#lord Speaker Aymeric

[missazurerose]

Being dramatic out at the Last Vigil on a foggy day.

If I'm honest, I don't think I had any posing tools when I did these. I'm pretty sure I just kept going in and out of gpose trying to position them decently close together during the Endwalker caster role quests.

[aethernoise]

I took aymeric fishing and finally got my damn 10k+ ruby route score

this is the second time he's brought me good luck with a rng-dependent grind! no rare catches, but 3 crimson sentries?? unbelievable. apparently ser can fish.

[vixlenxe]

Sakura is a princess in a mission! He's off to ask after letters from Makoto since it's been a while and the increasing responsibility has been weighing on him.

It's perhaps why he's let himself go in long walks lately, happy to smell the fresh air, and as his new dress came in finally he's feeling a bit freer and comfortable in them. A coping mechanism of feeling pretty to ignore the stress.

But he was suddenly derailed by a familiar blue waking by. "Lord Aymeric? How strange to see you outside your office!" He gave a wide smile, trotting up to the Lord Speaker. "Taking a break?"

It was but his weekly constitutional, though not everyone truly awake of Aymeric partaking of such walks, it was rare he did so outside of that gaja suit after all, but even he needed to keep himself in shape; he was still a knight even as head of state now.

Then he came skipping down the street, & he was nearly unrecognizable without the familiar dazzling kimono & bow from his obi peeking out from his sides. The Lord Speaker just about did a double take. Those familiar wears he attributed Sakura too were gone, instead with a dress that was loose & simple patterned, held to person by a waist-only corset & was colored such a soft blue; it could match his eyes.

"... P... Princess Sakura?" He sounded surprised, & he was! Not by Sakura himself, but rather his wears, he did not picture Sakura the type to wear looser clothing, certainly not with his usual choice of his homeland's attire.

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Soft Smiles From Across the Room

Lord and Cook AU. Fill from intimate moment prompts here. At a nameday ball, Estinien and Agi smile...and Estinien is having a crisis. SFW.

The Viscount of House Varlineau was not supposed to be looking at her.

No, there were many eligible bachelorettes from each of the High Houses at the Countess de Durendaire’s nameday ball.

But I cannot stop thinking of her.

To his surprise and pleasure, she caught his glance as well. She had offered to work the ball for the extra money.

Wearing a plain black dress with matching pumps, there was Agnes Currai across the room.

There was Agnes Currai, his newest cook, holding a serving tray, and smiling at him.

He could not help but smile at her in return.

It feels as if we are the only two in the room. How I would love to take her hand, brush my lips against her knuckles, and offer her a dance. I would sweep her off her feet. I would ask her if we could go outside for a moment…I could ask her for a discreet kiss…We…I…Her…

“You’re staring, my friend.” Aymeric whispered in his oldest friend’s ear. “There are some who are beginning to notice.”

He coughed and looked down at his drink. These past six moons we have grown closer. We take a weekly walk on her afternoon off through the Jeweled Crozier, and I always offer to buy her mother something. So many stolen glances. So many times where I wanted to tell her she’s the sweetest and most beautiful lady I’ve ever met. I wish I was as brave as Aymeric---he who is remaking Ishgard into a place where all are equal---and simply tell her my feelings. But she is also my employee, which is improper. Fucking hells.

“Are you alright?” Aymeric asked, his hand on Estinien’s arm. “You look as if you’re in terrible pain, Estinien.”

Do as Mama said, “Plaster on a smile Stini and hope for the best.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m well, simply deep in thought.”

Aymeric raised an eyebrow. “Anything I can help with?”

Estinien sipped some wine before speaking. “If you…had feelings for a lady, but the lady—”

Leaning towards Estinien’s ear once more, Aymeric smirked. “Is in your employ. It’s fairly obvious you have feelings for her, my dear friend.”

SHIT. FUCK. Halone take me. “Is it that bloody obvious?” He growled, staring into his glass.

Aymeric laughed and slapped him on the back. “Aye, at least to me. Fear not though because I do believe your feelings are returned. Why, Mistress Currai’s cheeks are still pink from when you two were making eyes at each other!” She’s so beautiful. “My advice would be to tell her, pray that I’m correct, and make an honest woman of her.”

Estinien’s brow furrowed. “I…but…she depends on her income to help support her mother in Costa del Sol…and secular marriage is not yet legal in Ishgard. If we were to,” Marry. The thought of makes my heart skip a beat. Her in a beautiful dress, smiling, placing a ring on my finger… “Wed, I wouldn’t force her to convert to the Church.” For a thousand years, the only marriages legal in Ishgard have been ones by the Church. Even if a couple, one of whom does not want to convert, marry outside Ishgard, their marriages are not recognized and any children they have are bastards. I don’t want that for her…I don’t want that for anyone. Aymeric says they are making progress, but alas, backwards men continue to cause problems with the bill.

Nodding, Aymeric took a sip of his wine. “No, no one should have to go through all that. I don’t know what advice I can give you.” He thought for a moment. “Hmm, if you tell her and she shares your feelings, then you could discreetly let her go while still giving her a salary and court her.” Wrinkling his nose, he shook his head. “Ah, but then you’d have to pay for separate lodging for her…and gossip around the city would tear you both to shreds.”

Yet another thing I don’t want her to experience.

“Or, you could tell her and she shares your feelings…and keep her employed. But what a strange situation that would be! While you would be able to see her far more easily—”

Estinien groaned. “I’m still her employer and have such power of her, which she knows a man of my position could do awful things.” I never could. I couldn’t hurt her like that. On the anniversary of her father’s death, I found her crying in a stairwell. I never wish to see her cry like that ever again. “And still the threat of gossip.” Mayhap I could have the old country estate renovated and we could live there…away from the city and its obsession with gossip. He shook his head. “I shall ask her what she prefers and defer to her judgment.”

Aymeric’s eyes brightened. “Aye, she seems very intelligent as well so she may have other options. Until then, I shall endeavor to move along the marriage bill.”

The two men stood for a moment in comfortable silence until the new Count de Fortemps tapped Aymeric on the arm and then excused both of them to deal with some annoying person.

I will tell her. Tonight. Halone, please give me the strength and eloquence I so desperately need to speak my feelings to her. Mayhap I should write them down so—

“I could take that if you’re done, my lord.” Agnes asked sweetly, smiling at him.

Estinien blinked a couple of times before downing the rest of the wine. He returned her smile, placing the glass on the tray she was holding. “My thanks, Mistress Currai. Though, speaking to guests will surely irritate the hostess.” I don’t want you in trouble simply for being polite and kind as a normal person should.

She shrugged, wrinkling her nose. “I figure it’s you, so it’s fine. Anyways,” she smiled again. “I hope you’re having a good evening.” She turned but froze when she felt his fingers touch her arm.

“Agi, would you meet me in my study at half past midnight? There is something I would speak to you about of the upmost importance.” He whispered, leaning into her very pretty little ear.

Her eyes widened. “Oh! Of course! Right! Later then!” Shit, she seems flustered and afraid.

“You’re not in any trouble, I assure you. I…simply need privacy when speaking to you.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “O-oh alright. See you then, my lord.” With a quick nod, she turned her attention back to serving the guests.

Later, dearest lady.

[tritoch]

the other thing I find very funny about trying to write a canon compliant wol is taking all the wolship hints extremely seriously.

I don't really wolship because I'm just fundamentally not that kind of fan. But I know for those who are, the sheer number of romance hints FFXIV throws at you can be overwhelming to parse in a context where you have a preferred/intended wolship, particularly if you're not attracted to the gender the hints are coming from in the first place (a particular tip of the hat to wlw fans navigating the g'raha of it all). I've seen plenty of people write around them or write them out or be like "no aymeric was for real inviting my wol to a nice platonic zero-subtext dinner," and God bless all of you.

But it's really funny to imagine them all as all-too-real but unreciprocated or perhaps unreciprocatable. The sheer scale of it is comedy. Spoilers for all of FFXIV follow.

Oh God, the Lord Speaker wants to have dinner, just the two of us, at his family estate and not a government building. I hope he doesn't bring up his crush on me. Thal's balls he's about to bring it up—oh thank God there's an emergency. Oh no someone got hurt! Oh no it's the teenage girl with a crush on me.

