said earnestly. "I didn't think you'd make up an actual emergency to get me out of that viper pit, but..." The Lord High Commander trailed off at the grim expression on his second's face.

"What is it?"

"Augustine Bishop and Mathye Bishop are waiting for you, my lord." Lucia's eyes flicked toward the end of the hallway, where two hooded and cloaked figures stood. Aymeric followed her gaze, and then quickly strode towards the two men.

"Augustine? Mathye?" No use saying 'Bishop', and at this point no use in titles either. Augustine had been technically under his command but was no longer, and Mathye outright outranked him. At their names, the brothers removed their hoods-the cloaks still dripping wet with snow, Aymeric noted. There were puddles around their boots-the pair had just come from outside.

"What is it?"

"We need to talk." Mathye said. It was then Aymeric sensed the tension coming from the pair. Aymeric looked back to Lucia, who shook her head.

"What happened?" He asked, dropping his voice low. Augustine and Mathye both looked at each other. Then the paladin stepped forward, leaning in so he could whisper, and Aymeric tilted his head down.

"We can't Prime."

Shock hit Aymeric like a bolt of levin. He jerked back, staring at Augustine, then at Mathye, who offered a faint nod.

"What?!"

"Halone still remains within us, but she won't let us Prime." Mathye said. "She's blocking it."

You have been made to spill enough blood as it is. Halone's voice was a glacial wind from the north, an undercurrent of rage in her tone. No more.

[lilbittymonster]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @lilas tysm 💜

Tagging: @laspocelliere @anneapocalypse @myreia @crackinglamb @nidstiniens and

@crystallineconflict

Have a bit from the HW WIP that's been making me scream into my pillow.

~

Kitali was scanning the room intently as a number of the party-goers took to the dance floor once more.

“Something the matter?” he asked.

“This is one of the few songs I actually know how to dance to,” she said distractedly, “but I don’t see Haurche anywhere.”

Estinien looked about the room as well, failing to see the distinct silver-blue head of hair amidst the crowd. He swirled what little liquid was left in the bottom of his glass, then downed it and set it on a nearby table before offering his hand out to her. Kitali looked first at his hand, then up at him, raising a brow in bemusement.

“What?”

“I didn’t take you for the dancing type.”

He huffed. “I’m not, but I also made a promise that I’d make an appearance, so…”

“Oh, I see how it is,” she said, taking his hand anyways and allowing him to lead her to the edge of the crowd.

The tune was familiar enough and they settled into the rhythm together easily. After the third or so turn it became evident that neither of them were going to step on the other’s toes, and Estinien actually found he was enjoying himself despite the crowd.

“I see your time with the Fortemps has not been wasted,” he observed.

“Would you believe me if I said I learned this in a single evening with Haurchefant?” she said.

“I would,” he replied. “I’ve seen him dance plenty.”

“Is he the one who taught you, too?”

“Nay.” A knot of nostalgia and heartache surfaced. “’Twas Aymeric who taught me. On the grounds that I should need to know how, should I ever become the Azure Dragoon.”

Kitali tilted her head at him. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“I believe he was under the impression I would play into the politics of the upper houses and be attending lavish parties such as this more regularly.”

That got a snort of laughter from her.

“And here we both are,” she said.

“Aye, here we are.”

He lifted their arms so she could spin again, and by the time she was facing him again her expression had gone from relaxed to fearful. She stumbled on the next step and it was only thanks to years of practise that he was able to keep carrying them through the dance.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Everyone’s staring at me,” she said in a tight voice.

Estinien took a long look around the room as they spun, careful not to linger too long on any one face, and indeed most of the crowd was now gawping and whispering behind their hands while looking at the pair of them.

“It’s far more likely that they’re all staring at me,” he tried to reassure her. “I can guarantee this is the first time some of these people have ever seen my face.”

“Sure.” She didn’t sound convinced.

The rest of their dance was far stiffer, her movements far from clumsy but had grown mechanical. When the song came to an end he pulled them to a stop, still holding onto her. Her gaze was unfocused and she seemed wholly unaware of the crowd surrounding them.

“Come, let’s get some fresh air.”

He gently led her towards the edge of the crowd, a hand pressed pressed between her shoulders to guide her. The whispers and stares were far more blatant as he moved the pair of them but he paid them no mind. He was far more interested in finding a private balcony for them to hide out on.

