#haurchelust

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Prompt #4 - Reticent

A full moon and a half had passed since the Warrior of Light and her two Scion allies had come to reside at Camp Dragonhead as refugees, as guests. If the hail and snow and freezing temperatures did not deter the inquiries of the Crystal Braves, the frosty demeanor of the Ishgardians surely did. And surely they were not paid handsomely enough to weather all of that.

As for Xiao and Haurchefant, they were quietly settling into a domesticity neither quite expected.

Those coals let cool to a dull red in Haurchefant’s heart, to say less about his loins, were stoked back to a burning inferno, and Xiao seemed to have limitless enthusiasm to match his own, and perhaps more. His knights were just pleased that he was… more discretionary, now that his attentions were focused exclusively with the Miqo’te as opposed to every third adventurer that was passing through for but a night. Oh, he welcomed all with open arms and the same generosity as always, but no longer with the same… enthusiasm for private meetings in his study. Or in his private quarters. Or in the baths. His retainers felt less of a need to, well, retain their lord. Oh, rumors were rumors, there would always be rumors, but rumors of the Commander of Camp Dragonhead’s… indiscretions had largely quelled because Xiao did not stir the pot with anything new. Really, the two other foundlings she had arrived with were of more interest: the princeling had a tragic air about him despite his youth, and the Lalafel was dangerously affable and competent both. No one cared to gossip about the outsider who served admirably as an unofficial Azure Dragoon; there really wasn’t much to be said about her, and she had very little to say. 

It didn’t bother Haurchefant until he started recognizing that Xiao did sometimes wish to speak. There were little tells, Xiao would purse her lips, but not as if she wished to kiss. Sometimes she would open and close her mouth repeatedly, or she would run her tongue over her teeth. Often when someone else spoke up before she could, she would momentarily look down, then compose herself again, and simply smile and nod instead.

Alphinaud and Tataru were both quite sure that Xiao was simply the strong and silent type, emphasis on both. Though when Haurchefant brought it up, Tataru did give pause.

“Truth be told, with Alphinaud and the other Scions around, Xiao had little reason to speak. And if she ever wanted anything from me, a few gestures often got the point across quicker than loosening her tongue.”

Haurchefant was familiar with that tongue, it was quite a nice tongue. There was a roughness to it that took a bit of getting used to, but she knew how to use it expertly. 

So he became determined to have her use it for speaking as well.

Alphinaud entered Haurchefant’s study promptly after knocking. As this meeting had been scheduled the night before, the knocking was merely a formality. There was a certain clarity to the air this morning that he wasn’t used to.

“You wished to see me, Commander?”

Haurchefant gestured for Alphinaud to shut the door and sit across from him in a chair. Alphinaud was never directed to the chaise, only the chair, though the chaise seemed ever more comfortable.

Alphinaud was not socially inept enough to miss the connotations, after all he had fashioned himself as quite a ladies’ man in the Studium, but his otherwise innocence led him to misguided conclusions. He knew enough that Haurchefant and Xiao had become romantically involved. He had seen Xiao lounging casually, perhaps too casually, on the chaise sometimes in the afternoon when he had need to interrupt Haurchefant’s meetings. Xiao’s hair did have the unfortunate tendency to shed, and she so often seemed to be preening in the chaise. Perhaps it was a matter of needing to brush the plush furniture of Xiao’s hair.

Haurchefant smiled in his usual warm manner, but then donned a look of concern, “Master Alphinaud, were you aware that Xiao cannot speak Eorzean Common Tongue?”

“Pardon?”

“Aye. Oh, she knows words and phrases here and there, and she of course understands the language through that Echo of hers, but she absolutely does not speak it. She can hardly formulate a sentence save when repeating the sounds she hears.”

Alphinaud sputtered but said nothing. In the year and a half that he acted as Xiao’s superior officer, he had long assumed that Xiao was mute because she did not wish to speak, not that she couldn’t. No, he made no such assumption. Xiao’s lack of feedback was in many ways something he relied on, that she would be willing to do anything and everything he ordered her to. He had mistaken the lack of feedback as good feedback, after all, what was stopping her from simply walking out on him and never returning? 

“But she worked on an Eorzean ship for another year and a half before she arrived in Limsa Lominsa, or at least as Minfilia reported!” This was not the way he wanted his rebuttal to go, but there was little that could be done to save face, “How is it that in over three years of exposure to the language in predominantly Eorzean speaking areas she didn’t pick it up at all?”

“That Echo of hers. It’s been translating Eorzean into her native languages.” Were it not for Haurchefant’s patience, warmth, and thoughtfulness, it was unlikely he could have coaxed that tidbit out of Xiao last night, even then she siply dipped her chin instead of waggling it. After all, for so many years, no one had asked anything that would require her personal opinion, only that she do this or that. And if she were asked her opinion, she found that nodding, shaking her head, or punching her palm in response often was enough. 

“Rest assured Master Alphinaud, I am not looking to assign blame or ask you to admit failure, I too assumed Xiao was simply a woman of few words. More taken to action than talking. I wanted to first confirm there was nothing amiss between you and her, and also I wish to look in the future.”