Your life is a cosmic joke. You watch the Sultana get poisoned and all your friends probably die to save your life and it's kind of all your fault in some ways, I mean at the very least you should've spoken up when they gave the teenager a private army, and then the teenage boy speaks up and is like, "hey, I guess we have at least one ally. What about if we go visit that guy who is really obviously down unbelievably bad for you and wants to lick the sweat off of you." and you have to be like, yeah, Alphinaud. Great idea. Let's do it. I'll call him.

(brief interlude: also haurchefant's DEATH hits so good if you don't reciprocate. It's okay. He gets it. You're going through a lot and even if you had time to sort through your feelings maybe you're just not into him. That would be okay! You can love someone, or the idea of someone, without needing it to be romantically reciprocated. That's chivalric, even. Knightly. So he won't ask you to lie to him and say you love him as he lies dying in your arms. He's not so low as all that. But could you smile for him as you used to? That true hero's smile of yours. And you do, and he dies. And you both know he died for a lie, in a way, or a flight of fancy. And he's okay with that. Are you? Should you be? Should he?)

Then you're into Stormblood and it's like wow, okay. That last part was all high fantasy, of course there were loyal knights and elegant princes. But this is war. Imperialism. Grim business, surely there's no way—oh no BOTH handsome young revolutionary leaders seem to have a special interest in you?! And so does the Crown Prince of the Empire? Come on, man. I should get to do the whole horrors of war thing without having to also deal with this. Gaius sucked and it was weird that he let his foster daughter run around being openly obsessed with him but at least he never made it my problem.

You can't even get away from it across dimensions. Shadowbringers is a horror story about going on a teambuilding camping trip with your work colleagues for some reason except they all suddenly got really hot and they keep touching you affectionately on the shoulder and being like "I care for you and your happiness. Truly." And also you're being stalked for the whole camping trip by two old men who are obsessed with you. The false climax of the story is that the one old man tries to betray you and give a dramatic monologue about how he loves you but the two of you are doomed by the narrative and then the other old man shoots him in the back like "no actually its MY turn to betray them and give a dramatic monologue about how our love is doomed by the narrative." Then the real climax is old man #1 backstabbing old man #2 in the middle of said monologue before old man #2 dies and gives ANOTHER wistful monologue about his doomed love. Then for the patches they're like okay so we have this even CRAZIER old man who's gonna strike when you're weak and give a dramatic monolo—

and that's without even getting into the literal soulmate ghost only you can see

my warrior of light never felt more betrayed than in that scene where Y'shtola is like "haha Alisaie and G'raha have crushes on the warrior of light." Like I thought we were COOL, Y'shtola! I work here! This situation is already in such a delicate balance! Right when I got here I met Alisaie's "friend from work" who was like oh haha so YOU'RE the one she can't stop talking about and we never followed up on that because the woman died horrifically like five minutes later right in front of us! Then when Vauthry got away and we had to do all that shit with the dwarves, G'raha kept pausing every ten minutes to be like oooooh I'm so old I'm gonna die soon...at least I got to spend some time with some people who are really important to me...in fact here's what I'd tell the person who's most important to me...actually u know them really well haha. And I just had to sit there and be like wow, dude, crazy.

even in the face of apocalypse you still gotta go back in time like 12,000 years and there's somewhere there who makes you sit and listen to his story which is that the purpose of his whole godlike immortal life was to be in a throuple with you and old man #2 from the camping trip. and you just gotta sit there the whole time knowing you/your past life is the one who broke up the throuple over politics. He's like come help me harangue the old man into streaking in public, he'll do it if you ask.

then you meet and fight and kill God and you gotta turn to the team and be like hey sorry guys can you give me a sec. I'm gonna call God by her real name because we met one time for like four days and after that the promise of meeting me again was one of the things that sustained her through her millennia of suffering. Not like that but like. Idk. Just gimme a sec!

It's a relief when you finally get to Lahabrea and he's like actually I still don't fuck with your vibe. Like thank GOD.

And my WoL is very obviously dad-shaped so Dawntrail had a very specific energy for me but I understand that for plenty of people your deepening rapport with Wuk Lamat had a romantic subtext (same for Koana depending on how you read a few of his lines). And personally I think it's the height of comedy to be like, noooo, babe, your highness, I know you and your brother the king are in love with me and want me to stick around and support you emotionally through this governmental transition haha. But it's just...the cursed wineglass, babe. I GOTTA go figure out what's up with this cursed wineglass.

It's a running gag in some of the more optional content that people are like "you have an unreasonable number of hobbies and side gigs" to the WoL from time to time. But if every time you tried picking up a new hobby some new elf started baring their soul to you, you too would be like Hey Jessie (or sometimes Krile or Tataru), my good friend who is one of the only people in my life who knows what professional ethics and work-life boundaries are, any chance you need muscle on a gig on the other side of the world? Ideally with only Cid and his ex so all libidinal energy in the room is directed towards machinery or someone who isn't me?

ironically one of the only places you get a break from psychosexual obsession is the nier content

[privateolives]

This moment from my playthrough keeps coming up with friends, so why don't I share the time I accidentally did Aymeric so dirty with my outfit choice for the dinner scene.

So for those of you not aware, my WoL is supposed to be a sweet Thanalan country boy type. Think desert Clark Kent-vibes man but from the burning cliffsides of Thanalan instead of Kansas. And I play a paladin besides, so of course my mildmannered Lambard went through most of Heavensward looking like this:

Covered head beard to toe in steel.

But of course, when Aymeric finally invites you do dinner, that won't do. Showing up in armor would just be impolite! So I pull my ff14 bestie in for an emergency glam sesh trying to figure out what a traditional thanalan lad might wear to a fancy occasion. We end up putting this together, which I was quite pleased with!

Straight Oughtta Ul'dah looking outfit. Looks good right? It's fancy! It's traditional! It's in-character! It's just perfect.

Bit chilly for the road there, so we figure he would have used the supplied Ishgardian coat on the way there. (I didn't get a screencap of that in time sorry)

So I slam the glam on just before the cutscene and go in happily unaware of what I'm about to do to this poor catholic boy and he greets us in a similar coat to what we got... as indoor wear. Which really should have been our first warning of what was to come.

Anyway, we come in and if you, unlike myself, are a nice, observant allosexual, you might already spot the problem.

Because as it turns out, Lambard's beautiful Ul'dahn coat has one major issue when being sat at this type of dinner table.

That being that between the coat and the table, there is now a perfectly triangular window towards the BIGGEST, FATTEST pair of sword-swinging steel-carrying hobby-mining sun-kissed pair of tits to ever grace the frozen lands of Ishgard.

Keep in mind that our poor Aymeric hasn't been lord speaker for long at this point, he's yet to leave Coerthas completely (as far as we know) on any diplomatic missions. He was recently still the knight-commander, polite son of the Pope, from the isolated lands of French Warrior Catholicism, who's grown up and only ever seen tall spindly Elezen people, wearing 50 layers in -oof° degrees celsius weather all day every day every month whole year.

EDIT: It had, in fact, only been 5 years of -WillToLive° outside, thank you @maeljade

And now he's sitting at a private dinner, doomed to look at THIS

for several hours whilst his elderly butler, last remnants of family he has, hovers about the whole time serving that appears to be unseemly amounts of wine

And I took

SEVERAL

HOURS

after the cutscene to realize what I'd done to this poor man.

... Though in my defence, my ace ass was busy laughing my head off at the reaction they give your WoL to the butler mixing you a cocktail.

[stars-and-clouds]

Okay guys but think about Aymeric for a minute.

He is adopted into a family of nobles when he comes from, possibly, a low born mother who was possibly forced into sleeping with a powerful man like Thordan. Had to keep quiet about it and possibly lose her son right after giving birth. Aymeric grew up hearing rumours about being a bastard, about not deserving his life, about how lucky he is, how he was probably a mistake.

And now he is the only one alive to carry on the Borel name, becomes the lord commander of the temple knights at a very young age, then lord speaker of Ishgard, slayer of Fafnir, unifier of dragons and men after a thousand year of war. All this while he grows up hearing he will never be good enough. Imagine how insecure that must make him. Having achieved so much will not make him think "wow, I really am amazing. Sure showed them!" It will just stress him out even more, thinking he can't do it, he isn't capable enough to carry these responsiblities out, not deserving enough to. In fact, idk if we've ever seen him being proud of himself or even happy? Doesn't he always want to jump to the next task? He is too humble for someone in his position, sometimes it's like he doesn't believe he is actually as good as he is said to be.

