#edmont de fortemps x wol

[koukouture]

Count Edmont meeting WOL for the first time probably: Edmont: *leans over to Haurchefant, whispers* I want grand children, plural. Haurchefant: Father-! Wol: ?

[morganali-art]

"... For Ishgardian courtship always begins with flowers."

-------

I've been rotating the quote above in my head at work all day - it's from a multiship fic I've been enjoying called "The Arc of the Heavens | Heavensturn, Beloved" by AO3 author OGMadster ( @theworldwalkerswols ). New headcanon accepted, as they say :3

My gremlin Charlemend cracks me up, I kept zooming out of my canvas and seeing him and laughing 😂

Here are some close ups, I know my handwriting is a little rough 👀💦

[starrysnowdrop]

FFXIVWrite 2024 #2: Horizon

Noun: the line or circle that forms the apparent boundary between earth and sky.

Sometime between the events of patches 5.5 and 6.0; While walking around the Pillars of Ishgard, Lord Edmont observes Lord Aymeric as the latter watches the setting sun.

As I finished my shopping in the Jeweled Crozier and began walking back towards the Manor, I witnessed a familiar sight: Lord Aymeric, standing on one of the many balconies of the Pillars while looking out past the snowy peaks of Coerthas towards the horizon. To any outside observer, one would assume that the Lord Commander was merely watching the beautiful sunset, as the firey hues of the setting sun set the sky ablaze.

But others would not see what I have seen so many times whenever Lord Aymeric was out making his rounds of the city. They would not see the pensive gleam in his eyes, the wistful countenance, the melancholic longing as he looked out towards lands unseen.

No, he was not merely watching a beautiful sunset. His mind was focused upon his love, the lalafellin woman who had stolen his heart and had run off on adventures to far off lands and otherworldly places that he could scarcely imagine.

So many times I have seen Lord Aymeric standing there, pining for her, wondering what she was doing in that same moment, wishing he was there with her, though his duty would not allow him to follow in her wake. Over the past few years, I have lost count of how many times I see him standing there, silently and patiently awaiting his beloved’s return.

Never once has his heart wavered. Lord Aymeric is among the most eligible bachelors in all of Ishgard, and though he has received so many offers of arranged marriages from so many of the noble houses, he has refused them all. But they do not understand him. They do not know that he is already spoken for, though even Mistress Hali Aloke herself is completely unaware of it.

I wonder… how much longer will it take for Lord Aymeric to finally speak the truth? What is it going to take for him to finally go after the woman he loves, and allow himself to have the love, companionship, and happiness that she would bring to his life? Will the world have to threaten to stop spinning before he allows himself to live the life that he dreams of?

All I wish is for Lord Aymeric and Mistress Hali to show each other how much they love one another; I wish for their happiness as if they were my own children. I hope and I pray that day comes sooner rather than later, as I will not be around forever, and I so desperately wish to see them both happy together after too many years apart and so much sacrifice for the greater good.

Lord Aymeric deserves to look out towards the horizon with a genuine, content, serene smile as he makes his way home to see his lady love after a long day.

[redwayfarers]

Radiant

[juweldom]

Ch. 20: A Grand Tour

The Heart of the Song - Chapter 20 - Juwelz - Final Fantasy XIV [Archive of Our Own]

Vallerin finally arrives in Ishgard. Also, a dinner with the family.

[sharlayandropout]

Soiree

'Here we are...home from home.'

'I...must confess to being somewhat nervous. 'Tis something akin to meeting one's lifelong hero and one's partner's father all at once.'

'You'll be just fine...my Lord. After you.'

Fic snippet below!

G’raha’s eyes swam with reverence as she introduced him to the former Count, his voice hushed and hurried. ‘‘Tis an honour beyond words to make your acquaintance, Lord Edmont. Never did I dream that I might one day meet the author of the work which has had such profound influence on my life, and the lives of so many others.’  