Alphinaud sat back on the chair, deflating. Despite Haurchefant’s words, he could not help but feel like a failure. Well, he knew he was a failure, he was a failure so many times over, and this was just more confirmation of his failure as a commander. 

But the Commander of Camp Dragonhead had the right of it as well, they could only change the future and work in the present.

Alphinaud laughed bitterly, “I thank you for not thinking that I was the worst sort of commander, taking advantage of my most loyal soldier.”

“To be frank, the thought had crossed my mind that perhaps you ordered Xiao to avoid speaking, but with the… independence she otherwise acted with, that she would adhere so adamantly to that particular order was quite the riddle.”

“So what do you have in mind?”

Haurchefant’s smile took more of a conciliatory air, “To speak plain, ‘tis a task of which I know not how to begin. Were she a babe of a few winters, we could use the set of tomes we keep in the nursery, but she is a lady grown, and the Azure Dragoon.”

“And you think she would reject outright tutelage out of such tomes?”

“She after all has a reputation to keep up. Soldiers can be… unkind about such things, especially given that, as an outsider, there is some talk of her being a sort of usurper of status and command, though Estinien recognizes her as well. I know full well that there are lines that can be overstepped, no matter how loyal the soldier, no matter how beloved the commander.”

Alphinaud looked at his fingers gripping his knees, thinking of the lines he had overstepped. No, now was not the time,  “I could tutor her privately on grammar and pronunciation, though I need a suitable Scholasticate textbook from which to reference.”

“And I can discreetly request such a copy from Ishgard.”

“But I believe you should take part,” Upon seeing the surprise on Hauchefant’s face, he continued, “You are her lover, are you not? Would you not want to know her thoughts and have her share her feelings through her own words?”

Haurchefant rubbed a sheepish hand on his neck, “So you’ve seen through me, alas I am no teacher of letters.”

It was Alphinaud’s turn to smile, “Leave the teaching to me, all you need is to convince her to avoid using her Echo and hold conversation with her.”

After an evening’s exertion, Haurchefant caught himself doing all the talking again. He looked down at the firebrand cuddled on his chest, her skin gently steaming in the cold evening air. He hardly needed the fire going or layers of blankets when he spent his nights with her. “But what of your day, Xiao? How was the patrol?”

Xiao looked up from where she had been enjoying the rumble of Haurchefant’s voice in his chest, eyes wide. Was that shock of surprise or sheer terror?

He held her tighter and kissed her forehead, “I hope you can accept my sincere apology, all this time I had thought you mute by choice. But I have no greater desire than to listen to your voice, share in your joys and woes, and understand your thoughts.”

The Miqo’te wiggled in the embrace and ran her fingers down Haurchefant’s thigh, her half lidded eyes seemed to ask, no greater desire?

Haurchefant sat up in bed, letting Xiao slip into his lap, pooling like the blankets around them, “I enjoy every moment we spend together, my love, but I cannot abide an uneven relationship. This may be a disparity you have grown accustomed to, but I shall not allow for it.”

He looked gently and sadly into Xiao’s eyes, “It pains me even now to know how experienced in love you know yourself to be, despite never speaking up. You have been in beautiful duets without singing.”

Xiao squirmed more, she opened her mouth and then closed it, she ran her tongue along her teeth. She looked up, an expression caught between desperation and hope, tears welling in her eyes.

He smiled back kindly, “Take your time, dear. I for one am willing to sit and listen until the coals grow cold and the sun has risen. And I shan’t interrupt unless you ask me a question.”

In all of his time having known Xiao, even in the earliest moments, back even before there was a single hitched breath shared between the two, Haurchefant had never seen Xiao vulnerable. Weakened, injured, surprised, caught in compromising positions, perhaps, but never vulnerable. The stoicism was as much as a shield as it was genuine nescience.

So it was that Haurchefant finally heard her voice, which he had heard much cry out in rage and passion and more, work quietly, softly, to fumble and babble about how her day went.

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2021 Prompt #4 - Baleful

The winter winds on the Coerthas slopes seemed to never cease blowing. Their presence was also inescapable. Even in the stone-insulated warmth of Camp Dragonhead's innermost chambers, Alphinaud could pick out the distant whistling whenever he stopped to listen, and no matter how robust and crackling the fire in front of him was, no matter how many layers or blankets he was wrapped with at the time, the sound gave him an involuntary shiver.

Perhaps it was his fault for wearing an outfit filled with holes instead of something warmer on his first outing to Camp Dragonhead, and that chill that stole into his bones never left him since. Or maybe it was more psychological, knowing that, if he were to venture out of the relative safety of these walls, his own men were wont to descend upon him to take his head from his shoulders. For he was no Warrior of Light, he was but a would be princeling who decided he understood how the entire world worked before ever leaving his home to see it. It would be more useful for his political enemies to make him disappear forever, another scratched out footnote in the chronicles of the changing eras.