I think this is shown by his decision to give up his position as lord commander as soon as they finish dealing with Nidhogg. Like, he will do his duty and stop. Because he doesn't think he can do it anymore. He thinks he is not important enough so he goes to confront his father by himself in the lion's den itself, so to speak. Practically kills his father, almost kills his best friend to do his duty, brings about peace and much needed change and gets stabbed for it. How shit must that make him feel about himself?

Aymeric is so good at being a well spoken, smooth politician, we forget to see how broken he must really be inside and he is all alone. Even Lucia isn't with him anymore, having to stay at Garlemald.

The way his eyes light up every time he sees the warrior of light, calling them 'my friend,' every second sentence, as if pleading to be called the same. Writing to Estinien whenever he can, having a deep wanderlust and adventurous spirit but being unable to fulfil it. He is so much like G'raha in this sense but unlike him, Aymeric hasn't gotten his happy ending yet.

The man is so alone but so dutiful. So insecure but so good at hiding it. He craves connection but his duty forces him to be unable to make it. I cannot imagine how hard he has it.

He needs hugs 😭

[howdygravytrain]

Aymeric: I was a Lord Commander once, and then I took an arrow to the--

i've been enjoying the hell out of bard and was like "o wait, aymeric knows archery, i'm sure he'd love to show gravy some pointers--WAIT A MINUTE" then this spawned UwU

don't ask why they would go to the firmament this be vidja game logic here

also thank y'all so much for the love on my last post. y'all are so sweet i'M WEEPING /pos it's really nice seeing folks who also ship their wols/ocs with lalas! <3

transcript below the break!

TRANSCRIPT

Panel 2: ???: Oh good, yer still here, sugar!

Panel 3: Gravy Train: I was hopin’ I could train with y’all for a lil’ while if that’s alright!

Panel 4: Aymeric: Darling! Of course you’re more than welcome to train here–it’d be my honor to guide you!

Gravy Train: Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! :^D

Panel 5: [A FEW BELLS LATER…]

Charlemend de Durendaire: Good evening, I will be assisting the head nurse today with your visit.

???: Oh shit, heyyyyy, Charlie…

Panel 6: Charlemend de Durendaire: Gravy? Whatever could you be doing here–

Panel 7: Charlemend de Durendaire: OH GOOD HEAVENS!!!

Panel 8: Charlemend de Durendaire: D-did you shoot an arrow at the Lord Speaker?!!

Aymeric: Oh, hello, Lord Charlemend! ‘Twas truly a lovely shot, pierced right through my armor!

Charlemend de Durendaire: GRAVY WHAT THE FUCK.

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #5: Missives from Abroad

Prompt: stamp || Master Post || On AO3

---

Aymeric massaged his forehead, as if that would have any affect on the furrows slowly but surely developing on his brow. “I will never not find it awkward to submit budgetary requests on behalf of the Temple Knights to Parliament,” he said, finally setting down his quill. “Surely this is a conflict of interest.”

“More than likely,” Lucia said, efficiently tapping the numerous signed forms into a neatly squared off pile. “How has that motion to prevent the Lord Commander from serving as Speaker for either House gone?”

“Tabled again by the Lords,” Aymeric grumbled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms petulantly. “Commons is becoming very upset by it. I suspect I’m going to have to agree that the measure will not be retroactive for the nobles to finally agree to even vote on it.”

Lucia was naturally too polite a woman to snort her amusement, but her eyes did twinkle suspiciously. Aymeric manfully resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her.

“Is that all for today?” he said instead.

“Still the day’s missives,” Lucia said, moving towards the side table where she had left the letters that had arrived just a bell past.

Aymeric did not manage to fully suppress his groan of frustration, and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the top of his desk. He didn’t mind the myriad paperwork that was necessary to the continued functioning of Temple Knights or Ishgard, but the budget always left him irritated, and he did not wish to even look at the written word at the moment. “Lunch first, I believe. And then drills.”

“Oh,” Lucia said, voice lilting with affected innocence. Aymeric raised his head sharply to see her with the stack of still-sealed letters in hand, idly tapping the topmost one against the others. “Then you won’t mind putting this one off for a bit.”

She flicked the topmost letter in such a way that while he couldn’t identify the handwriting on the front at this distance nor the postage mark, he could recognize the wax seal: green as fresh grass, and pressed into place by the familiar shape of the master arcanist’s ring that never left Synnove’s right index finger.

“Lucia,” he growled in warning, pushing his chair back and rising to stalk around his desk.

His best friend was already sidling towards the door. “No, no,” she said, sing-song. “You have been hard at work all morning, and food and exercise will do your spirit good!”

Aymeric lunged. Lucia spun easily out of the way, her armor clanking almost loud enough to drown out her giggle. They darted around his office, and Aymeric was only a little annoyed that the game of keep-away was, in fact, brightening his mood. Though it wouldn’t be at its brightest until he had that letter in hand.

Finally, Lucia decided she had taunted him enough: rather than hop left or skip right, she shot towards him, and Aymeric scrambled back a step out of instinct. She halted right in front of him, a wide grin on her face, and raised the letter to tap it against his forehead. “Kupo,” she said.

He snatched it from her, holding it to his chest protectively, and this time did not resist the urge to stick his tongue out at her.

Lucia merely laughed as she stepped back towards the door. “You’re expected to share the highlights,” she said. “I’ll see you down in the officer’s mess.”

Aymeric waved at her absently, his attention already caught by the letter. The outer envelope was waxed vellum, his name written on the front in Synnove’s familiar scrawl with a waterproof ink she mixed herself. A pair of stamps depicting the sigil of Tural sat haphazardly in the upper right corner, no doubt placed by helpful little carbunclet noses.

With the time difference between the New World and the Old, linkpearl calls were difficult to set up, particularly with the lack of formal schedule Synnove was keeping with her sisters and the rest of Wuk Lamat’s entourage. Letters had become their de facto method of communication, and the postmoogles were only mildly annoyed by their increased workload crossing the Indigo Deep. Rereha, apparently, had had to sweet talk them to stave off the worst of their grumbling—along with provide a bribe of kupo nuts.

He popped the seal open, unfolding the vellum and spilling out the contents into his hand. A large bundle of folded paper was first: Synnove’s latest letter. There was also a new sachet of Pelupelu maté for him to try; a feather charm that put him in mind of the Vanu Vanu; and a few folded pieces of paper from the rest of their group. Little sketches made by Alphinaud and Alakhai, a snippet of filled in sheet music from some new composition by Rereha, a letter from Alisaie to be sent along to her mother. Some of them were meant to be shared with him, some had been entrusted to Aymeric via Synnove to see to their further delivery or safekeeping because the postmoogles wouldn’t dare to lose the mail of one of the Warriors of Light.

(Heron’s disappointed face worked even on them, which truly was a feat of greatness.)

Aymeric walked over to his desk, gently setting most of it in one of his drawers set aside for just this. With that done, he unfolded Synnove’s letter, a smile growing on his face as the familiar scent of her smoked vanilla and cedarwood perfume faintly drifted up to his nose.

My love, Hello from the forests and waterfalls of Kozama’uka! We’re here to assist Wuk Lamat with the Hanu Hanu’s Feat of Reeds, but first, let me tell you how she completed the Feat of Gold…

[mamma-marimo]

Princess and His Knight: Aymeric de Borel x Reader Edition

A/N: I recently got into this silly little game and noticed a lack of fresh Aymeric content so I edited a personal fic of mine into an x-reader for all to enjoy and insert themselves or their ocs into \o/ this is my first time writing for this sweet man so I am so sorry if he is a little ooc! Just a heads up, this contains spoilers for basically all of Heavensward. (I just started Stormblood though so no spoilers pretty pretty please)

Summary: Aymeric de Borel happens to come across you in Gridania during a business trip but while he waits for you to finish up your own business, two small children make him reflect on his dynamic with you. Perhaps this time he isn't the knight in shining armor...

Rating: E

Pairing: Botanist reader/Aymeric

It was a fortunate chance that Ser Aymeric ran into his dear Warrior of Light in Gridania. Initially this trip was to meet with the Elder Seedseer and personally deliver a few documents as a displayed initiative of Ishgard keeping contact with the rest of Eorzea. Or at least that is the polite way of documenting he wanted to take advantage of the rare occasion he’s able to escape his desk and to also take advantage of the even rarer occasion he’s able to take a small break from the everlasting winter at home in exchange for a brief change of scenery.