Zefiris bit her lip; this wasn’t the first time G’raha’s enthusiasm had got the better of him in such a way. Lord Edmont quirked an eyebrow, and responded with polite confusion. ‘Although I appreciate that a Sharlayan scholar of history might take a particular interest in the events which concluded the Dragonsong War,  I would not think the work has been so widely circulated yet as to have afforded anyone time for more than a secondary reading at the most, let alone the degree of influence you propose.’

‘Ahh…’ G’raha faltered, ears flattened, realising his mistake.

‘My Lord,’ Zefiris said smoothly, coming to his rescue, ‘I hope the fire is stoked in the drawing room, and the wine cellar well stocked, for we have quite a tale for you this evening after we’ve dined.’

G’raha regained his stride as they sat down to dinner. His manners were utterly impeccable; he quite put her to shame, and she found herself following his cues more often than not, even here in what has been an adoptive family home to her, in many ways. How quickly she’d forgotten that he’d been a hundred years a statesman, a diplomat; completely at his ease with the polite talk of trade and polity that inevitably came of dining with a Lord. Far more than she would ever be herself, that much was certain. Zefiris found herself more spectator than participant in the conversation; she would drop a word here or there, or laugh politely at a joke from Emmanellain, but it was G’raha who held her fascinated; his words, his voice, his clever turns of phrase or sudden insights, as if she did not hear them all a hundred times a day.

They retired to the drawing room afterwards, and Lord Edmont listened, rapt, as G’raha told the tale from its beginning; the Eighth Umbral calamity, the First, their eventual return to the Source. Zefiris interjected only rarely, at times when G’raha’s habitual humility threatened the integrity of the story, or when he realised his audience, and his ears would begin to flutter nervously, heat creeping up his neck. 

Wicked White, you did those things, Raha, she thought, as enthralled as the others as she listened.  That was you. Is you. All of this is you. The tense domesticity of their lives over the past few months had made her forget so readily it shocked her to shame. Little, petty arguments, minor resentments that she had allowed to insidiously dull her vision of this man whom she loved so dearly; blinding her into taking him for granted.

All night she listened thus, and nursed the tender burn in her chest.

[orime-stories]

Expressions of Grief

Aurelle Silmontier - Final Fantasy XIV

(Heavensward Spoilers in Initial Blurb)

-

Everyone is grieving the life lost at the Vault, each in their own way. And some of those ways are more compatible than others. Full story below the cut. (1411 words) Previous Story / Next Story / Read on AO3 / Tumblr Masterlist

-

The dignified silhouette of Count Edmont stood before them, his back to them, cane clutched tightly in his hand. Beseeching them in controlled bursts of speech to leave, to press on with their mission and avenge his son. His hurt ringing all the more loudly through his valiant efforts to stifle it.

Time stilled as everyone stood there in silence, rooted in their own pain. Desperately trying to squeeze that pain down, afraid to learn how much might be left in ashes were the roiling conflagrations given opportunity to spread beyond each person and combine.

It was Alphinaud that broke the silence in the end, with a simple condolence, words and dialogue always having been his comfort. But carefully chosen as they were, those words rippled out beyond themselves. Everyone shuddering against the impact.

Count Edmont’s cane clattered to the tiled floor, metal against stone flinching through Aurelle as it did. As he sank to his knees and began to weep, proud posture sagging, shoulders heaving. And everyone just stood there and watched.

If Alphinaud could not abide silences, Aurelle could not abide this. She moved to the side of the man that had welcomed her so warmly into his home. That they had failed so utterly. Kneeling down, she folded an arm across his shaking back.

“We should reconvene at the Congregation,” Alphinaud faltered. “We should discuss our next move with Ser Aymeric.”

“I’ll meet you there,” she responded flatly.

“Are you—”

“I’ll meet you there.”

His mouth closed and he nodded once, averting his eyes. “We shall wait for you.”

And once they had all left, she pressed her forehead against the Count’s shoulder and wept with him.

