#maelie ffxiv

[janzoo]

The Ironworks Gang Hands Out Starlight Gifts

Read it on AO3 above (registered users only) or under the readmore below -

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cid nan Garlond/Nero tol Scaeva, Maelie/Ronantain Characters: Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) - Character, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) - Character, Cid nan Garlond, Nero tol Scaeva, Biggs (Final Fantasy XIV), Wedge (Final Fantasy XIV), Maelie (Final Fantasy XIV), Ronantain (Final Fantasy XIV) Additional Tags: Oneshot, Original Male Character(s) - Freeform, Christmas, Starlight Celebration (Final Fantasy XIV), Nero tol Scaeva being Nero tol Scaeva, Fluff, Funny Summary:

It's Starlight in the Firmament, and the Ironworks Gang is joined by WoL Kyler Drake in handing out gifts!

Oh wait, what's this? NERO TOL SCAEVA WITH THE STEEL CHAIR?!

                Kyler smirked as he watched Cid fiddle with his Starlight hat again. “You know, it would probably sit better if you removed your goggles.”

                Cid shrugged. “It’ll stay long enough as it is. We’re nearly out of toys, anyway.”

                A fair point. Kyler’s toy sack was considerably lighter, and from the looks of it, Cid’s, Biggs’, and Wedge’s were, too. Wedge waved farewell to two children as they departed with new toys in tow. His toys had been particularly well-received, being a new invention: a toy airship that could shift and click until it transformed into a warrior. He called them Changers, though he could’ve called them anything and the children still would’ve been clamouring for them. Kyler’s toy toolsets came in at a close second in popularity. He took a particular note of pride and hope in inspiring the next generation of craftspeople and engineers, especially in the Firmament. After one thousand years of destruction, Ishgardians seemed ready and eager to see what they could create.

                “Thank you for joinin’ us, Kyler,” Biggs said as he placed a hand on Kyler’s shoulder. “Means a lot to the wee ones, getting’ a gift from the Warrior of Light and all.”

                Kyler nodded with a small, sincere smile.

                Biggs continued with his other hand raised in a pointed finger. “And that’s what this whole kerfuffle’s about, ain’t it? Much as Jessie says that this’ll help promote the business as well, it’s worth doin’ even if there weren’t no business to promote in the first place.”

                “Oh, I’m not so sure about that.”

                Biggs’ eyes widened beneath his goggles. “Nero?”

                Their gazes turned to Nero as he approached. Two mammets carrying a large sack followed in his wake. Judging from the corners jutting against the heavy fabric, and the uniform shape, it contained several boxes.

                Nero smirked and removed his sunglasses as he came to a stop. “Come now, genius and generosity are not mutually exclusive. There’s no reason why we can’t show off while being charitable at the same time. Especially when we’ve so much to show off in the first place. Well, I do, at least.”

                “Happy Starlight to you too, Nero,” Cid replied, deadpan.

                “What’s that you’ve got with you?” asked Wedge, one hand to his chin in curiosity.

                “Why, Starlight gifts, of course. Made by me.” Nero paused to look around. “Where can I find more children? This would be far more convenient and economical if they gathered someplace where we could find them instead of the other way around, but I suppose I can only expect so much from Eorzeans.”

                “There’s two over yonder, by that statue,” said Wedge, pointed to them.

                “’By that statue’ in Ishgard could be anywhere,” Nero remarked and put his sunglasses back on. “Come along, then. All of you, not just the mammets.”

                As fate had it, they weren’t just any children – at least, not to Kyler. As they approached, they overheard Ronantain pleading with Maelie.

                “You will be welcome in our house, Maelie, I promise.”

                “Are you sure? I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout fine dinin’, and I ain’t got anything fancy to wear.”

                “My uncle could teach you the basics of proper dining etiquette. And we could buy you a dress. Consider it a Starlight present.”

                Kyler’s smile widened as they reached the children. “Hello Maelie, Ronantain.”

                The children looked to him. Maelie gasped. “Kyler!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. “Happy Starlight!”

                “Happy Starlight,” Ronantain added with a smile and a bow of his head.

                “Happy Starlight,” returned Kyler with gentle laughter in his voice. “Can we have a moment of your time?”

                The children nodded with Maelie’s “uh-huh” and Ronantain’s “very well”.

                “Judgin’ from those Saint hats most of you are wearin’, are you all Helpers?” asked Maelie.

                Kyler nodded.

                Nero stepped in with a flourish of his arms. “I hope you children are ready for the greatest Starlight gift you’ve ever received. Everything before will pale in comparison, and everything to follow will be rendered underwhelming. Kyler, if you wouldn’t mind…” He indicated to the sack the mammets were carrying.