Judging by the subtle smile on Lucia’s face it was safe to say she appreciated the brief trip as well. 

After the exchange of pleasantries followed by work discussions, and finally after some light personal chit-chat the conversation with Elder Seedseer reached an appropriate conclusion.

Before parting ways, Kan-E-Senna mentioned with a curl of her lip that the Warrior of Light was spotted near the Botanist guild if he had a moment to spare or hell- if they were even still there. With the fate of Eorzea on their shoulders so often, the Warrior of Light was not one to stay in a single spot for too long.

“It would not hurt to stop by and bid greetings to our dear friend before we head home.” Aymeric eagerly suggests to Lucia as if he even had to explain himself. 

“It certainly would not, Lord Commander.” Her smile curls, matching Kan-E-Senna’s knowing one.

With the convenience of mini Aetherytes around, the two were at the Botanist guild within a minute. The area only feels somewhat familiar after being given a tour some time ago. As commander of the Temple Knights and head speaker of the House of Lords, he’s rarely in Gridania. Let alone in areas outside of the Lotus Sand and the airship landing dock.

Familiar with the area or not, there is no deceiving his eyes when he spots a figure he’d recognize anywhere. With his objective in sight, his pace unconsciously quickens. For speed efficiency reasons of course.

There you were, several yalms away. You look quite different aside from your contemplative stare aiming down. Rarely has he seen you outside of a heavy winter coat. He’d say your current attire matches well with the other botanists in the area.

It’s not until he and Lucia are much closer do they notice you’re looking down at three small children, two of them holding planter pots. 

For a moment, you crouch down, taking the small pot carefully in your hands as you inspect the dirt. Quietly, Aymeric admired the way your brows pinch together in thought as your eyes observe the object in hand. What you said was inaudible to him but it made the small Elezen child grin with glee. 

Aymeric also smiles, feeling his heart flutter at the sight of someone so dear to him work so nicely with the children. He had half the mind to turn on his heels so as to not disturb the moment but he becomes sealed in place the moment your head finally turns towards the two.

Your eyes widen briefly but the wide smile that blooms quickly after the initial surprise could bring spring to Ishgard. 

“I hope we are not interrupting.” He returns the smile.

“Oh no! Not at all!” You fervently shake your head and stand upright. “It’s good to see you’re both outside of the winter wonderland.” You chuckle. “Is it business or pleasure that brings you out here?” 

“It is indeed a pleasure to have a change of scenery but alas, it is business that brings me here today.” Aymeric gives you a slight nod. “Is it business that also occupies you today? I would not want to pose as a distraction from your current company.” His hand motions to the three small children beside you.

You glance down at them for a moment before shaking you head. “Nah, just helping the little ones get some proper soil for their plants. Got this one trying to grow some mint.” You slightly lift the pot toward him. “I been overdue to come by and check on the guild, well- moreso Fufucha.” An airy laugh follows.

“Fufucha?” A dark brow quirks up. The name faintly rings a bell.

“Fufucha!” You nod. “She’s the head of this guild- oh- I haven’t introduced you yet.” You gasp before turning to one of the small figures. “Hey, Fufucha! If you get a second I’d like you to meet someone.” 

With a perk of a small head adorning a sunhat, Aymeric stands corrected upon the realization that the small figures beside his champion were actually two small children and a single lalafell.

“These some friends of yours?” A soft southern voice inquires as she takes a step or two closer. As Aymeric more carefully inspect the lalafell he notices she and you wore matching hats. Yet another charming detail of his dear friend that will be added to the collection.

“Sure are! Some of my closest yet.” You nod proudly. “This is Aymeric and Lucia. Or Ser Aymeric if you wanna get fancy with it. I told you how Ishgardians have their fancy rankings but these are good people who helped me out and saved my ass lots of times.” You laugh, motioning your hand to the respected figures, ignoring said guild master muttering “language!” In a warning tone. 

The commander almost laughs from the casualness of the introduction but he’s long perfected the act of maintaining his cool composure. To know and be able to refer to those in high authority with such casualness was truly the privilege of the Warrior of Light. However, he is confident you would say it all the same regardless of your own title. 

“Miss. Fufucha was it? It is an honor and a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for providing your botanic knowledge to the people of Eorzea.” Aymeric gives a polite smile as he bows along with Lucia.

“I have heard through the grapevine that you and the Warrior of Light provided assistance to the farmers on Camp Cloudtop. For such deeds, I thank you once more.” There’s a prideful glimmer in his sapphire eyes, amused by his little play on words.

“As they have said, I am Ser Aymeric de Borel, commander of the Temple Knights. Tis the fancy way to put it as they have also said.” His eyes flicker to you for your reaction.

“I thank you for your service in keeping Ishgard, and my sprout here safe. I can’t take full credit of the work in Camp Cloudtop as that was mostly their doing. I just offered some sage advice.” The Lalafell nods.

“I heard plenty about you both though. Especially you, Ser Aymeric.” She smiles. “It’s nice to finally have a face to match all they said.” She innocently rests hands behind her back.

“Oh? Good things I hope.” It’s lighthearted but deep down he truly hopes you songs of praise match his of yours. 

“Of course! When they came back gushing about-” 

“OH-KAY! That’s enough! Boss, the kids need the good soil for these.” You quickly hold the small planter out to your guildmaster as an offering.

“You know where the good soil is.” Fufucha is unmoved with the exception of her arms coming forward to cross over her chest. 

“Don’t pay any mind to that.” You say to the two guests while glaring at Fufucha for a moment before sighing in defeat. “I’ll be right back but after that I’d like to get some lunch with you before you take off.” You pause, giving the raven haired knight a hopeful look. “That’s if you both aren’t in a hurry to get back.”

 “Not at all. That sounds lovely.” The acceptance leaves his lips unconsciously but he wouldn’t dream of redacting it after seeing your face light up. “As someone more local to the area, I trust you have an assortment of good recommendations.” He adds. He was already out, surely another bell or two wouldn’t hurt. This opportunity was rare enough as it is but to also have you here and not in the midst of saving the world again? He’d dare to say this was a blessing from Halone. 

“Right!” You grin. “I’ll be just a sec. Just don’t…” Your gaze flickers from Fufucha then to the two children gazing up at Aymeric and Lucia in awe. “Hey kids, you know those are knights. They fought lots of nasty monsters and stuff. You should ask them about it.” You initiate the shift in conversation before reaching for the other planter and heading inside the guild. 

Lucia smiles to herself as the two children gasp in awe and step closer. One was a blonde boy and the other a girl who looked a lot like his sister. 

“Are you sure you’re a knight?” The girl softly asks Aymeric while shyly twirling a blonde braid around her finger. “You look more like a prince.”

“I am deeply flattered by such an endearing compliment but I am in fact a sworn knight.” Aymeric chuckles, kneeling before the two. “May I be graced with the name of the fair maiden before me and her comrade?”

“I’m Ophelia!” The girl slightly lifts part of her dress and bows in a polite curtsy. “And this is my brother Oliver.” Her hand motions to the boy who curiously is peeking at the long sapphire blue sword on the commander's side.

“It is a pleasure to meet you bo-”

“Have you killed people with that?” The boy asks abruptly, causing even the knight himself to pause for a second. The boy's hazel eyes have a strange amount of sparkles for such a morbid question. 

“Oh definitely! Like daddy said, knights kill all types of things like dragons and bad guys and poor people.” Ophelia nods in agreement.

“Okay! That’s it with the blood and violence talk.” Fufucha interjects, waving her hands.”I’m gonna have a word with your father about what he’s feeding to you.” She sighs, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry about that.” She looks apologetically at Aymeric.

“It’s alright.” He assures her. “While weapons are created to harm, this sword is strictly for the use of protecting the people against armed villains. People such as yourselves included.” He softly smiles at the two children. “A long time ago my people did fight dragons but that war has reached its end and now the dragons live in harmony with us.” 