Pushing open a set of double glass doors, he was greeted with the refreshing chill of the night air. His breath clouded out in front of him as Kitali continued forwards until she was perched at the railing. She was leaning so far over the edge he half-expected her to plummet back down into Foundation. Instead she turned and sat upon the stone facing towards the door defensively.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much,” she sighed. “Thanks.”

“Not one for crowds either?”

“Well, last time I was at a party this large I was framed for murder and had to flee to Coerthas,” she said flatly. “Most of my time around nobles since coming here hasn’t exactly helped that impression.”

His hands flexed as he leaned on the stone next to her.

“I hope by now that you know if anyone tried to harm you, they’d have to go through every dragoon in the city. Myself most of all.”

She looked up at him with an unusually softened expression. She opened her mouth to respond but just then the door opened again, startling them both. Estinien snapped his gaze to the door, already pushing off of the stone defensively, to see Aymeric standing awkwardly with a glass in each hand.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked lightly.

[coldshrugs]

15 Lines of Dialogue Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

tagged by @ghostwise ty so much rinny!! i'll tag: @scionshtola @hythlodaes @lavampira @galadae @myreia @lilas and @thevikingwoman (no pressure!)

okay, i'm cutting out most of the dialogue tags or surrounding text UNLESS they are her own thoughts, describe important body language, or reference speaking to multiple people.

15 lines of Io Laithe Dialogue:

"Want me to stay with you?" The real ending to that question forms on her tongue and stays there: "baby." - whatever keeps you around

"Something else you have in common with him. I thought it might just be the pompous strutting." - longing's favorite season: stable scene

"If holding back the eighth calamity hinged on that alone, I believe you might let the world fall to ruin." - longing's favorite season: part 1

"Oh, right... I forgot those are once-in-a-lifetime events! Shit!" She makes a little show out of it, shaking her fist at nothing and melting into a fake sob against the bar, before meeting him with a straight (but not sober) stare. "Come on, let's go home." - neon moon

“You have a knack for finding wayward souls. Little lambs. It’s like you call to them, or they to you… Like you can’t help but care for them.” - mustering

“Nonsense. I enjoy hearing about them, and I like when you talk like this.” Her hand falls to his forearm, his warm skin growing warmer beneath her touch, and both of them look down to the point of contact. Shit. “Shit.” Oh. She said it out loud. - take another step off the edge

[about pretending to be asleep] “Is this better? Shall I snore?” - slow kiss prompt

“Kiss me,” she says against his mouth, and being able to make the request like this is almost as good as having it fulfilled. “Before I combust.” - tipsy kiss prompt

“By all means, intrude. Once the solitude is broken, it hardly matters by whom.” - see you in the morning

“Estinien,” she huffs, standing at her full height and gesturing around them with the stick. “Have you forgotten we are at sea, and will be for another month? I need to train, and unfortunately, the occasional gull makes for poor sport.” - close quarters

"Oh, you look very serious. But so am I." - scholarly fatigue

“Wonderful to see you, Ser Aymeric. But I’m afraid I’ve been instructed to tell you only that Estinien is getting on well. Offering details could come at a great personal cost–he knows where I live now.” - oblivious

Io’s smile is a tight line, “Right behind you, General.” She turns to Estinien and the smile softens. “But you should stay a moment and catch up. For such dear friends, you don’t spend nearly enough time together. I will live vicariously through your tardiness, and you might be spared the clumsy speech they’ll ask me to give.” - oblivious

Her hand curls around his neck, nails grazing his skin. "Here," she says, "now." - something to talk about

"Gossip runs rampant already." Io kisses his cheek, a final request. "So fuck it. Stay." - something to talk about

[starswornoaths]

4. Reticence

Serella has been keeping a secret. One so immense and important that she has actively hidden it from all that are nearest to her with only the promise that all would make sense in due time.

And then she scheduled herself for a hearing with the Houses of the Lords and Commons.

Set post 6.0

word count: 1,904

~

It was hard not to find some level of amusement in being on the other side of House proceedings for a change, thought Artoirel. He and Aymeric had hidden their enthusiasm at having an hour or so break before the end of the day rather admirably—at least, in Artoirel’s admittedly biased estimation.