In his darkest hours, he wondered if his father was right.

As the winter deepened, he had begun to spend fewer of his waking hours brooding and more of them reading from the archives in Haurchefant's study. The commander of Camp Dragonhead held most of his meetings at his main desk in the foyer of the manor, only rarely retreating into the study to search the archive or to study some contract or other without interruption. So all other hours were yielded to Alphinaud's leisure. It was only here that he really began to understand the complexities of commanding.

It was mostly logistics. Having the right people in the right places at the right times, agreeing to have supplies delivered in a timely manner, predicting and accounting for shortages and casualties and finding the leeway to manage all of it, the plates required were many and all of them had to remain spinning. It was sobering to think that, with the climate of Ishgard so irreparably changed in the last five years, how much the city teetered constantly on the brink of failure as nearly all of the food production had to be relocated to the Sea of Clouds overnight. That first year after the Umbral Calamity was the first time in about a thousand years that something besides dragonfire risked bringing the city to ruin. Ice and Snow and Hunger were the names of the demons that year. And seeing that Haurchefant took control of Camp Dragonhead in the midst of this chaos and improved nearly everything across the board gave Alphinaud a newfound respect for the flamboyant knight.

As such, the young Elezen decided to do more than read through musty worksheets and tabulations. The Warrior of Light, when not fighting alongside the House Fortemps knights as a dragoon, pitched in where her strength was needed around the fortress. Tataru had picked up weaving and armor repair and cooking as a part of her duties. It was high time, Alphinaud thought, that he should join in.

* * *

Tataru stopped hammering away at the chainmail she was repairing and asked Alphinaud to repeat himself.

"Er, have you seen Ser Haurchefant around, Tataru?" The difference in height between the Lalafell and the Elezen seemed to accentuate Alphinaud's lost child nature, especially in this locale.

Tataru wiped her soot covered forehead with a soot covered begloved hand, "Oh, I believe he went down to the barn."

Alphinaud considered his options. He didn't want to start with working with animals. There were too many factors to account for. He also did not wish to shovel manure.

"Ah, very well. And Xiao? Where is she?" The Warrior of Light was assuredly also busy at work somewhere.

"Haven't seen her all day, but I heard she went down to the barn as well."

The supposed-not-princeling grimaced and wished that he had gotten to know the smallfolk better instead of spending his first moon at Camp Dragonhead sulking and reading archival invoices and worksheets. He hardly knew anyone else, at least who wasn't a soldier, by name. Oh he was grateful and gave generous thanks whenever he received anything or was taken care of, but everyone seemed to know his name and he was rarely given a chance to naturally learn anyone else's. To offer to help someone and having to ask for their name in the process felt like a betrayal of the principle he was looking to now follow through on.

So he was headed to the barn. As he labored alongside the Commander and the Warrior of Light, he vowed, he would learn a few names of the farmhands and shepherds.

As Alphinaud left, Tataru resumed hammering, then stopped. There was something she was forgetting. Wasn't today the day that the shepherds were to take some of the flock to slaughter? There shouldn't be work to do at the barn that would require the heavy lifting of both Haurchefant and Xiao.

She shrugged and continued hammering at the rivets in front of her.

* * *

Alphinaud opened the door of the barn with some difficulty. It was quite large and bulky and he found himself wishing he would get his growth spurt early. The warmth of the barn was nearly cozy in comparison to the bitter chill.

As he announced his presence, the sound of physical exertion halted. There was a bit of rustling and whispering, and Haurchefant's voice rang out from the far corner stall, "But a moment, Alphinaud!"

The Commander of Camp Dragonhead hurried over, bare chested and adjusting his pants. The sweat that coated him and his shortness of breath surely spoke of the intensity with which he labored. Alphinaud rolled up his sleeves in anticipation.

"Right, with whatever you're working on right now, I intend to lend a hand!"

A sheep bleated.

"Pardon?"

"I've spent far too long cooped up in that study. I wish to do my part around the fortress as Tataru and Xiao do. So please, let me join in! I don't mind if it's dirty or if I get sweaty."

Haurchefant crooked an arm at his waist and looked away with the expression of suppressing painful laughter.

"I appreciate it, dear Alphinaud, but I do not think this is your place."

Xiao waddled over, an oversized shirt hastily thrown over her body. Sweaty as well, but with more measured breathing, she tried her very best not to look directly at Alphinaud lest she shoot death glares at him.

"Ser Haurchefant, I insist. I mind it not if it's hard labor that leaves me sore in the morrow, I am as ablebodied as the next man!"

Haurchefant looked over at Xiao, mischeviously, "Well, my sweet, what do you think?"

Xiao shot Haurchefant a full death glare, to which Haurchefant threw back his head with roaring laughter.

When he had finished, he said, "I assure you, Alphinaud, we do not need your assistance in this, er, endeavor."

Alphinaud tilted his head, questioningly. There was clearly something here that he was missing, "Are you sure? Anything that would cause such exertion from the two of you would surely be lightened with another pair of hands, would it not?"