                Wedge nudged Nero’s leg and hissed under his breath, “You’ve got some nerve asking him of all people to be your bag boy!”

                Nero glanced down. “We’re Helpers today, aren’t we? Why wouldn’t Kyler want to help me bestow these children with gifts?”

                “It’s fine, Wedge,” said Kyler. “Today, at least.” He gave a pointed look at Nero, who shrugged with a victorious grin. Kyler retrieved two of the boxes from within the sack. He handed them to Nero, who handed them to the children.

                Ronantain read the text printed on the top of the boxes: “’Nero tol Scaeva Presents The Simple-Serve Oven’.” He arched an eyebrow. “Do you mean to say that there is an entire oven in this box?”

                “I do. Well, a miniature one, inspired by the cooking sets used by those of the Culinarians’ Guild but designed to be so simple that even tykes such as yourselves can use them.”

                “’Tykes’? With all do respect, ser, we may be children, but we are not infants,” Ronantain countered, his brows furrowed.

                Nero shrugged. “Children these days, my goodness. So ungrateful.”

                Maelie finished prying open the top of her gift box and cooed. “Ronantain, I think this really is a wee little oven.” She looked to him, excitement brightening her features. “We can bake treats for the patients at Ser Vaindreau’s!”

                Ronantain blinked at her. “Oh, I-I don’t know how to bake.”

                “I can show you! I remember baking with my mum when I was little…I think. It’s not so hard – you just put the ingredients together, mix ‘em up, and put ‘em in the oven.”

                “I can share a few easy recipes with you next time I come to Ser Vaindreau’s,” added Kyler. “I’m sure the patients will love them.”

                Maelie smiled at Kyler before turning to Nero. “Thank you so much for the gift, Mister Helper! We’ll put it to good use. Won’t we, Ronantain?”

                Ronantain cleared his throat, composing himself. “Aye, that we shall. Thank you very much for these gifts.”

                “Much better,” said Nero. “You’re welcome. Run along, now. You’ve got treats to bake and, uh, more of whatever it is you children do.”

                Both Maelie and Ronantain looked at Nero with a confusion-pinched brows for a moment. Then Maelie shrugged.

                “Let’s take these to Ser Vaindreau’s and set them up. Charlemend is there already, I’m sure he can help us if he’s not too busy already,” she said. “Bye Kyler! And Kyler’s friends! Thanks again!”

                “Farewell for now,” added Ronantain. As the children walked away, Kyler and company heard him say to Maelie, “Speaking of my uncle, he and I really would love to have you over for our family’s Starlight dinner. It wouldn’t be any trouble at all.”

                “It does sound nice. And…you’d really be willin’ to buy me a fancy dress for it?”

                “As fancy as you please. Like a sentinel tree ornament.”

                The last they heard of Ronantain and Maelie’s conversation was Maelie giggling.

                Biggs, Wedge, and Kyler fell into a conversation about what to do with the dregs of their toy bags – if they should combine them all into one, where to go next to finish them off, where to go afterwards for a good drink to celebrate. Cid stood next to Nero as their discussion began.

                “I’m impressed,” Cid commented as he put a hand on the back of Nero’s arm. “Even if I’m also waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

                “There’s no other shoe. I suppose you could say that the Saviour of Eorzea is rubbing off on me. Fighting alongside him instead of against him in Garlemald had me thinking. This is my gift to him, in a sense.”

                “That and showing off your genius is something of a gift in its own right, isn’t it?”

                “Oh, very much so. And speaking of gifts…” Nero reached into his coat and withdrew a once-folded piece of paper, which he handed to Cid.

                Cid eyed the paper for a moment before taking it. “Nero, if this is another invoice…”

                Nero smiled.

                Cid unfolded the paper. His brows furrowed. “This is a…a reservation confirmation for The Bismark?”

                “For two. In two day’s time.”

                Cid looked to Nero. “I don’t know what to say…and I haven’t gotten a gift for you yet.”

                “Just be there. And remember to wipe the grease and dirt from your face this time.”

                Cid chuckled sheepishly. “Right. That much I can do.”

                “I know.” Nero lowered his glasses, winked at Cid, and put them back into place. “Ah, ‘twould seem that Kyler’s spotted some more rugrats.” The two of them – and Nero’s mammets – began following Kyler. Nero looked to Cid as he noticed him fiddling with his hat. “That would likely sit better if you remove your goggles.”

                Cid removed his hat and offered it to Nero. “Perhaps you’d rather wear it instead.”

                “I’m not feeling that generous.”