More to the point, they had been required to take the hour and recuse themselves from the last case of the day: a proposal of some manner from the Lord Speaker’s very own betrothed, one so secret she had apparently told him naught of save for its existence.

Not that Serella had not wanted to; not only had she kept it from him, but from the entirety of House Fortemps as well, even going so far as to instruct the lot of them—Aymeric included—to remain away from her residence in the Firmament until the proceedings had concluded, lest anyone say the proposal was anyone’s but hers and thus taint it in the eyes of the people as some nepotistic endeavor.

Even had she not told them that she had a new project in the few moons leading up to today’s session, it was increasingly clear that she had been keeping something of substantive purport from them all. It had been a trial, not getting swept up in Aymeric’s idle curiosity in the quiet moments between meetings, but Artoirel had persevered in maintaining an air of disinterest.

At least the wait was almost at an end. 

“They told you naught of what this proposal will be?” Artoirel had asked once they had been seated.

“Absolutely nothing. I was only told of her intent to bring a proposal to the floor, but naught else.” Aymeric answered.

The risers they had found seats in were in the ideal spot to observe both sides of court while remaining on the fringes of its halo of light. Aymeric had expressed relief that they might be afforded some small privacy from their position, and Artoirel was inclined to agree with the assessment.

It was privacy they found themselves immediately grateful for when the looming doors at the end of the hallway opened, their creaking groans announcement that the petitioner had arrived.

All stood as a show of respect for the petitioner. Her brother and betrothed were no exceptions.

A knight held each door open as Serella entered, though she thanked them both as she crossed the threshold.

The cane in her hand thumped particularly loudly when compared to her soft footfalls, though her limp was substantively better than it had been in months of recovery. Though she moved with some care, it was clear that this was not a bad pain day.

Beside him, Aymeric murmured a prayer of gratitude to Halone for that. Artoirel hissed an, “amen,” in time with him just as Serella reached the stand and set what looked like a portfolio binder in front of her.

When she looked up to signal she was prepared, the Speaker for the House of Commons smiled and stood from her seat.

“We bid you welcome, Ser Arcbane,” she greeted with a polite incline of her head, “and as we understand it, you have come with a proposal.”

“Thank you—and yes, if I may begin?” Serella asked, already opening the document organizer.

With the two Houses in agreement, she looked up at those gathered officials and evenly met their gaze.

“The People’s Republic of Ishgard has fought for every sunrise since the dawn of the Dragonsong War. Even after peace was achieved—with Dravania and Garlemald both—Ishgard still must rebuild and renew. But even such victories come at a much higher cost than they ought: for nearing a decade now, the people have had to claw themselves out of the snow and ice every day just to see the sun.”

At that, she leaned on her cane and used it to turn carefully toward the crowd as she asked, “Who among you recalls what it felt like to run barefoot through the grass? Do you remember the last time you could? For those who lived and worked in the sweeping fields of Coerthas, do you not mourn the memory of wheat brushing your fingertips? The gentle hum of honey hives? Have you not ceded enough of yourselves to Calamity?”

The crowd began to murmur amongst themselves even as she turned back to the court with a thump of her cane and continued, “Given all that we have accomplished in spite of every trial, I cannot help but wonder how much further still we could go should we find a solution to this problem.”

A smile crept up on Serella’s face, then. Artoirel knew its like: it was that same smile that had won over gods and conquered tyrants, that had him concede his pride to welcome her as sister, that had thawed Aymeric’s heart that she might hold it.

With the same confidence she had carried with her to the edge of the stars, she tipped her chin up as she said, “and I believe we might have it.”

Beside him, Aymeric gasped in time with Artoirel. The Lord Speaker glanced at him as if in disbelief. Mayhap it was, to a point; Aymeric had often said—to anyone who would listen and half that would not, frankly—that spring returned to Ishgard the moment his betrothed had crossed the Arc of the Worthy. Surely not even he had ever thought it would be quite so literal.

That whispering in the pews quickly rose to a buzzing. From where they were seated, the silhouettes of the gathered masses whorled and tangled like a swarm of bees in their hive.

Swarming which stopped with a series of three sharp cracks of a gavel strike. Almost immediately, those gathered fell silent as a crypt.