Xiao spoke up, "Please, Alphinaud, you're not--" The Warrior of Light was still in the process of learning the rolling tongue of Eorzean, having relied on the Echo for translation for so long, and thus hardly had the words.

"Indeed, there are certain works best done with two souls, well, at least in a stall so small." This earned Haurchefant a slap in the forearm from the Warrior of Light. "Why not help out in another way while we finish up?"

Alphinaud looked downcast, this wasn't turning out how he pictured it at all. He had imagined working alongside the rippling muscles of both Haurchefant and the Warrior of Light hauling crates or pitching hay. Or shoveling manure. It wasn't out of the question for him. Really.

But he would make the most of it, "Very well, how else can I help?"

Haurchefant snapped his fingers, "The shepherds will be refilling the fodder upon their return, why not make light their work and grab bales of hay enough to fill a stall?"

Now this was the heavy labor Alphinaud had pictured! He punched his hand like he had seen Xiao do many times before, "Excellent! I will begin forthwith!"

"There ought to be bales of hay in the shed across the grounds." Haurchefant pointed out the open barn door. "Worry not if the task seems grand, once our current task is completed, we will come to join you."

The young Elezen princeling, so worldly and knowing, rushed off with a determination he had not felt in a moon. The "labor" he was not to join in on pushed fully out of his mind with the thought of hay bales.

* * *

Haurchefant grabbed Xiao by the waist and swept her up for a kiss on the forehead. She reciprocated by latching on to him as she did before their interruption and kissing him on the side of the neck.

"I believe I've bought ourselves at least half a bell." Indeed, full grown men had trouble lifting a single bale, let alone carry one without help across the courtyard. "Shall we continue with our 'labor'?"

Xiao rested her head on Haurchefant's shoulder, taking in the feeling of his chest through the coarse fabric of the shirt, his shirt, that she had tossed on for modesty.

"The mood's gone, cold," she whispered in his ear, haltingly, "Warm me up again?"

Haurchefant walked over to the barn door with Xiao clinging on to him like some oddly indecent lizard on a tree and shut it.

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2021 Prompt #2 - Aberrant

Haurchefant had originally intended to keep his distance. Sure he was intrigued, sure he was as gregarious as always, sure she was impressive, but this so-called Scion was little more than an ally of convenience for now. Another mercenary who darkened his door for a warm drink, or perhaps a warm bed, but nothing more. The boy that she traveled with, naive and cocksure, had described her in passing as his weapon in his grand scheme to save Eorzea. Quiet, cold, and obedient, the Miqo'te was a blade with which to excise the Garlean menace from Aldenardian soil.

Not that he couldn't sympathize, after all, as a knight and commander of Camp Dragonhead, he was a stalwart shield upon which the Dravanian foe was broken and routed. Much of his autonomy and discretion were granted for being an obedient and unquestioning son of Ishgard. Perhaps she was simply on a tighter leash while working for the boy, Alphinaud. He seemed the type. With her comings and goings, it was possible she would quit the ice and snow of Coerthas for some sunny retreat, only to return when called upon. She was by far the most frequent user of the aetheryte at Camp Dragonhead, often flitting to and fro as easily as turning in place.

That was but one of the queer circumstances surrounding the Miqo'te.

She was effectively mute. Oh sure, she gestured often, sometimes rudely, and was quick to nod and even offer smile, but Haurchefant never heard her utter a single word. She understood orders and conversation in Eorzean just fine and followed through on objectives to the letter, so it couldn't be that she didn't speak the language, right? He had always meant to ask Alphinaud if the boy had commanded her to never speak while doing his bidding and why, but he could never formulate a properly civil way to broach the subject.

She was monstrously strong. The oversized axe strapped to her back was not merely an intimidating prop. The few times they were afield together, he would watch in astonishment as she felled dragons that a battalion of knights would struggle to contend with, let alone slay, cleaving through flesh and bone with a natural ease. And, clad in armor as she was, it was clear she hardly needed it. What attacks she could not simply shrug off, she parried or dodged with unnerving grace and preternatural prediction.

She often stood directly on his table when receiving briefings. Haurchefant had initially been taken aback not so much by the extremely impolite behavior so much as impressed that the Miqo'te had such power behind her standing jump, and to land without disturbing an inkwell or piece on his battle map! It was definitely a matter of sizing him up, Haurchefant reasoned. That he was unperturbed and finished his briefing with the same aplomb as he had during introductions despite the Warrior literally looking down her nose at him seemed to net him some sort of approval. Though, in hindsight, it may also have been a matter of reversing the difference in stature. She was what passed as tall for a lady Miqo'te, from what the Elezen could ascertain of the sellswords and adventurers that passed through Camp Dragonhead, so it may have irked her to be surrounded by so many taller people. Maybe it was just a natural instinct. Not to be base, but the ratters that House Fortemps kept to patrol the kitchens were wont to perch in lofts and other high places too.