—

She perched herself on one of the seats before Aymeric’s desk as the others filtered back out of his office, their meeting concluded. He was back in his armour, and giving no sign that he had so recently endured what the Echo had seen fit to show her but moments ago. The callous words Thordan had so clearly wounded him with. The jeers of the Heavens’ Ward as they began their ‘questioning’. The first gauntleted fist smashing into his abdomen, mercifully all she was forced to watch before the present returned to her, head pounding with the strain of yet more tears, and Alphinaud’s hand a steady pressure on the small of her back.

A pressure she was sorely feeling the absence of now.

“I… We’re not at your home,” she began once they were safely alone. “So I can’t… I can’t touch you here, can I?”

He shook his head in confirmation, the measured gaze of the Lord Commander still firm on his features.

“I hate this,” she choked against the sting. “I hate this so much. How am I supposed to—” Deep breaths. Pinpricks at the corner of her eyes even so, voice wobbling. “Please don’t make me go out there.”

She saw the heartbreak flinch through his eyes then, before he closed them to smother the feeling. To regain his composure. To choose to be sensible in a world that had long stopped making any sense at all. To tell her that he had no choice but to send her away, and she no choice but to go out there and fight what no-one else could. Again.

“Aurelle…”

“I just wish you would’ve told me,” she tried instead. “How much danger you were putting yourself in. I had no idea, but everyone else seemed… I wish you would’ve told me.”

His head dipped in sombre acknowledgement. “I did not wish to give doubt a chance to undo my resolve,” he explained with a calm she wanted to bristle at. “Confronting my father was the right thing to do. Even were it at the cost of my life.”

“Why would you gamble that?” she almost wailed. “Why would you gamble that without even telling me.”

Another measured breath. Another infuriatingly rational set of explanations slotting into place upon his Commander’s tongue. “I would give my life in a heartbeat if it ensured the safety and prosperity of this city,” he said with that conviction she had so admired in him. “I have sworn to serve, and I do not make hollow oaths. And ‘tis important I lay that truth explicitly down before you, that you may operate without illusion, and make your choices accordingly. I live for Ishgard, and as such my priorities… I imagine they are difficult for anyone seeking a certain, closeness, with me to accept. Something I would never demand of you. Of anyone.” He took another steadying breath. “Therefore, if you would rather—”

“Don’t,” she flinched. “Please. Please don’t take this from me. Not today.”

Guilt flashed across his eyes. But this time it softened into a sorrow that persisted there despite himself. “Aurelle… For what little such sentiments may be worth… I am sorry. For the pain I have caused you, I—” He swallowed. “In the end… ‘twas not my own life I gambled, was it?”

Slumping back in her seat. Utterly, utterly lost. Haurchefant had always known how to pull her back to the warmth of the hearth in moments like this. With his fierce hugs and his easy smile that held nothing back. That did not care what other people thought, that loved so easily and so openly.

She felt none of that in this room.

She needed to see her grief mirrored in the people around her. She needed to be touched, to be reassured, to be shown the boundaries of her pain. She needed to scream. Until the cold, dark walls of the Congregation shattered. Until this whole rotten city and its sea of icy masks sank back into the abyss it had dared crawl out of. She needed…

“I need to go.” She rose to her feet, eyes burning with angry tears that would have their way soon enough, headache be damned.

“I wish that it were not so,” he offered softly, gaze now fixed on the desk before him.

He was hurting too, she reminded herself. He was hurting he just didn’t know how to show it. Grasping for the last threads of her sanity, determined to leave some kindness in parting before seeking her solitude. Before releasing her grip to watch the pieces of her scatter where they may.

“I’m glad you’re not… I’m glad you’re okay,” she said gently, sincerely. She needed him to know that part, and it had gone too long unsaid.

His gaze remained fixed on the desk, motionless and silent. For just long enough that she wondered whether he was going to respond at all.

But finally, his eyes lifted to meet hers one last time. And she saw in them a man at utter war with himself. “We shall speak again soon,” was all he managed.

And so she left him to that war, hoping that her absence might at least better soothe the flames.

—

In the end she didn’t get very far. Struck motionless at the edge of the Pillars, looking out over the dark expanse that was Coerthas. That was Dragonhead. Jumping out of her skin when familiar armoured footfalls approached.