“Ser Arcbane,” spoke a representative from the House of Lords, “what you propose is no small thing—even were we to agree that such a feat was viable, what would you ask of Ishgard in exchange?”

“Permission to research it. Naught more.” Serella answered, producing a series of documents and holding them aloft to be transferred to the Houses for inspection. “Myself and a team of aetherologists, astrologians, and scholars have been discussing the theory—it is sound, but untested. We would seek to delve into Azys Lla to obtain more information and run small-scale tests safely, away from anywhere on Eitherys. Based on what recordings and technological advances that have thus far been discovered there, the Allagans not only recorded all of history prior to their downfall, but the station continued to automatically record for centuries thereafter—aether levels of Eitherys included, catalogued by region and era.”

“Meaning…” rasped a member of the House of Commons as the implications fully sunk in.

“But surely such a venture would have immense costs on the city—and not just monetarily!” said a Lord.

“I do not ask for coin." Serella answered. "Those researchers that have worked with me have been fairly compensated elsewise, will continue to be fairly compensated elsewise, and joined for the knowledge to better the world with besides.

"As for the risk: I will not gainsay the enormity of what I request. Failure could be catastrophic, and for more than just Ishgard, potentially. Which is why I only propose a start: to gather and review the data, to see exactly what can be done. At such a time, if our findings and tests prove the theory to be sound and safe for all involved, I would then request to enact it.”

The Houses of the Lords and Commons almost immediately fell into each other, delegates on both sides of the table leaning toward one another in a rare show of mutual, if tentative excitement.

After a short eternity, Aymeric’s counterpart in the House of Commons waited for her colleagues to return to their respective spots before beginning to speak.

“We have yet to review your initial findings and put it to vote, of course,” she began, “but ere we do, I believe I speak for not just those to either side of me here, but for all those present when I ask: why?”

“Why?” Serella gawked with an arched brow.

“Your philanthropic work is well documented, and I for one fail to see the merit in bringing it into question— ‘tis more a personal curiosity that I am confident at least a few here also share.”

For a moment, Serella tilted her head and considered the question. 

Slowly, she answered, “In truth, my reasons are threefold: the foremost being that this feels a natural extension of other work I have done—here in Ishgard, as well as elsewhere. The data found in Azys Lla can also potentially aid all of Eorzea, if not Eitherys for all we know. I do not intend to scrap the things that are unrelated to our initial focus.

“Moreover: it is no secret I am betrothed to the Lord Speaker. I once asked him: ‘what do you consider a luxury in Ishgard that is not considered one anywhere else.’ His answer was simple and yet poignant to me. “An open window,” he said. What an encapsulation of how Ishgard’s people are routinely denied simple pleasures.

“But in truth, I have a more selfish reason aside from all that: I promised him spring. I should like to offer it as a wedding gift.”

At that, the air in the room grew thin from the collective gasp, though all that hushed murmuring was silent.

It was impossible not to glance over at Aymeric in that moment, though Artoirel was fairly confident that he was far from the one one whose attention so shifted. 

For his part, the Lord Speaker stared at his beloved, eyes wide with awe and filmed with the sheen of unshed tears. Though he had brought a hand over his mouth, it was clear through his splayed fingers that his jaw hung agape as his lips quivered.

The Houses called for a recess to deliberate, as they did for every matter brought for a vote. Artoirel had to gently guide his friend away with a hand at his back, twisting sharply down a hall accessible only to those in office to afford them some privacy. Bathed in the light of the setting sun, it almost felt warm. 

They had barely cleared the doorway into a private office before Aymeric’s whole body stuttered in a barely-repressed sob. 

“They never needed to,” Aymeric whispered in a thick, cracking voice. “They never needed to even try, but—”

“Such is not her way,” Artoirel said, awkwardly rubbing his back as he added, “I should think you might love her less if she tried any less—”

“Never,” Aymeric immediately rasped, his throat tightening around a sob he tried to swallow. “I could never love her less, I—”

With no armor to conceal or impede him, he began to crumple into himself before Artoirel wordlessly pulled him into the crook of his shoulder. Through the fabric of Artoirel’s coat and his own tears, Aymeric mumbled, “I love them so fucking much.”