[aminthea]

                                                   gladiator heart                          

[the-dragons-knight]

FFXIV Write 2021

Prompt #14 - The Dragon Queen

<Post-Heavensward MSQ, Post-Dragonsong War, Slight Spoilers ahead>

Commend - ‘to present, mention, or praise as worthy of confidence’

————————————————————

“That sounds like it must have been so scary, but also like an amazing journey,” Maelie smiled up at Katsum as she petted the small dragonet in her arms, “To have visited another world…it sounds so very strange, yet so fascinating!”

Katsum smiled back as she handed Midgardsormr, who sat on her shoulder, another piece of the cookie she had in her hands, “It was quite the adventure, there is no denying that for certain.”

Ever since the day the True Brothers began their attack on Ishgard and took the refugees of the burnings in the Brume as hostages, the same day that Maelie was dropped from the top of the Vault and Katsum jumped after her only for both of them to be saved by Vidofnir, they had been good friends ever since, especially as Maelie began to have a fascination with the Dravanians. And who better to answer any questions she might have than the ‘Queen of Dragons’ herself. Katsum grew fond of the young girl and told her as many stories and tales that she could remember in hopes to share the beauties she’d seen of the world to another who could scarcely even have dreamed of seeing such things not so long ago. Each time she came home to Ishgard from a journey, she would seek out Maelie or the young girl would find her and they would walk the city’s streets as they talked, waving hello to all they passed by and marveling at how bright and cheerful the city had become since the end of its long war. There was still much to be done to make the nation whole again, the progress so far was still so beautiful.

The dragonet in Maelie’s arms purred as it butted its head against her hand, as she scratched its scales, “You’ve seen so many amazing things, Katsum. I would love to see the Churning Mists one day, and the vast and endless seas of water, but I imagine not all things were so beautiful and good…”

Katsum chuckled softly, “You are a smart girl, Maelie. Always have been. Yes, it’s true, but,” She looked at her seriously, “Don’t let that stop you from going to find your adventures. There are far more precious and wonderful things out there to outweigh the bad.”

Maelie nodded, “Right!”

“And next time Vidofnir, you should ask her if she can show you the Mists, I am sure she would be happy to.”

“Really?! Oh yes, I certainly shall! Ah, I’m so excited just thinking about it!”

Katsum laughed at the giddiness of the young girl as it reminded her very much of her younger self which only made her smile more brightly. They soon made their way to the aetheryte plaza in Foundation, still talking and laughing as the snow fell softly around him. Katsum’s feline ear twitched at the sound of a very familiar voice speaking not far away and she turned her sapphire eyes to lock onto the royal blue regalia of the Lord Commander, and a warmth fluttered through her chest as she smiled brighter. Sure, she had seen Aymeric this morning and every morning since they were married, but that didn’t mean her heart ever stopped fluttering when she would see him. As they approached him and Lucia, who was standing behind him, she noticed that he was speaking to a Lalafellan man and young woman, who were both dressed in fine robes and furs of an Ul’dahian fashion. Curiosity swept over her as she and Maelie moved in closer.

“Ah, good morning Lord Aymeric and Lady Lucia,” Katsum mused sweetly as she smiled brightly at them, her tail swaying happily behind her.

Aymeric’s ice blue eyes warmly met hers as he too smiled, “Lady Katsum, there you are good morning. And a good morning to you as well Maelie, Midgardsormr.”

The little dragon just nodded slightly as he continued to munch on his piece of cookie while Maelie nodded her hello.”

The paladin woman turned her head in question a bit, “Were you looking for me? Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all, but I was about to search for you yes. You see—”

“I can explain myself from here, Lord Aymeric, if you’d like,” The Lalafellan man rudely interrupted her beloved as he stepped forward with a grinning smile on his muschasted face, making a sweeping bow before her, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Katsum. My name is Aguda Kesuguda, head of the stock and trade of Kesugu Industries of Ul’dah. Before I begin, I really must commend your undeniable strength and poweress on the battlefield. I’ve heard many tales, and while I have not seen them for myself, they never cease to send my heart aflutter to recall them, yes yes!”

The miqo’te narrowed her eyes slightly as her smile shrunk into a rather small and fake expression of kindness, shifting her posture into a more regal and defensive stance; the posture of a queen. This did not go unnoticed by Maelie as she took a step back and watched cautiously. Aymeric too noticed, yet he didn’t not say anything, only sighed at the interruption and eyed the noble.

“Yes, I believe I’ve heard your name mentioned before in brief passing. ‘Tis a pleasure, yes, yet what is it that you sought me out for?” She knew that pleasantries from a merchant of Ul’dah meant only one thing: they wanted something done for them. She had not the patience or care for such games either.