But most of all, despite everything else and all appearances, it seemed she cared. She cared deeply, stopping to listen to the woes of nearly everyone on staff. He already had a half dozen reports from his men of the Miqo'te bursting into engagements with Dravanians and generating so much enmity that all foes would turn their attention to her, saving his men from grievous injury. The smallfolk also were often left bemused when the Warrior would listen to their complaints or overhear something in passing and would return not half a bell later with something that aided them or with an item that they had been meaning to fetch. And now she was investigating the allegations against Francel, a matter that Haurchefant considered internal Ishgardian politics gone askew, with the care and sensitivity that her brutality afield would have never betrayed.

She was also purple in hair. Silver, blonde, brunette, ginger, white, black, all of these other colors were sensible to him. From whence did she hail to have hair and eye (the other was forever covered in an eyepatch) that she would naturally have hair of a violet coloring? It was how everyone in camp knew her. That silent purple Miqo'te. Didn't introduce herself. Hardly acknowledged that she understood. She definitely understood.

So could you blame him? Could you blame his fascination, his burning curiosity for such a colorful figure?

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2021 Prompt #8 - Adroit

The Warrior of Light, Savior of Eorzea, Azure Dragoon, Van Baelsar's Downfall could not read Eorzean letters.

Though it was a thought that made the Literati of Aldenard tremble, should it not be expected? After all, it was naught six moons after she set foot in Limsa Lominsa that she laid waste to the Praetorium within Castrum Meridianum and destroyed the Ultima Weapon. There was hardly a moment for the Warrior of Light to sit down with phonics.

...Not that she could read other languages. She grew up with one of the Southern Seas Moonkeeper tongues that lacked an alphabet entirely.

...Not that she spoke Eorzean. Though one would never realize it through simple interaction with her, the Echo's ability to translate all languages for her meant that, unless she was consciously attempting to listen to the rolling babble that made up the Eorzean syllabary, she had spent the last six months, and year and a half before that whist privateering, understanding everything in the roil that made up her Moonkeeper dialect. Most people would describe her simply as stoic, the strong silent type. Actions speak louder than words, after all.

However, her chosen entourage were the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, which had a core of Sharlayan graduates and post-grads. And Minfilia and Yda.

Mayhap that was the key to why Xiao seemed to prefer their company by default. It was difficult to participate in the conversations and arguments about arcane marginalia when your only responses were an emphatic nod, a shrug, and an expression of careful consideration to mask cluelessness. But the Sharlayan scholars were not all indifferent to her struggles.

Y'sthola and Alphinaud had made it their mission to slowly have Xiao learn Eorzean. Y'shtola did it for the sake of wishing to have actual conversation and also wanting to hear Xiao express herself (What little she remembered of her own Miqo'te tongue was a tattered mess from childhood), and Alphinaud did it for the principle of the matter (But of course he did). Thus it was that Y'shtola had frustratingly plodding immersive conversations with Xiao, and Alphinaud lectured fruitlessly through a Sharlayan children's primer on phonetics.

But all of that came to an abrupt close when the Warrior of Light was accused of assassinating the Sultana. Beset on all sides with hardly the words to explain herself, what was she to do? No amount of nodding was going to help her there. Perhaps that was what Teledji Adeledji was banking for. Perhaps a cynic would say that, after so many moons of people assuming and showing good will, it was inevitable that someone would use the Warrior of Light's mute nature to their own advantage.

* * *

The three processed grief in very different ways.

Alphinaud sulked and brooded before landing himself in the library. Maybe if he read the right book for the situation he could take advantage of it all, or at least ease his sense of guilt.

Tataru had perhaps the healthiest coping mechanism. She threw herself into work, yes, but it was sociable work. It was surrounded by those that learned to care for her as they cared for the other inhabitants of Camp Dragonhead. It was acts of creation and crying on the willing shoulders of her growing network of friends and acquaintances.

Xiao Longbao destroyed.

Murder would have spoken some sort of intent to harm, a vendetta or motivation. Nay, she destroyed for the sake of destruction. Camp Dragonhead went through more training dummies in the first fortnight after the banquet than it had since the Umbral Calamity. They were all expertly dismantled with strength that rivaled Ralghr's despite the fact that she never used anything but the practice weapons one was supposed to use within the confines of the fortress. They were also running out of those as well.

As for the Dravanian incursions, House Fortemps soldiers would rally and charge the enemy to only find blood and limbs littering the mountainside, and if they were fortunate, a tired looking Miqo'te, her hair matted with blood, leaning on a spear, looking out towards Mor Dhona.

If they were unlucky, they'd find an axe wielding beast hacking apart an already dead ogre or Vodoriga.

Then, once the destruction was through, the Warrior of Light would imbibe enough to kill a horse. Perhaps it was normal for a former privateer, but it still gathered rumors and whispers when the supposed Savior was found slumped over in the mess hall deep in the cups almost every night. She would rise from this state in the morrow and repeat. Outward destruction by day, inward destruction by night. Alas, who would confront her? Camp Dragonhead enjoyed the first fortnight without an injury or casualty among her garrison for the first time in memory. It wasn't that they were ungrateful just, just... who had the words?