Ophelia nods a little before perking up once more with hopefully a less morbid response. “Okay so you did fight a dragon but have you rescued a princess from a tower?” She eyes him with mild suspicion. “The stories all say that knights have fought dragons and rescued their true love from the highest point in the tower!” She said matter-of-factly. “The knights also break the spell of their true love with a kiss but if you haven’t kissed someone yet it’s okay. I’ll still count it.” She nods rather sympathetically with a hand over her heart. 

A laugh escapes Lucia. She holds a hand over her mouth in an attempt to muffle herself.

Aymeric side eyes his second in command for a split second before clearing his throat. “I see… Thank you for your generous grading. However, I have not had the opportunity to rescue a princess just yet. Ishgard does not have royalty but rather a republic.” He tries to explain. 

“What about the Warrior of Light? I heard they slayed a dragon and a big one too!” Oliver stretched his arms out to emphasize the size. “But they whine about how tired they are of running through a lot of castles but I think they’re just being lazy.” He whispers, glancing at the door to make sure you weren't going to hear that. 

“In their defense, being a hero is quite exerting so I can certainly sympathize with their exhaustion but to answer your question, yes. They have saved me and my country by bravely slaying a very sizable dragon.” Aymeric chuckles.

“Are we talking about dragons?” The door swings open once more as you approach the party and crouch down next to Aymeric. 

“Our friends here are quite curious about your good deeds in Ishgard. They are in search of a knight who’s experience includes; slaying a dragon, saving a princess from a tower, and breaking her afflicted curse with a kiss from her true love.” 

“Ah, it wouldn’t be the first time I had someone request a dazzling knight in shining armor.” You chuckle, handing the two their respective pot. “But you’re right! I fought plenty of dragons. All of them bigger than your house with mighty large horns and massive fangs! But after taking down the biggest, baddest of them all, we’re square now. I have plenty of dragons I would consider good friends!” You proudly point your thumb towards yourself. 

“I ain’t quite saved a princess from a tower but I saved my friend Aymeric here from the tallest of them all!” You nod towards him. 

Upon a second of reflection, Aymeric supposed that the Vault could technically be considered a tower. 

“Was he under an evil witches curse you broke with a kiss?” Ophelia tilts her head innocently.

“O-oh no!” You laugh nervously and shake your head. Thinking more on it, you supposed his father could be considered an evil witch having conspired with the Ascians and and the other well… points that aren’t exactly the time or place to dwell on, let alone tell children. 

“Good enough! I have my answer!” Ophelia states. You and Aymeric exchange looks, both curious what it would be. 

“The Warrior of Light slayed a dragon and rescued Aymeric from a tower so I declare they are the knight and Aymeric is the princess!” She beams proudly from her conclusion. 

Now you, Lucia and Fufucha were having the laugh.   

Aymeric wishes he had a retort at the tip of his tongue but all's lost when he sees how the corners of your eyes crinkle as your smile widens. Times like this, outside the midst of battle you look so soft. The yearning is there to embrace you. To be enveloped in your arms and selfishly absorb the warmth you radiate. Like a comforting blanket that protects all in your reach.

It is the same security he hopes he brings. As Commander of the Temple Knights he’s saved more lives than one could count, slayed many beasts and served his country like a noble knight should without asking for anything in return but the Warrior of Light… Within your short time to Ishgard you became this countrys champion, his champion. You are like the sun whose rays could not be smothered by even the thickest of clouds. 

Countless times you volunteered to put you life on the line to protect his own men, reach out to someone once deemed a terrorist and turned the tides for the sake of peace, ventured to the clouds farther than his own men had ever traveled, slayed the very dragon who put their newly born alliance between man and dragon in danger. An alliance that might not have even been forged had it not been for the trust you built with them. 

You even saved his best friend. A man he feared would have to have been striked down out of his duty for Ishgard but where he lacked, you made up for it. Hell, he didn’t believe he would have stood a chance against Raubahn in the Eorzean tournament and but amongst the cage of flames you stood proudly as the victor while adorning Ishgardian colors.

Such a proud display of his peoples armor, snowflakes dusting your hair and, the fire in your eyes is a memory that plagues his thoughts an amount too embarrassing to admit.

With a soft inhale, he sighs. There’s a smile as he realized he has no choice but to accept this title. For it truly was the one beside him who rescued him from his fathers captive at the tallest point in the tower and ventured out far and wide to slay him. A task he still feels ashamed having not done himself but what’s done is done.

“Since I’m a knight, can I have my own set of dragoon armor?” You peer at him.

“What became of the Ishgardian armor given to you for the tournament?” A brow quirks up.

“I still have that but I think the armor Estinien had was way cooler. I think it would be neat to have my own one day.” You smile smugly as you cup your chin between your index finger and thumb. 

“While I do agree the Azure Dragoon armor has a well thought out design that suits the fighter and looks pleasing on the eyes, such a design is unfortunately reserved only for those appointed as the next Azure Dragoon.” 

“Aw man.” You sigh defeatedly and slouch your shoulders. “Well, if you’re not going to let me have that or your armor you’ll at least buy lunch, right?” With a soft groan you rise back up to your full height. A hand extends to him as an offer. 

“Now that I can certainly do for my knight.” He lifted his head up and reached for your hand. Gently he squeezed it as he rose to his feet, giving it a shake as a quiet promise of their deal.   

“Deal!” You smile and give him a nod before looking down at the smaller three. You take off your gloves, tucking them in your pocket before reaching out to ruffle the two heads, much to their dismay. “Alright, I’m going to head out but you guys take care now. I’ll stop by again soon, Fufucha.” 

“I hope you do.” The botanist smiles up at you before turning to Aymeric and Lucia. “Thank you for coming by today. You’re welcome to come by anytime and we’re always happy to help folks discover their green thumb!” She smiles, holding a thumbs up at the two. 

“Thank you for the invitation. It was a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss. Fufucha. Perhaps one day I may take you up on your offer.” Aymeric does a slight bow and returns the gentle smile. 

“Good luck to the both of you as well.” He looks to the two small children who wave and bid their farewells.

With a turn of the heel, Aymeric, Lucia and you were off to Old Gridania. 

“My dear Warrior of Light.” Aymeric spoke up after a quiet moment. “Pray, er- next time you and your comrades catch up do give them my greetings but perhaps they needn’t know of our newly established titles.” He softly suggests. 

You smirk, nodding your head a little. Your hands link behind your back as you lean closer to him. “Anything for you, your highness.” You softly say then add after a beat has passed. “However, you know those kids aren’t the only ones who call me your knight in shining armor.” You muse.   

[elizabethrobertajones]

G'raha's hand slipped from Frog's as they stepped from the aetheryte shard - she moving towards Borel Manor, he slinking towards the airship landing.

"G'raha?" she asked, stopping and alerting Aymeric to the pause. He had been walking a stride ahead of them, a careful distance he had kept through their visit; a gracious host for all Ishgard knew. Certainly not the Warrior of Light's other lover.

"I suppose I ought to leave you two together," G'raha mumbled, unable to meet their eyes. "I had a lovely evening, but I know your time alone is rare..."

Having been expecting at least to make it to evening drinks at the manor with the three of them after their dinner date, Frog looked pleadingly to Aymeric.

He nodded. The still-busy streets were the last place he and Frog had conspired to have this conversation. "There is room for you," he answered carefully, after a too-long pause.

"If it's alright, I'd rather get back to work once I'm back in Sharlayan anyway," G'raha said. "You don't have to go out of your way to accommodate me."

"Absolutely not," Frog complained. "At least come back for a - a brandy by the fire? Aymeric is extremely generous, you'll find."

A blush was clear on the Lord Speaker's face by the light of the streetlamps.

"Will you join us?" he asked in his silkiest voice.

G'raha suddenly, finally, understood what they had asked him.

Day 1: Sleeping Positions | First Time Sleeping Together

UNFORTUNATELY I saw that meme about the throuple sleepwear options but couldn't find a good way to put Frog in a fluffy dramatic sheer gown and lingerie since I don't use mods (or goofy loveheart boxers for G'raha). So. Bra and shorts like Hydaelyn intended. Boring red pants because blah. Aymeric still gets the Olde Timey Sleepwear because.... Neck line. And he looks cozy and I love that for him.

G'raha made a critical error in alerting Frog to his enormous crush on the "historical figures" including Aymeric extremely early on when everyone was still single and being stupid about it. She remembered that on account of having dramatically and woefully told Aymeric it would never work between them and broken his heart a few years earlier, so it was initially rather more mutual sympathy about the bloody unobtainable Aymeric.