“I know,” she sighed morosely. “We need the Warrior of Light.” Not the wilting flower.

“Forget that,” Estinien growled. “Recall instead the time I reminded Alphinaud that you were not merely a weapon to be pointed at his enemies.”

“I’m not sure Aymeric heard that particular talk,” she replied tonelessly.

“Then I shall make sure he hears it. And I shall not mince my words.”

“He’s right though. I don’t have a choice any more than he does. If I stand aside the city falls.”

“You do not stand alone. We shall face Thordan together, and we shall fell him as we did Nidhogg.”

“He’s attempting a Summoning. You’ll get tempered.”

“Not if my lance pierces his skull first.” His simplicity was a balm. “He shall die for what he did to the Lord Commander. For what he did to you.”

She turned then to give him a puzzled look. “He didn’t—”

“He took from you. And he shall die for it,” he vowed. “Now go back to Fortemps Manor. Rest. Gather your strength for the morn.” And then after a beat where she did not answer. “Do not make me employ force.”

She didn’t think Estinien one for idle threats. So she gave one last heart-weary sigh and then obediently turned and dragged her feet towards the manor.

[morganali-writes]

An unexpected development

The halls of the Fortemps estate were dark as the former Count, Lord Edmont de Fortemps, made his way towards his chambers – and no less quiet. It was the comfortable hush of household at rest. As he walked, he was startled then to hear the quiet murmur of voices. Most of the servants should have long since retired, late as it was. Curiosity piqued, he snuffed out the candle he carried between the pinch of his fingers and set it aside. He crept towards the adjoining hallway as quietly as an old man could, hesitating before the corridor's intersection.

“—dnight, Mistress Sombreterre,” came the quiet voice of his son.

“Artoirel…” A pause. “You are always so formal with me when we chance to talk alone – did you not instruct your own staff to treat me as family?” The Warrior of Light hesitated, then continued, her voice softer than before.

“Won’t you call me by my name, then?” A telling silence fell between them, and Lord Edmont held his breath despite himself.

“You are right, of course. Forgive me,” came his son’s reply after what seemed an interminable age. “Goodnight then, Cessalie.” His voice was little more than a whisper, but there was a reverence in his tone that was unmistakable. Neither of them made to move. Where once Edmont had been entirely ready to retire for the evening, he was suddenly wide awake.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Her voice was bright, but tremulous. “I… like the way my name sounds when you say it. Would you mind terribly if I told you that I– I like a great many things about you?"

“I shouldn’t mind that at all… Cessalie, may I tell you something—”

“—Please.”

“Oh... Cessalie, I... I’ve grown very fond of you. Mayhap moreso than is wise." He took a breath, and his next words seemed to tumble out in a rush. "Forgive me, but I did fear you might not regard me quite as fondly and did not wish to discomfort you." There was a flutter of laughter at that, so quiet that he nearly did not catch it.

"I knew that should I treat you with the same easy familiarity my brothers seem to excel at, my own regard for you would be plainly writ across my countenance for all to see.”

“Then you do not wish to regard me as merely a sister?” There was a teasing note to her voice, and Edmont could just about imagine the coy smile she must have worn.

“I— No. No, I do not.”

A pause laden with expectation hung heavy in the air. A moment later, he thought he heard a quiet shuffling, followed by a curious thud. A wry smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as their quiet gasps for breath echoed down the hall a few moments again later.

“Sweet, serious Artoirel…” Cessalie murmured, and his son huffed out a quiet laugh.

“Dearest Cessalie…” Somewhere in the distance, the hour chimed – two bells past midnight. Inwardly, Edmont sighed.

“Gods, is that the time?” Cessalie said, dismayed. “Though I regret to say it, we truly ought to retire. Good night then, Artoirel...”

“Good night, Cessalie – dear Cessalie.”