The Lord Speaker did not dissolve into open weeping, but after a few minutes of silent, hiccuping gasps, he righted himself with a red, splotchy face he scrubbed dry. Together, he and Artoirel returned to the courtroom with a shoulder thoroughly soaked on his coat, and neither made mention of either. 

Even with two of their number recused, the Houses approval passed almost unanimously.

[buoyfriend]

The WoL Catches A Cold *a-choo* - feat. The Ishgard Elf Husbands, G'raha Tia, Ardbert, Hien & Zenos

@eidechsejaspis asked:

Hello again:)

As new season of coughs ans sneezes approaches I have a question of how would Scions (choose any you like), Aymeric and Zenos (where would we go without him?) react on WoL catching serious cold? Time period is at your liking from Heavenward to adventures in Garlemald:)

Thank you in advance:)

It is sniffles season again! Thank you for asking, this was a really fun one to get back into HC writing with!

Aymeric

In moments you think he's not watching, he is. He adores the way you wince when reading an unpleasant part of a book, how you fidget in Alliance meetings, even the little whistle of your snore. Aymeric notices your first sneeze. It's hard to get allergies in Coerthas, and he recognizes the hacking from your lungs a few days later. This comes for everyone sooner or later, and politely asks you to quarantine yourself for a few days.

He isn't one to miss work to care for a sick partner or spouse but has a very attentive nurse stationed nearby

He has given his full itinerary for the next several days so he can be alerted as soon as you wake up from a much needed, multi-day sleep

Aymeric wouldn't argue that he knows cooking well, but he does make a point to assist in the kitchen after work to make sure that you have soup recommended by the best chirugeon available

He will dodge kisses from you for days to avoid becoming sick himself, but it's too late anyways

When Aymeric finds himself bedridden for a few days, he decides that it was worthwhile to give you that forehead kiss as you slept

Estinien

Estinien is familiar with sickness. Long campaigns through the newly snowy Coerthas as a young knight taught him much of seasonal illnesses. He's seen many a friend drink their weight in bitter root soups, gnaw on wild herbs, and the like to push through it until they can get home. He's seen you sick before. Still, he has some lingering anxiety. You looked far worse than a little aetheryte sickness. He's lost much and more, the thought nags at him that more concern might be warranted.

Estinien has his hands full with travel these days and assures you that he will indeed make it to tea with Vritra tomorrow afternoon

He does not make it to tea with Vritra

Estinien deftly slips into the bedroom but there was no need, you had been out cold for hours by then

He would like to keep his friend from waiting, but not until he's sure that your breathing is steady and your temperature not too high

What a sight to see! Had you been awake, you might have heard Estinien's dress shoes pacing along the floor, his hand nearly to his linkpearl while paralyzed by indecision on whether to cancel or not

He cautiously leaves a glass of water and your linkpearl on the bedside table, just in case, though he may never admit that it was he who placed both there

When he does return home, perhaps an hour earlier than expected, he denies all concern as he settles into bed beside you

Haurchefant

While he's not a sadist, Haurchefant absolutely loves the sight of you ill. You're always off somewhere, but for this small bubble of time, you're here. You're sipping hot chocolate and letting him read poetry to you rather than mailing it off to some distant locale. He can watch your tired face grin and sigh rather than imagining it alone from Camp Dragonhead.

His favorite thing to make for you, of course. Hot chocolate, every day you're sick. No matter how hard it is to get chocolate in Coerthas, no matter how many tall tales he must tell to provision it, you wake up to hot chocolate beside your bed every morning.

"You don't need caffeine, anyways, you need something calming and a smile."

He knows he'll get sick if he sleeps next to you every night, but he's forewarned Camp Dragonhead. Emmanellain can hold his seat for a fortnight, it could be good practice for him.

Haurchefant watches you sleep, sliding his hand under the covers to grasp yours. For once, the cuts and bruises all over you are starting to heal. Days off the road, finally given rest. He wishes you both had more days like this.

G'raha Tia

Just as your new adventures together have begun, you fail to keep up. You run a little slower, stopping after a few paces to lean into a cough, heavy sneezes punctuating the blows you attempt to land on monsters. G'raha is quick to notice but slow to bring it up.

He frets, wringing his hands beside you as you ready yourself for the day, struggling to put on your clothes. As you sigh in failure, dropping yourself onto the bed, G'raha can't help himself.