So the concern reached all the way to the top, and Lord Haurchefant, Commander of Camp Dragonhead, decided finally that it would no longer be improprietous for intervention. Oh, he had flirted and expressed his interest once upon a time, but as the debt his small dominion began to accrue in the Warrior of Light's ledger, never mind that she would never come around to collect, he distanced himself for he knew his place. He was not one to risk scandal for House Fortemps. But surely, surely now that Ishgard proper was indebted to the Warrior of Light, now that, begrudgingly, she was recognized as another Azure Dragoon by Estinien and even by Ishgard's vaunted Dragoon Corps, surely there could be no fuss to be made.

It was why he immediately received the trio, shivering and alone in the cold, without question and gave them rooms and the intercessory. But the embers he felt, he dared still not fan. Let them stay cooling coals, both he and the Warrior of Light had other fires to attend to. But now, but now, he would risk fanning the flame. After all, did they not work well together? Did they not admire one another?

So it was that, upon her return one bloody afternoon, Haurchefant greeted Xiao with a still steaming bucket of water.

"I had thought your hair ever a dashing violet. When did it become so faded and browned?" he said, wrinkling his nose, "Moreover, when was the last time you bathed?"

Xiao barely had the time to hiss at him when the water hit her. But whatever rage she felt was utterly wiped out by the shock of water, and the feeling of comfort it brought to her stiffening body, following by shivering as the warmth quickly passed.

Haurchefant looked down at the pooled gore that the first bucket knocked off her. With impunity he tossed at her a second bucket's worth, then a third.

"There is a bath of this very same water prepared for you," he said, "But I had been forewarned that you mayhap require a pre-emptive soaking. 'Tis unfitting of a lady to smell as if she has crawled into something that had died and wear it as a dress."

Xiao opened her mouth, her voice a hoarse growl from disuse, "Not lady, a weapon."

"Very well, but a weapon without maintenance and cleaning is liable to break, and the fortress ill needs a broken blade on the battlefield."

So it was that Haurchefant lead Xiao by the hand into the Manor, to his own private quarters, where a bath was drawn and waiting. Xiao did little to resist the careful hands with which he removed the plate amor that she had slept in and the caring and precise manner with which he undid the bindings of the leather she wore underneath. She sat as in a stupor on the stool as Haurchefant scrubbed her back and limbs with warmed rags, delicately dabbing at bruises and areas where her skin had chafed away without her realizing. She merely grunted at the stinging, her eyes still staring off thousands of yalms away. The bathroom floor was soon a muck of brown with the filth that was wiped off her, and the bathwater didn't quite change colors nearly as dramatically when Haurchefant finally settled her in.

She hadn't realized how weary she was. She hadn't realized how hard she pushed herself. She hadn't realized how disgusting her tail fur was. It was as if she were waking up again after a long, troubled dream.

But the pain returned. The anguish, the failure. Y'shtola...

Lost and adrift with thoughts that she had been avoiding, she didn't notice Haurchefant leave and return with a clean shirt and a book.

He began reading from it, and the lyrical timber of his voice was enough for Xiao to push away the Echo and ask, "What is this?"

"A book of poems, written in old Ishgardian tongue. They would bring me comfort in my youth as my mother read from them."

The rise and fall of his voice entrained her thoughts on it, despite not quite understanding the words, the skillful play of tones and syllables, the steady dah-dih-dah-dih-dah-dah of the verses.

Immersed in warmth and the beauty of Haurchefant's voice, Xiao drifted off peacefully for the first time in days.

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2021 Prompt #28 - Bow

"What is that?"

Xiao had to twist over nearly completely, a feat that she was capable of thanks to Miqo'te physiology, to see what Haurchefant was pointing at.

"My butt? My smallclothes?"

"Well, yes, but no. Here."

Haurchefant grabbed her by the hips in a commanding way to align her backside. Her breath caught in her throat. This was unexpected but not unwelcome. He undid the lacing at the back of her pantelettes.

"M'lord, we have much to do this morn, surely we could not--" but before she could finish the sentence, Haurchefant had retied the lacing. It was a proper, even bow this time, nothing like the lazy, blind-tied, lopsided thing that Xiao had quickly done. As he finished and moved his head back to inspect his work, he could not help but gently lean forward again to kiss her upon that bow on the base of her tail.

He followed up with an affectionate-but-not-necessarily-unsultry buttslap.

"But what purpose this bow?"

"Multiple purposes. Firstly, a proper lady should have a neat bow, even if 'tis not in view. Secondly, if anyone does end up seeing it, through happenstance or not, they will know it was tied by another, and perhaps you are then spoken for, as you are not the type to be dressed by a maid. Thirdly, though it is hidden, you shall know that it is there, who tied it for you, and how it was tied, and I would like for those thoughts to linger with every flick and sway."

This was followed by a gentle but firm grip of the base of her tail.

Xiao squeaked in a manner very much ill-befitting of the Warrior of Light.