At last, Edmont heard the scrape of her chamber door open and the solid clunk as the door latched closed once more, but it was still long moments before his son deigned to move from where he stood. Once roused however, his eldest swept down the hall and by him without acknowledgement – undoubtedly lost in a world of his own musings. Shaking his head, Edmont smiled to himself and finally turned to make his way back to his own chambers.

--------------------------

I had started thumbnailing this as a comic, but I absolutely couldn't figure out the pacing without a solid grasp of their conversation, so I had to comit it to writing first. Anyway, another one for the project list :)

[cinnabun-faerie]

FFXIV {May 2022 Masterlist}

✧Group HC & Reactions✧

F!WoL singing Girls/Girls/Boys (Lyna, Minfilia, Y'shtola, Ysayle)

WoL buying a house in Ishgard (Aymeric, Estinien, Haurchefant, Lucia)

WoL being taller than them (Aymeric, Emet-Selch, Estinien, Fandaniel, G'raha Tia, Thancred, Y'shtola, Zenos)

Sick WoL (Aymeric, Urianger)

Miqo'te!WoL who bunts & purrs subconsciously when they're around (Ardbert, Artoirel, Erenville, Gaius)

Worst moments ffxiv character could confess to the WoL / Asking the WoL to marry them (Haurchefant, Emet-Selch, Urianger)

Fandom Dads - He escorts you down the aisle (Barbatos, Edmont de Fortemps, Estinien, Lucifer, Shota Aizawa, Simeon, Thancred, All Might, Urianger)

Special Threesome HCs (Zenos x Reader x Fandaniel)

They comfort the WoL after they receive some bad news (Emet-Selch, Urianger)

Antagonists & the films they'd choose for movie nights (Emet-Selch, Fandaniel, Hermes, Zenos)

How they'd protect their beloved WoL if they met someone who made them feel uncomfortable (Artoirel, Aymeric, Estinien, Haurchefant, Hythlodaeus, Urianger)

How they’d handle the Ishgardians' negativity towards genderfluid!WoL

WoL that absolutely loves picking fights with others for the sake of thrill or battle glory (Alisaie, Alphinaud, Estinien, G'raha Tia, Thancred, Urianger, Y'shtola, Zenos)

WoL gives them a flower crown (Alisaie, Alphinaud, Estinien, G'raha Tia, Thancred, Urianger, Y'shtola)

Tank!WoL is reckless yet protective of their S/O (Alphinaud, Urianger)

✧Solo HC & Reactions✧

G’raha with a Miqo’te WoL S/O

Crystal Exarch realizes that the WoL is using his old bow he left behind when he sealed himself away in the tower

WoL misses Alphinaud so much that they pay him a visit in Garlemald

Estinien Proposal HCs

Aymeric Proposal HCs

WoL finding out Y'shtola can purr

Artoirel Proposal HCs

Alphinaud Proposal HCs

Whenever Miqo'te!WoL and Y'shtola sit together, their tails unconsciously wrap around the other's

Haurchefant Proposal HCs

G'raha Tia Proposal HCs

Emet-Selch playing Neath Dark Waters for the WoL

Y'shtola Proposal HCs

Alphinaud reacts to an Asexual WoL

With a demisexual lover who confesses to their crush, who doesn’t care/is using them

Alphinaud with a sick S/O

Fandaniel Proposal HCs

Zenos Proposal HCs

Urianger Proposal HCs

Thancred Proposal HCs

Gaius Proposal HCs

Erenville Proposal HCs

[lovehotelreservation]

House Whortemps

Summary: Tonight, you would be treated by House Fortemps for a lavish meal. If only you, the Count, and his sons were aware of how quickly the evening would devolve into a sinful, debaucherous ordeal.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Reader/Haurchefant, Reader/Artoirel, Reader/Emmanellain, Reader/Edmont

It was time for dinner in Ishgard as the city-state was bathed in moonlight.

Within House Fortemps there was a feast spread on the dinner table, culinary delicacies and fanciful wonders alike.

Count Edmont would be joined by his three sons, with all four in their best dress.

After all, at this dinner, they would be joined by you, the Warrior of Light, their dearest guest.