"You can admit you're sick. I know you've been on the road for a long time. Even with the help of your friends, the path you walk is a lonely one. But you're not alone this time. Let yourself rest and let me take care of the other things that come along?"

G'raha fields the many requests sent your way, trying his best to fulfill them, wondering how you do it all at full health.

In quieter moments, he finds his way to The Last Stand to get your favorite dinner, absolutely purring as he watches your sleepy smile. Alas, your sense of smell is back! You knew exactly what he'd brought you as soon as he opened the bag!

He can't help but laugh to himself as you find yourself exhausted from the walk from your bed to the dining table, cracking jokes about his hero losing the greatest battle thus far.

G'raha's excitement knows no bounds when you announce that you're well enough to continue your travels together. The ruddy cheeks, the soft ear wiggle. No sickness can stop his hero for long.

Ardbert

(Assuming Ardbert is no longer a ghost!)

Ardbert is restless. He hasn't seen an open field, a forest, an ocean in days. He wonders if it's unsupportive to ask if you'd mind if he pops out for a fishing trip tomorrow. Perhaps if you're a little better in the morning?

He's not heartless, he left some hot tea beside your bed and made sure your medicines were in reach.

Though he did have some guilt by the third hour of his fishing adventure. The pangs of guilt grew until an idea sprouted from them.

He racked his mind as he navigated the markets. He had enough fish, but the right peppers...which peppers were correct. Tomatoes. Cream. Potatoes. Something was missing, some spice.

Ardbert has made a mess of things. He has put out the kitchen fire, somehow there are no more clean pots and pans. Yet, the soup is complete! It was his mother's recipe, it always had him right as rain after a day or so.

Though you tried your best to hold a straight face, the soup was...I don't know if it's fair to call it a soup. He looks absolutely crushed.

You fall asleep while he strokes your hair, his head pressed against yours as he told you stories. About Kholusia, fishing for cod with his father, his mother's miracle soup. He asks what they made where you're from, but it's too late. You've already drifted off, dreaming about magic fish.

Oddly enough, from a couple of sips of Ardbert's attempted soup, you feel some measure better. He, on the other hand, has the same horrible wheezing cough you had a day before.

Hien

Hien is not the biggest believer in staying bedridden in a sealed room while sick. He frowns, hating to see you suffer, but a thought springs to mind as he twirls your lank, sweaty hair between his fingers.

The clean air of the Azim Steppe is just as promised. During the day, he haggles in the markets for the best Dzo to make stews, the best leaves to make tea. All while you watch the clouds pass from the hammock outside of your yurt.

It's hard to leave the hammock, not only for the comfort. Where else could you see so many stars? Hien points to his favorites, the brightest, the funniest shapes some constellations make.

There wasn't much for entertainment, but watching Hien in the distance sparring with friends was a welcome sight.

After a few days, he encourages you to come with him. On a little walk, at least. Another day, just a little spar. How do you know you're well if you don't test your skills?

The break from all the noise, the responsibilities, becomes intoxicating to you after some time. Hien never has to rush to some meeting, you never need to leave to be flung at a new problem.

You've been better for a week now, finding yourself testing your sharpness with Hien and his friends every morning. Though you may have been hesitant to travel while sick, the time spent together was precious. Perhaps next time you won't have to be sick to convince yourself to take a break.

Zenos

He's seen you weakened before, brought to your knees by your own frailty. It disappoints him and yet, he's fascinated by it in a way he doesn't quite understand. How could someone so pitiful occupy every hour of his day?

Zenos doesn't agree with the chirugeon, you could power through this with sheer force of will and merely shrugs as the medicines are set on the table.

This could not be what ends the object of his obsession, his first friend. He regularly checks that you're still breathing. He leans in too close to hear that your heart is still beating, only to be rewarded by a wheezing cough into his hair.

His size is quite the advantage, it's not a challenge for him to carry you from place to place. He leans low to the ground, scooping you up as the sight of you exhausted from standing up only leaves him with disgust.

Still, when you fall asleep each night, he leans his head to your chest. Your heart still beats, your skin glittering with sweat. He knew he would see you like this on another day, performing the great feats that brought him to you in the first place. Though he never understood your reasons, he knew you'd be back to fighting the mesmerizing fights that led the two of you here. To share a bed, a home, a life.