But perhaps that was something that she could put behind her. The one ill-fated expedition that the Crystal Braves mounted in Coerthas was turned back by the elements more than any sort of combat prowess that Xiao displayed, and she was spending more time as the second Azure Dragoon, operating in the east of Ishgard while Estinien took on engagements in the west. It was more harriers and cultists than Garleans these days. She missed the running around all of Eorzea, but being able to come home to a roaring fire and a warm bed (and a Haurchefant) most nights more than made up for it.

The world was cold and cruel, but with Haurchefant and Camp Dragonhead at her back, she could face most of it. The other feelings she had, she could ignore for now, and her inner beasts were sated, if not pleased.

She still couldn't say goodbye to Y'shtola. Haurchefant never said anything and always listened with great care and gentleness when she broached the subject, or awoke in the night crying.

"I would have liked to have met her. She must have been an extraordinary woman," he had once said while drying Xiao's tears one night. Xiao laughed bitterly, if only because she could imagine Y'shtola's response to that, but also because she couldn't imagine Y'shtola saying the same about Haurchefant with such sincerity.

She had as well never spoken with any sincerity about becoming wed or a Ceremony of Eternal Bonding with Xiao. It was just a thought that never crossed Y'shtola's mind, so frivolous it was to her.

"We rush ourselves headlong into danger every other fortnight. What if one of us doesn't make it back? What if you had to make a life and death decision between me and Thancred, would you be able to pick otherwise, even to pick otherwise would be to jeopardize the mission? How would you expect Thancred to feel about that?"

Xiao didn't have an answer.

And then she didn't have a choice.

The most frequent nightmare she had was running in the aqueducts endlessly, and Y'shtola would sacrifice herself over and over again as the ceiling gave way and the Crystal Braves and Brass Blades would give chase through the dust. She couldn't protect her beloved. She couldn't protect the Antecedent. She had to flee and flee and flee the endless waterlogged masonry while those around her died again and again.

The only relief was that the nightmare never ended with the depths that she plunged herself into after the escape. She kept herself largely free of gore these days, and more than a sip of drink or liquor now turned her stomach. She didn't wish to put worry on his face or see those blue eyes brim over with tears again.

Xiao wondered if Haurchefant would have the same sort of security in his relationship with her as to wish to meet Y'shtola if she hadn't met her end underneath Ul'dah. He probably would. That was how he actually was. He caught her vicious and self-destructive rebound gracefully and turned that attempted self immolation into a healthy, loving relationship. He said nothing and forgave her for "using" him for warmth, as a crutch and replacement in her heart after losing Y'shtola. His ability to forgive her gave her some solace, as she was unable to forgive herself. But those feelings were easy enough to ignore for now.

Would she be able to choose between Haurchefant and Y'shtola? Xiao didn't have an answer, really.

* * *

And then she didn't have a choice.

* * *

"And what do you think you're doing?"

Y'shtola at least stayed still enough for Xiao to finish her administration. It was a rough bow, but at least it was even. She would have gone back in for a kiss had Y'shtola not thrust her tail into Xiao's face.

"A proper bow, for a neat lady--"

"Aye, and what kind of neat lady would I be if I soil my smallclothes in the midst of trying to undo an unfamiliar knot? Dear, do remember that I am still actually blind though I might not seem it." With some fussing Y'sthola untied the bow and redid it so it could be easily untied with one hand without looking.

Xiao opened and closed her mouth several times. Whatever chivalry she had imagined and what nice speech she was about to come up with died, murdered mercilessly by Y'shtola's need for practicality and distaste for romance.

Y'shtola, sensing something amiss and looking behind her with her aethersight without turning her head, sighed briefly.

"Come, bind up my bosom tight so that I do not feel as if I'll bounce away in the next rigorous encounter we have next with our new neighbors in the colony. You can still give me your pretty lady pretty bow spiel."

Xiao tried her best, but with the wind taken out of her sails, she could barely find the words and just tried her best to tie up Y'shtola's top. There were many things that Xiao picked up from that Elezen, smooth operating was not one of them.

"And as adventurous as it may be to have a fill of one another in the lecture halls in which I once learned and taught in, I would much prefer no interruptions by the Illuminati, so perhaps it would behoove us to never do this again."

It was Y'shtola's idea to take a quick break as they were chasing down Illuminati. Something about fighting in the familiar turned unfamiliar halls had gotten Y'sthola going, and Xiao was more than happy to spare a moment or three. The unfortunate Illuminati sought revenge through an attempted ambush, but it didn't work out at all in the favor of the Goblins, whose last moments were full of violently naked Miqo'tes.

"I think my sense of smell has gotten stronger since exiting the Lifestream. The viscera may be on the other end of the room but it's still extremely off-putting."

Xiao, wearing only the chaps she wore underneath her plate mail, shrugged and continued dressing. At least her body wasn't covered in her blood.

Y'shtola walked over as Xiao pulled the chemise over her head and returned the favor of tying up the back.

"Where did you learn that silly concept? Was it Haurchefant?"

Xiao froze at the name and her breath hitched. She nodded slowly.