You had much to share, having returned from a month-long excursion in lands beyond.

Your tales and excursions through Ala Mhigo and Doma--Count Edmont was most especially fond.

And surely, his sons were intrigued to hear about what you had gotten up to.

But with that alluring dress of yours hugging every curve, the three wondered how they could get a better view.

It certainly did not help that during dinner you were being quite the tease.

Artoirel, Haurchefant, Emmanellain--you had all three wrapped around your finger with ease.

From your extensive history together, it did not take much for you to capture Haurchefant’s gaze.

Especially when you were looking right into his eyes as your tongue licked your lips clean of creamy glaze.

Never to lose out on having your attention to himself, Emmanellain did what he could to have your attention turn towards his direction.

Particularly arching his hips forward while the bottom of your heel traveled ever so lightly over his hardened erection.

Reserved and chaste as he was, Artoirel was certainly no fool.

Seeing his younger brothers behave so perversely during dinner was making him lose his cool.

With harsh glares and even harsher curses under his breath, Artoirel tried to discreetly get his siblings to cease.

Only to refrain when his wine glass accidentally tipped over, a river of burgundy soon spilling onto his lap and seat.

Ever the hero, you quickly rose up to save the day.

With napkin in hand, you sought to pat the liquid away.

However.

Your goodwill and concern was betrayed by the mischievous look on your face.

Slowly and surely, your hand dragged the napkin over his crotch at a deliberate pace.

Artoirel was at a loss for words, his face quickly becoming hot.

All while his brothers looked on enviously, any efforts to catch your attention once more all for naught.

Beneath your touch, the eldest son of House Fortemps felt his cock becoming stiff and erect.

But what soon transpired afterwards was something even you didn’t expect.

“Surely, you will always be a welcomed guest to this family--but I’d rather not see such your naughty wickedness continue to befuddle my kin.”

Having dismissed all servants a moment before, Count Edmont had spoken up, his eyes twinkling, well aware of your sin.

Artoirel, Haurchefant, Emmanellain were wide-eyed and slack jawed, all words at a loss.

The three watched as their father beckoned you over, your dress soon stripped off and thrown away by him in a toss.

With not a thread of clothing on your body, you sat upon Edmont’s lap, your bold brazen actions now subdued.

The Count’s hands proceeded to part your thighs, your body fully exposed and presented as a sight so utterly lewd.

Before the eyes of his sons, Edmont cupped your breasts, his fingers twisting and toying your nipples with a touch well experienced.

His other hand descended between your legs, his palm pressing onto and caressing your core, soon drawing forth moans from your lips that became louder in cadence.

But for as skillfully sinful that his fingers were, Edmont meant for this to be a means to reprimand.

While laying you across his lap and spanking your ass would have been ideal, he chose a different method: more and more he would bring you closer to orgasm, making certain to not allow you to release, if only to drive you mad.

With the Warrior of Light crumbling so easily by the lascivious touch of Edmont, his sons continued to watch on, all overwhelmed by desire.

For all the respect and love he had for his father, Haurchefant was becoming all the more determined and eager to surpass him, the need to join his body with yours while pouring his seed inside your core roaring deep within his chest like fire.

A shocking revelation to witness but one to bear nonetheless, Emmanellain made notes within his mind to follow after Edmont’s masterful techniques, wishing to make you buck helplessly against his hand in an earnest attempt to make you his.

Guilt under the eyes of Halone, the weight of responsibility as the eldest of House Fortemps--Artoirel wasn’t sure how to make sense of this vicious yearning tearing through him, only that he needed to ravish you, his lips meeting yours for a kiss.

It was not much longer until Edmont felt that he had punished you enough, mindless pleasured noises and pleas for mercy escaping weakly from your mouth.

And so he finally offered what you begged, driving his long fingers into your sopping core in a swift rhythm, grinding his palm onto your clit until you were climaxing all over his hand with a breathless cry and shout.

Satisfied and content, Edmont gave you a moment to catch your breath, cradling you in his arms as he helped you up, soon guiding you over to where his sons remained.