Until G'raha found out just how badly Frog had fumbled Aymeric, and refused to take his new girlfriend being sad about this sitting down or accept a defeat on this unusual battlefield, and with much badgering and using leverage and favours owed, got them together.

There was an extremely obvious way for Frog to repay the favour, talked to Aymeric about it, and it only took about 10 third wheel dates with the catboy moping around after them to get to the point where G'raha was alerted to the fact he'd been courted all along and Aymeric wasn't just being overbearingly polite and suddenly a lot of weird things Frog had said about the collective "we" that couldn't possibly have included him did in fact include him and he'd beaten himself up out of believing it at every turn.

(This is honestly the only overlapping throuple of the extended frogicule at the moment and everyone else is just "this is my boyfriend and my boyfriend's boyfriend and my boyfriend's boyfriend's -" etc so I didn't have much choice of sleeping together ships XD)

[quinn-borel]

Edmont

A fresh dust of snow paved the way to his destination, his cane clutched in his palm as he felt a roar of excitement wash over him, yet his old legs couldn’t carry him as quickly as he would have liked.  Still, Edmont de Fortemps, accompanied by his son, Count Artoirel de Fortemps, hastily made his way to the main hospital within the Pillars.  Up that road, down this road, through this tunnel, and across from that house–Edmont knew the area very well, though necessarily not by fortune.  However, this occasion was fortunate indeed, for he received a missive merely hours prior stating that the Lady of House Borel had given birth.  ‘Twas an exciting moment that caused him to rip himself from his desk and summon the steward to fetch his coat—his ward, the woman who called him her adoptive father, the savior of Ishgard, had brought a new life into their cold, cold world.  And he was honored to be the first to be told out of the potential hundreds of others who could have found out about Ishgard’s newest blessing–not even the Scions knew.

Not even the Lady’s own parents were notified.

The pair made their way into the main hall, greeted kindly by one of the secretaries as she realized instantly who they were and what they were there for.  With a smile, she guided both men towards the maternity ward.  Each bed area was blocked off by partitions and curtains alike, giving each mother their privacy.  Though, towards the end of the ward one curtain was slightly ajar for just a moment as a gentleman made his way through the veil.  Immediately recognizing him, Edmont picked up his pace to greet the man before him,

“Ser Aymeric,” Edmont began, “how is she?  Is she well?  Are both mother and babe-”

“L-Lord Edmont, Lord Artoirel, we weren’t expecting you both to arrive so soon.” Aymeric said with raised brows, though a smile nonetheless, “They’re fine, both of them.  Though, the little one is asleep right now.”

My boy...I’m so proud��

Edmont held his tongue, giving Aymeric a nod, “I received the missive.  Is she...free for visitors?”

“Yes, she’s free for the moment.  I was just about to call upon one of the nurses to bring her something to eat as she is famished.”

“I can imagine, given the circumstances.” Artoirel stated flatly as he was so one to do.  Aymeric smiled and shrugged a bit,

“I’m not in the position to really deny her or delay her requests at the moment-”

“Of course.” Artoirel sighed, “I’ll tell the nurse to bring her something, you stay here with your wife.”

“Th-that’s very kind of you.”  Aymeric seemed rather flustered, but Artoirel knew that Quinn wouldn’t want Aymeric out of her sight.  He was there when the knight casually approached him and the Lord Speaker to tell them that Quinn had been in labor for two hours already, and for sure she was not too happy with her husband being as tardy as he was.  Obviously he had gotten an earful and then some.

“I’m sure she’ll forgive you...eventually.” Edmont chuckled, “Right now, I think you and the babe are at the forefront of her mind though.”

“Please, allow me.” Aymeric pulled the curtain back slightly to allow the elder in, just enough so that he could sidestep through.

She was sitting up holding a small bundle in her arms with an exhausted look in her eyes, yet that warm, glowing smile on her features was ever present.  Edmont was taken aback by the scene, for the last time he had seen her was at a party just a week prior when she looked like she was ready to pop and miserable as ever.

“Lord Edmont,” she whispered as she looked up from the babe, “thank you for coming by.”

“It is an honor, Quinn–err, Mistress Borel.” he said with a chuckle as he took to the chair next to her.

“You know ‘Quinn’ is just fine for me.”  Her voice was hoarse and soft, a harsh contrast from her more boisterous vocals.

“Well, is it a boy or a girl?” he asked curiously,

“A healthy little boy.”

“And what of you, my dear?” he sat his cane to the side so that he could offer his gloved hand to her, just as a father would.  She accepted it, giving it a gentle squeeze,

“I’m fine.  They said we can go home in a few days.”

“I’ve elected to postpose any meetings until I know they’re both back at the manor safe and sound, rest assured.” Aymeric interrupted before Edmont could question the new father’s willingness to put his own duties aside.  Edmont gave Aymeric a proud nod before going back to Quinn,

“That warms my heart to hear.”

“Would you like to hold him?”

Edmont froze, for the last time he held a child was when Emmanellain was just a babe.  That was years ago…he wondered if he still knew the proper way to hold one.  But, it was fatherly instincts which kept him at ease, and Quinn gently handed the tiny bundle over to him.

“I figured it would be nice for him to meet his grandfather.” Quinn beamed as she made the statement.  Edmont felt his cheeks go rosy at the thought, taking the child in his arms as he warmed to the idea of being a grandfather, even if he and the babe and the babe’s parents didn’t share blood.  

The little boy’s eyes were shut tight as he was perfectly snuggled into the warm swaddle.  Edmont couldn’t help but to wonder whose hair he got and whose ears he inherited, but he dare not disturb the child’s slumber.  

“Oh, by the Fury, he is perfect.” Edmont stated loud enough so both parents could hear his praises, “Have you given him a name yet?”

...

That’s when Quinn and Aymeric’s eyes locked on to one another, both grinning with delight about their little kept secret.  Aymeric rubbed the back of his neck,

“Well, Lord Edmont, we wanted to give him a strong name.  A name that meant the world to both Quinn and I.” he explained.

Quinn went on, “...so, Aymeric and I discussed it…and we decided to name him after a knight.  A knight that served Ishgard to the fullest.  A knight who was known for his kindness, generosity, and overall selflessness.  Those are characteristics we want to see in our son, so...please meet Haurchefant de Borel.”

…

“H-haurchefant…” Edmont stared wide-eyed at the child, “...Haurchefant de Borel.”

Quinn hesitated for a moment, unable to gauge the man’s thoughts by the way he looked at the babe.  Her gaze fell to Aymeric once more, who equally had a look of concern in his eyes.

Before either of them could explain further, the former count pulled the babe closer to his chest, his free hand wiping away what appeared to be tears rolling down his cheek,

“What...what a wonderful name.” he wept, “I am…I am so honored you chose to give that name to your own son.”

Quinn smiled softly, “He gave his life for me...I wanted to honor that sacrifice.  And we will raise our son to be just as honorable as he was, that we promise.”

“Oh, by the Fury,” Edmont sniffled, “to hear that name once again–Haurchefant.  Ah, forgive me. I am filled with joy, truly.  My ward, and the friend of our family, raising a son named after my own?  Words cannot describe not only my surprise, but my gratitude that you would choose to carry on his legacy in such a way.”

“We apologize that we did not run it by you first, but it came to us the moment Quinn held him for the first time.”

“We honestly didn’t have any names lined up beforehand.” Quinn admitted bashfully, “But, I think the name fits him perfectly.”

“It truly will,” Edmont said with a smile, “I have faith in you both to honor my son’s legacy...isn’t that right, Haurchefant?”

The babe cooed softly in his sleep.  Truly, he had quite the boots to fill.  But, with the guidance of his parents and extended family, he would grow up to be a knight worthy of carrying the name.

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Day 5: Stamp no warnings. word count 855

“Thank you, Katla,” Lady Akagane says, flipping through the various letters and missives, finding many of them for her husband. “Has any other news come in about her?” 

The older caretaker shakes her head, “No, my lady, I’m afraid the last thing we know for sure is that she was in Ishgard.”

“And that was over a year ago,” Lady Akagane sighs, waving Katla away, “I will see these to my husband, and see to it that lunch will be suitable to have outdoors.”

“Yes, my lady.” 