"Perhaps it is strange for me to say of your lost beloved, but I think I would have liked to have met the man." Y'shtola rested her cheek on Xiao's broad shoulders. "To have cultured and refined you in such a way, when we Scions barely could, nay, barely made an attempt... 'Tis a great debt I feel I owe."

She flicked the perfect bow she tied on Xiao's lower back and ran her fingers down Xiao's spine to elicit a shiver. "Come, let us quickly finish dressing so that we may avoid any more interruptions, and pray that Master Matoya will smell only the blood spilt and not the coupling had."

Xiao blinked a few times, trying to take in, perhaps savor the moment. She rolled her shoulders to test the hold of the bow in the small of her back.

A neat bow for a proper lady.

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2021 Prompt #25 - Silver Lining

The Silver Fuller was mounted over his headboard.

Though it was clearly ceremonial, Haurchefant joked that it was his last line of defense. Indeed, with his arms long as they were, he could nearly grab it from his prone position. And when lost in thought, his fingers would trace the bottom of the wooden panel that the blade rested on.

But these days his arms were occupied elsewhere.

He traced the musculature of Xiao's back, down to the point where her spine met her tail, eliciting a small involuntary shiver. Xiao reached around behind her to clutch his hand and raised his knuckles to her mouth for a kiss, before standing up to finish pulling on the pantalettes she wore as smallclothes.

Wordlessly, Hauchefant helped retie the bindings over her tail that he had mere bells before so hastily ripped open. A pretty bow for his pretty lady. His pretty lady who still got up in the early bells to sleep in her own bed in the other wing of the manor. As much as Haurchefant insisted, she still got up and left.

And then come the morning, she was another one of his soldiers, ready to defend the fortress and aid the smallfolk in their duties.

Perhaps it was bad form for Haurchefant to have such relations with such a member of his garrison. Certainly had it been an Ishgardian soldier, the Camp would have been all a titter. But Xiao being the Warrior of Light, Azure Dragoon, and refugee, there was more discretion given, on top of the discretion he received as the much-loved lord of the fortress of course.

They didn't question his previous budding relationship with Francel de Haillenarte, nor the longer list of suitors that he had made of the mercenaries and adventurers that would wander through Camp Dragonhead. He wondered if it could be considered one of the perks of his undeclared self-exile. For there was another blade that hung over his head as he slept and worked. The honor of House Fortemps, a name that he could not adopt and the House that he could not enter.

Though bastards were often legitimized, sometimes to great ceremony, it would have gone directly in the face of Lady de Fortemps's last wishes. Cruel as it was, that symbol of Edmont's love for another constantly drove daggers into her heart. It was such that Haurchefant began to spend more and more of his time under the care and tutelage of his great-uncle, Bonacieux, the aging lord at Camp Dragonhead. Oh, he was still allowed into Fortemps manor, and he indeed was as much of a brother to Emmanellain and Artoirel as they were to each other, but he wasn't acknowledged at any private functions and certainly wasn't invited to any public ceremonies.

And yet, as it was drilled into him by Bonacieux and all of the other adults that served under House Fortemps, the other noble houses would gladly use his presence and his actions against the Fortemps name. But if his presence was not felt and his reported actions were all chivalrous... then at the least his existence would be tolerated.

Other souls may have buckled under these conditions, but the wellspring of hope flowed eternal in Haurchefant's heart, and he dearly loved his city and its people despite it all. Perhaps it was Bonacieux's influence. The flamboyant but elderly man still carried his lover's Ul'dahn shield on his back after all, despite being so frail he could no longer don any other armor. He and his men taught the newly knighted Haurchefant how to steward the fortress and the minutia of balancing Ishgard's isolation with the constant churn of sellswords that ventured into Coerthas. Finding honor and carving out areas of discretion outside the fortified walls of Ishgard was, after all, what Bonacieux did after scandal nearly cast him out of House Fortemps completely.

He wondered how his life would have been different had he been a proper heir and lord. Would he have his parents' brooding attitudes? How would he have been raised if his father were allowed to do more than look forlornly at his distant form? If his mother could smile and love his countenance as she could her two sons? Would he have gotten a pageboy as Emmanellain and Artoirel did? Would he have been as prepared to take over Camp Dragonhead? Would he have been allowed to love as freely as he did, and have invited so many suitors into his personal chambers?

Would he have been as stricken by Xiao? Would they have met at all?

There was one particular way that Haurchefant could join House Fortemps legitimately without violating his late mother's will. Were there an occasion for Fortemps to adopt an outsider, say a member of one of Fortemps's many minor houses that did the House a great honor or deed, Haurchefant could marry. He could retake the Fortemps name in that sense, and no more would his mere existence be a scandal.

Oh, it was a hope, a faint and silly hope, but it was hope nevertheless, and Haurchefant could see it in the Warrior of Light. She was so capable of doing so many great things.

They coated that blade in pure silver after his knighting, House Haillenarte insisted. They said it would make for a better trophy.

So it was that Haurchefant traced the blade's outline with his fingers, lost in thought.