Like a lamb led to a den of lions, you would be subjected to the lustful yearning of Artoirel, Haurchefant, and Emmanellain.

Before he passed you along to be used by his sons as they wished, Edmont took a moment to indulge himself with a kiss on your lips that was tender and sweet.

And as the middlest son quickly hoisted you over to where he and his brothers now stood, their father sat down to watch his sons truly feast.

Emmanellain and Artoirel were drawn to your breasts, the mouths of the two latching onto your nipples for them to suckle upon.

Meanwhile it was Haurchefant who took to between your thighs to lap up and savor your taste, his tongue gliding and lapping against your core in strokes most quick and long.

It did not matter which brother indulged and fancied to what.

For each would fuck you thoroughly and make you their slut.

After all, by the touch of Count Edmont alone, the mighty Warrior of Light was already reduced to a shamelessly wanton mess.

But caught in the center of three competing brothers as they vied for your affection, it would be long before you could have a moment to truly rest.

Having finally yielded to depravity he thought himself impervious against, it was Artoirel who had you on all fours as he vigorously drove his cock into you from behind.

If the eldest son was to have this way first then sure--Haurchefant and Emmanellain could wait, all while rubbing their dicks against your face, a claim on your body something both vehemently pined.

As the youngest, Emmanellain was used to being spoiled and having his way.

And while he would do what he could to please you, how could he resist from simply lying back and watching you ride his cock while you bounced away?

Haurchefant would be the one next at last.

He already had in mind to not only flood your core with his seed as he fucked you upon the marble floor, but to do the very same with your ass.

Seeing their brother get to claim both of your holes only served to ensnare Artoirel and Emmanellain with envy.

If Haurchefant was given this chance, then both should be given the same opportunity!

Fair was fair of course, with all three soon having their turn.

They would fuck you over and over until their cocks were the only things you would desperately yearn.

You were right in the middle between Haurchefant and Artoirel, both barrelling their dicks into your core and ass, all while Emmanellain saw to it that your tongue and face was coated with cum.

And onwards Edmont watched, his eyes glinting with amusement until simply observing wasn’t enough, with him soon returning to join in on the fun.

In retrospect, this dinner was simply meant to welcome you back home as their guest.

But surely, as they would encourage the following days after, they hoped that you would see House Fortemps as a permanent home for you to return to and rest.

To all of Eorzea, you were its Warrior of Light.

But to these men of House Fortemps, you were their most cherished treasure and they loved you with all their might.

[draculas-husband]

"Look father I am really tall now!"

"Very tall indeed. Very tall and very powerful."

"Even the warrior of light is no match for you, my dear boy."

"Dearest, please don't give him any ideas now..."

"Mwahaha! I am even more powerful than dad!"

I'd like you to meet a very special lad...

Florimont de Fortemps 🦄���️

---

(He is about 9 years old here so this is just a glimpse into a potential future - He is a little gremlin but I love him... I have grown attached and I don't know how to feel about it.)

[koukouture]

and more slides bc I am insane

Decided to give my WOL a fucked little love triangle lmao

[morganali-art]

Year of the OTP - November Secret Relationship (Reveal)

Usually right on the forefront of gathering information of questionable veracity, Emmanellain hears a rumour that catches him off guard.

Honoroit was trying to tell poor Emmanellain that Cessalie and Artoirel had big news to share, but he was too surprised by the rumour he'd picked up completely independently from the Ishgardian contingent returning from Ala Mhigo to listen.

[xchoco-mixturex]

Okay so im playing Heavensward and Aymeric is giving me Shang Vibes and i read something here that gsve me MORE VIBES SO

Spoilers in this incorrect quote from HW to the sprouts(?:

*Before the scene where Aymeric asks the WoL to get a drink together*

Count Edmont: *about WoL* The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.

Aymeric : Sir?

Count Edmont: *pointing where WoL was* You don't meet a person like that every century.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

First Comes The Rumor Mill

“Merciful Halone...”  Edmont watched as the Lord High Commander and Speaker of Ishgard, Aymeric de Borel, simply give in to incredulity and facepalm.