Katla gives a bow, leaving Lady Akagane alone in the sitting area, tears starting to form in her eyes, “Where could you possibly be my little Siberite?” The coarse envelope pulls her from visions of what could have befell her daughter, thicker and more crude than the rest of the letters with its grey envelope. While there’s no return address the Kugane ink stamp is undeniable as it sits above a pasted on stamp from the Thavnair embassy. Lady Akagane gasps, fingers rushing to open it, shaking hands pulling out paper with handwriting she knows all too well. “Honey!” She cries out running to her husband’s office, “Honey, my love, take a look at this.” She hands the letter and envelope to her husband, “Tell me I’m not dreaming, that you too recognize the handwriting.”

Lord Akagane exhales as eyes scan to the signature at the bottom, “It’s from her. There is no denying our Siberite’s signature.”

Lady Akagane takes the letter back quickly, hugging it to her chest, spinning around, “She’s alive! My baby girl is alive!”

“What does she say, darling?”

“Hm? Oh yes.” Lady Akagane clears her throat, and sits in an effort to steady her shaking hands.

Dear Mother and Father,

I shall start this off by saying that I am alive and well. I am also no longer in Ishgard, if you could not tell by the post markings, and by the time you get this I will no longer be in Kugane. So there is no point in sending Khutula after me.

I will keep what I have been up to brief. After I spent time in Ishgard, I went to Ala Mhigo to help with the resistance effort. It didn’t go quite as planned so I soon found myself in the Far East! It’s been liberated now, and I got to meet Lord Hien. 

Oh I should tell you I have befriended many a leader in my travels. From the Sultana to Ser Aymeric and to obviously Lord Hien. Which, if I am being honest mother, I can understand the reason for why he was a top choice for you. However we are just friends and I prefer it that way. 

Now that Doma has been liberated, along with Ala Mhigo, I don’t know exactly what comes next. For now I think father will be happy to know that I am finally putting my political studies to proof, as the aftermath is….something. 

I hope you both are doing well. I love you. And please don’t go looking for me. I will return home when I am ready or needed. 

Sincerely,

Siberite

P.S. Please also take care of the invoice I sent. It would be much appreciated. You can even take it out of my inheritance if you would like. Thank you!

“Oh did you hear that honey! She’s befriended Lord Hien and is alive and well!” Lady Akagane squeals, holding the letter to her chest. “Where’s Khutula? He must hear this, he has been as worried as I am. And I now have a lead on her whereabouts.”

Lord Akagane looks down at the handwritten invoice from a pawn shop, shaking his head and groaning, “She spent five million gil on a sword, dear.”

Lady Akagane looks over at the invoice, “No, it was only three. The rest is taxes and fees she has no control over.”

“That’s still three million for a single item. At a pawn shop no less.”

“Oh what does that matter. Our daughter is alive and well, and has befriended Lord Hien most of all!” The woman spins with a smile, “Happy news! Happy news indeed! And should the man truly be opposed to marriage then she has the Lord Commander Aymeric as a friend.”

“I believe he’s the Lord Speaker now that the Dragonsong War came to a close.”

“Hm? Oh right, yes. She has befriended the Lord Speaker Aymeric which is a close second.” She waltzes around the room, “Yes, I shall foster these friendships and encourage them to pursue her, and before you know it she will be safe and married and we will never have to worry about her again, my dear!” Lady Akagane gives her husband a kiss on the cheek, making her way out of his office. “My Siberite has befriended suitable matches, thank the Sisters!”

Siberite’s father begins to write out the withdrawal from their accounts, calling out to his blissful humming wife, “Please refrain from excessive letter writing, dear. We wouldn’t want to scare them off.”

“I won’t! I only mean to pen a few letters!”

[vixlenxe]

Pauses.

Lifts arm.

Sniffs armpit.

"... I don't smell anything-"

*THUD*

He was standing too close.

"........................."

"... You could use a wash or two, my friend..."

"........ Aye."

[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.

[dawnslight-aegis]

23. on cloud nine

(oops, I didn't actually get to the bit that would go with the traditional meaning of the prompt. anyway. no content warnings yet but this will eventually be edited and the rating will increase accordingly.)

‘Twas late, long past when Aymeric should have left his office and headed to bed, but his duties as Lord Speaker had caused him to let some of his responsibilities at the Congregation fall to the wayside, and he needed to set them right before things along the Shroud-Gyr Abania border erupted into all-out war.

A quiet knock against his office door drew his attention, and his Second Commander stepped in without waiting for an answer. He wore a heavy cloak over his armor to ward off the autumn chill, clearly about to head home, and Aymeric felt a twinge of guilt for keeping the man there so late, away from his wife and daughters. “Here are the troop movement reports you asked for, ser,” he said as he set them on the edge of the desk, out of Aymeric’s easy reach, “but I really think you should leave them for the morning.”

Aymeric waved a hand in acknowledgement, smiling faintly. “Yes, yes. I’ll be on my way soon, I assure you.”

“Good.” The man paused, then leaned forward slightly. “There is one other thing.”

He felt his eyebrows crawl towards his hairline as he took in the shift in Handeloup’s bearing, from official to almost conspiratorial. “Oh? What is it?”

“The door guards have just informed me that the Warrior of Light has returned to Ishgard, and was seen going into the Forgotten Knight less than a quarter bell ago.”

Aymeric froze. Typically speaking, when in Ishgard, Kaede preferred to stay in her rooms at the Fortemps Manor – or his own house, in his bed, a quiet little voice whispered in the back of his mind, to be firmly squashed – while it was Marzanna who usually took up residence within their reserved suite at Cloud Nine. There was no reason to assume this time was any different.

“Which one?” he asked, with what he thought was a quiet neutrality. ‘Twas curiosity, nothing more.

The look that Handeloup leveled at him told him quite clearly that he had not succeeded. “Ser, with all due respect – I would not bother to mention it, were it simply Mistress Kimbatuul come to start a bar brawl or some such. I would simply set an extra sentry near the Knight and be done with it.”

Heat warmed his ears as Aymeric rubbed his forehead and dropped all pretense. “Gods, does everyone know?”

The man sounded as if he was moments away from bursting into laughter, despite his sympathetic expression. “If your… regard for Mistress Kazarishi was meant to be a secret, ser, it’s a poorly kept one.”

He truly had no response for that, and his Second Commander grinned as he saluted and slipped out the door with a cheeky “have a pleasant night, Lord Commander.”

Pleasant, indeed. The object of his affections, she who had occupied most of his waking thoughts since the night she had confirmed that her feelings for him ran deeper than friendship, was just across the plaza, after being gone for nearly a fortnight. If he dared, it would take him only minutes to be at her door.

Taking a deep, steadying breath through his nose, Aymeric shook his head. She had not come to him, nor to his home. She had not even gone to her normal lodgings – which, to him, indicated either a wish for privacy or simply for rest, given the lateness of the hour. ‘Twould be presumptuous indeed for him to assume that a visit in the middle of the night would be welcome, regardless of the relationship that had been growing between them over the past two moons.

Firmly chastising himself for even entertaining the notion, Aymeric stood and walked to the edge of his desk, collecting the reports that Handeloup had delivered. He rifled through them, reading the same one three times before he realized that he hadn’t absorbed a word that they contained.

Clearly, he would be getting no further work done this night, as was likely Handeloup’s true goal. Collecting his own cloak, he fastened it over his armor and left the reports on his desk for the next day. Stepping out into the night, a sharp, cold wind hit his face and took his breath away – a late autumn blizzard was moving in, apparently, and snow was already beginning to pile up against the walls of the buildings. Aymeric pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and frowned. His normal route home through the Pillars would expose him to the wind and take more time than he’d like in these conditions – quicker to cut through the Brume, despite the danger.

The scar in his abdomen twinged in pain from the cold, reminding him of what had happened the last time he had thought to take that route, and he sighed. As he stood, seized by indecision and getting colder by the moment, his eyes fell on the Forgotten Knight, barely visible through the snow. The light in its windows called to him, the siren song of warmth and companionship far more tempting now when set against a long walk home in the dark and the cold, to an empty bed.

May the Fury have mercy on this lovesick fool, he thought with a sigh, and turned towards the tavern. The back of his mind cursed him soundly, but he could not alter his course. And so he stepped through the door, cloaked and hooded, attempting to attract as little attention as possible as he made his way to the counter. Fortunately, the tavern was all but empty, the patrons either driven home or to their beds in the inn by the weather.

Gibrillont raised his eyebrows as Aymeric approached, immediately recognizing him. “Well. ‘Twould seem I have the honor of hosting two important personages tonight,” he muttered under his breath as he wiped out a tankard with a rag that looked barely clean enough to do any good at all.

Aymeric leveled a look at the former knight of House Haillenarte. “I do my best to keep myself and those under my command well clear of your business, ser, and you have prospered for it,” he said, and the man grunted in response. “On the morrow, I will continue that practice. I only ask for two things: that you keep my presence here quiet, and –”

“Give you her room number?”

Aymeric groaned internally. A poorly kept secret, indeed. Unsure of what to say that might leave his dignity mostly intact, he simply stared at Gibrillont until the man sighed and nodded.

“Under one condition. That you not be using my establishment for your ‘clandestine meetings.’ I’ve a reputation to uphold, I’ll have you know, and sheltering slumming members of the peerage ain’t part of it.”

He could not quite squash the urge to argue the man’s claims, though doubtless it would fall on deaf ears. “I assure you, ‘twas merely the weather that drove me here.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that. Second floor, third door on the left. Don’t come cryin’ t’ me for a room if she throws you out on yer arse the way she did the last man I saw her take up there. We’re full up.”

Aymeric ignored the obvious jab – Kaede’s business was her own, and he was well aware of her extensive romantic past – and nodded in thanks before heading towards the stairs at a pace that could not quite be called unseemly.

Before he could think better of this entire mad plan, he was in front of her door, lightly rapping his knuckles against it. For a long moment, there was silence, and he was left with the internal debate of if he should knock again or just head home in defeat.

Fortunately, he was saved from his nervous indecision by the door cracking open and beautiful blue eyes staring blearily up at him.

Oh gods, he’d woken her up.

“What is it – wait. Aymeric? Is everything okay?” Her gaze sharpened, Warrior of Light rapidly replacing the tired woman before him, and he cursed himself for a fool. Of course she would think something was wrong, with him showing up in the middle of the damned night.

“No – I mean, yes, everything is fine. I merely –” he stumbled a bit, before shaking his head, the excuse about the weather dying unspoken on his tongue. “I heard you were here, and I wanted to see you.”

The reason sounded so juvenile to his ears, but… it was the truth.

A blink, and she was simply Kaede again, her surprise slowly giving way to a small, private smile. “Oh. Well. I didn’t think you’d still be up, or I would have come by.”

“For once, my propensity for working late does me a service. I must confess, I missed you fiercely.” The admission rolled easily off his tongue, and her smiled widened a bit in response.

Tucking a rogue lock of hair behind one of her horns in a gesture he was thrilled to recognize as one of flirtation, Kaede stepped back and waved a hand towards the room. “Would you like to come in? It’s not anything fancy, but it seems a shame to come all this way and then stand around in the hallway.”

Suddenly aware that they had, indeed, been doing just that, he ducked into the room and shrugged out of his snow-damp cloak as she shut the door behind her.

Turning to her, Aymeric opened his mouth to ask what brought her to Ishgard, when he found himself seized by the front of the coat and yanked down into a kiss, desperate and hungry. Off balance in more ways than one, he braced one hand against the door frame, the other sliding beneath heavy gold hair to curl, possessively, around the back of her neck. He had not intended, but gods, he had wanted…

Still, when Kaede finally relaxed her grip on him and slowly lowered herself back down from her tiptoes, he shook his head. “I swear to you, I did not come here for –”

Irritation flashed across Kaede’s face, and she sighed. “Aymeric. Do you really want to stand around making small talk a bell past midnight in a vain attempt to spare whatever tiny shreds of virtue I have left?”

Whatever protests he had meant to make caught in his throat as she stared up at him expectantly. The truly foolish thing had been to forget, even for a moment, that her directness was one of the many things he loved about her. “I… no. I do not.”

“Good, because neither do I. There will be plenty of time for talking in the morning. Right now, I would like to go back to bed, and I would very much like you to join me.”

“As my lady commands,” her murmured, before dipping down and pressing another kiss to her mouth, slower than hers had been, but no less heated. When they broke away again, there was a flush to her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes despite the fatigue, and there was a part of him that was proud indeed to have put it there. “Let me get out of this damned armor, and I am utterly at your disposal.”

–

Later, as they dressed in the dim pre-dawn light, Aymeric finally felt compelled to speak that which she had forestalled him from saying the night before. “Kaede.”

“Hmmm?” came the distracted, tired reply, and he felt a twinge of guilt for having woken her up from and shortened her much needed rest, but he forged on anyway.

Setting aside his surcoat for the moment, he walked over to her and looped his arms around her midsection, tugging her back so she stood flush against him. “I just want you to know,” he murmured, “that I do not take anything that happens between us lightly. That everything I do is rooted in respect for you, and in affection. That me coming to see you tonight was not a craving of the flesh, but a yearning of the heart.”

She went still in his arms, then let out a slow, controlled breath. “Careful, ser, or else I might think you were attempting to confess something.”

Her tone was trying for light and playful, but there was a tightness in it, and he did not know if it was born from hope, or fear.

Here was the moment, the crossroads. He could laugh and let the moment pass, and they could continue as they had been – more than friends, yes, but with no promises yet made. He could let her leave him again, for the Fury only knew how long, without saying the words that burned within him, that underscored his every thought and action towards her.

The mere thought was agony, and he could not bear it.

“And if I am?”

There was a long pause, and Aymeric’s heart sank as Kaede slowly extricated herself from his arms, gathering her boots and refusing to look at him. When she spoke, it was to the floor, her hair fallen in a curtain to shield her face from view. “I cannot be what you want me to be.”

The last time he had seen her, she had let slip her insecurities that what lay between them was not meant to last; that sooner or later he would tire of her wanderings, and seek out a wife and an heir as befit his station. He had attempted to reassure her, but held himself back from making any grand statements – it had felt too soon, their relationship too fragile, and to place too much pressure on it would be to have it dissolve like a soap bubble. But though she had seemed satisfied with his answers then, doubt had clearly set in in his absence.

Aymeric let out a frustrated sigh. “I do not want you to be anything or anyone else, only to be as you are.”

When she did not answer him, he knelt on the splintered wooden floorboards in front of her, sweeping her hair back and drawing her chin up, so that she might meet his eyes. There was apprehension in them, and blatant misery, but also longing.

He wished he knew who had made her so damned sure that she would eventually be tossed aside like refuse, that she would respond to love with fear.

Withholding the depth of his feelings had done nothing to secure her trust in him, so this time, he would give her the truth in its entirety.

“I love you, Kaede. Deeply, fiercely, as I have not felt before in all my life. There is naught either of us can say or do that will change that fact. And though duty demands much of us both, I will take whatever you can give me, and give all of myself I can spare in return.”

Aymeric watched as she turned his words over, her face a mixture of emotions that he could not begin to identify. Finally, she landed on a small, sad smile as she reached out and pressed a palm to his cheek. “You deserve better than that. You deserve someone who can give you all of their time, not just scraps of it.”

“As do you. But what either of us ‘deserves’ matters very little to me in this moment. I care only for what I want, and what I believe you do, as well.”

And may all the Twelve have mercy on him if he was wrong.

“I –”

Whatever she had been about to say was lost as the insistent ringing of her linkpearl, the same that had awoken them in the early hours of the morning, shattered the moment. She let her hand drop from his face and turned back to finish lacing her boots. “I have to go. I don’t want to, but…”

“I understand.”

And he did. Gods, if he understood anything about her, it was this. Even though it hurt, he stood when she did, and did not attempt to bridge the gap between them again.

He thought she might leave it like that, words unspoken and hanging in the air, but he watched her jaw clench and release as she pulled her hair back into a hasty ponytail, rather than her customary elaborate braid, and then she turned back to him, determination in her eyes. “I do want to finish this conversation, I just need to… think on it, a bit.”

“You will come back?”

“I will. I promise.”

The resolve in her voice went a lot way towards quieting the unease in his heart, as did the way she pulled him down into a kiss that was a softer, sweeter echo of the night before.

And then she was gone.

Aymeric raked a hand through his hair, and sighed. Much more of this uncertainty and he would nearly welcome the war that lay on the horizon. At least then, he would have a distraction.