“I take it then you didn’t know?”  Asking the question was moot at this point, Edmont considered himself to be a fairly good judge of reading people’s reactions.  And in the case of Aymeric, it was clear from his body language that he had no idea...

“No.”  Aymeric lifted his head, his tone aggrieved.  Out the of the corner of one eye he noticed a House Fortemps servant cleaning a mantel, their attention certainly not fixed on the corner he and Edmont were in.  Aymeric inhaled, regaining his composure.

“I had no idea that Estinien and Riven were...together.  At all.  If anything,she always gave the impression that she respected him as an ally.”  It seemed Estinien hadn’t been the only person he’d needed to pin down and have a long chat with.  Had Riven not been in the condition she was in at current, Aymeric would have cheerfully remedied that problem. 

“Emmanellain did some asking around.  He told he he wasn’t able to completely confirm anything, but it seems the two of them have been together--or were together--for some time now.”  Edmont too, had been trying to sort out the timeline in his head.

“I should make it perfectly clear, I technically have no interest--aside from her safety of course-- in whomever she chooses to be her partner.”  He began, gesturing with his free hand.  “She is a daughter of my House yes, but as she has no desire for the nobility or Ishgardian political life, I only asked that she--if she did engage in an affair--that she be discreet and careful.”  Ironic, coming from him, Edmont judged.

“However, given the fact that well...”

“Estinien is Estinien.” Aymeric finished.  Despite being the former Azure (and keen on staying away from Ishgard--though that probably had changed now that Riven was convalescing here Aymeric suspected) Estinien was still a national hero.  He was still considered by many of the dragoons to be their leader, venerated by the people for what he had suffered to keep them safe and his personal stake in ending the Dragonsong War.  In the eyes of many, the adopted daughter of House Fortemps and the former Azure Dragoon’s pairing could be cast in a political light.  And that was before adding in Riven’s own status as the Warrior of Light and national hero.

No wonder why they were keeping it secret.  Aymeric couldn’t blame his friends one bit.  The whole thing promised to be an annoying mess if it had ever gotten publicized, and well...it had.  As Riven been disembarking from the spaceship Ragnarok, a battered and bloody mess from her fight at the edge of the universe, Estinien had scooped her up into his arms in front of all gathered in Sharlayan and had taken her to their healers, disregarding his own injuries.    The rumors had it that he’d not left her bedside, and when he’d finally relented to be treated, had requested to be as close to Riven as possible.  And Riven, surprisingly, had reciprocated...

The rumor mill had been on fire ever since. 

“You do understand however...”  Here Edmont fixed Aymeric with a steely gaze.  “that as Riven’s adopted father, I will be exercising my rights to question Wrymblood’s intentions.  Should he show up here.”

“That is within your means, yes.”  Aymeric got out, his mind filled with the mental vision of Estinien having to sit through a parental grilling from the elder Fortemps. 

“Artoirel has also expressed an interest as well.”

Merciful Halone, they’re going to flay him alive.

[juweldom]

Ch. 32: Triumphs and Regrets

The Heart of the Song - Chapter 32 - Juwelz - Final Fantasy XIV [Archive of Our Own]

The culmination of Vallerin's duty to avenge Haurchefant and bring the Archbishop and his knights to justice is the stuff of both dreams and nightmares.

(Spoilers for Heavensward 3.0 from "First Flight of the Excelsior" to "Heavensward" and a little beyond.)

I've always had a tough time writing endings, and this pretty much closes the tale on Haurchefant, so I apologize for the delay. Obviously we're not done yet, but we're getting fairly close! Thank you all for your kudos, comments, and support.

Songs featured in this chapter: (Aetherochemical Research Facility) - Peacemaker, by Green Day - The Phoenix, by Fall Out Boy - My Songs Know What You Did In the Dark, by Fall Out Boy

(Performed for House Fortemps) - Mama, by MCR - The Ghost of You, by MCR - Gone Away, The Offspring