Aguda grinned and shrugged, “Ah yes, a woman of action, of course. Forgive me, it is but the habit of nobles to win over the other with flattery, but you and yours here I see are far too smart to play in such nonsense.” Katsum just stared at him and he cleared his throat, “…more so than I thought too. Ahem, I came to beseech you aid in a most urgent matter. I have a shipment of resources and supplies I am trying to transport to the warfront, and every time it begins to leave on its journey to Ala Mhigo, it has been attacked by bandits trying to steal its contents! It’s not been anything terribly dangerous of course, but I wondered if I could ask for your assistance in protecting it to its destination. Or rather, one of your dragons.”

The group stilled and Katsum’s eyebrows arched in confusion, “ I beg your pardon? And please do not repeat yourself, it is just an expression of my astonishment.”

The noble nodded, “Of course, of course. My reasoning for such a request is that while I could hire a group of mercenaries to protect the cargo, such beings can be unsavory themselves and cost right much gil you understand. But dragons are loyal and ask for nothing, with just a word from you and they fly to your beck and call. And what better way to show your power as a queen than having one of your subjects deliver rations and supplies to the soldiers and people of a wounded nation, hmm?”

There would have been a time that Katsum would have shouted at this man that he knew nothing of dragons and nothing of her throne, and to leave their city before she threw him out herself, but instead, she remained quiet and listened to his greedy words with that simple expression of thought on her face.

Aguda seemed to take that bait as a sign of winning her over as he continued, “So, what do you think? Could you spare a dragon to help out a poor old merchant deliver his wares to those in need?”

She saw Aymeric narrow his eyes, “Would they not appear to be supplies from Katsum herself then if a Dravanian were to be protecting them rather than from you yourself Lord Aguda?”

Aymeric had already caught on Katsum knew, and luckily he was laying out the road for Katsum to ride down as Aguda answered.

“I suppose they would, but I have little worry for that. As long as they get the resources they are due, yes? Plus, they would be packed in crates bearing my seal so a bit of publicity for everyone, hmm?”

It is a very interesting suggestion, my lord, but first I must ask,” Katsum clasped her hands in front of her as she asked, “Are these provisions truly yours?”

Aguda froze in that moment and her eyes sparkled silently; she had him, “Whatever do you mean by that, my lady?”

Katsum smiled to herself as she feigned a curious and oblivious expression, “Pray, forgive me for causing such upset, but I had heard the most awful rumor of stolen goods and provisions meant for refugees of Ul’dah recently, and even more unsettling takes of the people trying to take them back from the thieves only to be injured and then arrested on false charges. As some of those provisions were ones that Ishgard and Dravania both had traded with Ul’dah for such purposes of aiding those less fortunate, it seemed only right that the Sultana inform me of these most dreadful events. So again…I ask you,” Katsum’s expression narrowed and her eyes almost seemed to glow in her fury, “Are these provisions truly yours? And I would beseech you to speak the truth, good sir, for we shall know if you do not.”

The noble’s jaw dropped as she moved her first piece into the winning square. Indeed, she and Nanamo had been speaking on the subject just a day or so ago and how the Sultana was worried about how restless the people were getting at being wronged so, and Katsum had offered to keep an eye out. It had been her cargo originally anyway, and such fine Dravanian resources should not fall into hands they were not meant for.

Aguda finally got over his shock and glared at her then, “Uh! The audacity of such claims! I came to seek assistance, not to be blamed for such villainy!”

“Nay, you came here for a dragon —for a “free” guard as you said—that would discourage anyone wearing only tattered rags for clothing too afraid to step forward to take back what is rightfully theirs so that you could spread the name of influence into the city of Ala Mhigo, thus earning potential buyers for future trade. it was made plain the moment you spoke of dragons ‘asking for nothing’. Dragons are loyal to their kin and to those they have come to trust, yes, but if you truly believe they are so blind to follow mine or anyone else’s word and ask for nothing in return like a hound, you are far blinder than you believe them to be.” His jaw dropped again, yet she did not wait for him to answer as she pressed further, “Now, if that is all you wished to discuss, I suggest you take your leave of our city and see to the return of those goods to their rightful owners. Unless…you would like me to inform the Sultana of the information I have just come across and let her and the Brass Blades handle it..?”

Aguda’s face paled, and he tried to retain some of his noblistic confidence, “Why you—”

“Father, please!” Finally, the woman behind him spoke and stepped forward to stand in front of him with a deep look of concern on her face, “She offers you a way to fix it yourself, don’t throw it away with your shame of being caught! I told you you mustn’t do something like this and look where you’ve put us now!” His head dropped as the girl turned to Katsum and bowed her head, a look of sadness filling her eyes as she looked up at her, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea that he had gone through such lengths as this. Please, forgive us, and I will see to it that the supplies are returned to Ul’dah and given out to the less fortunate personally. Please, my lady.”

Katsum stared at her for a moment, looking her over and her lilac colored garments and grey furs. Her eyes showed sincerity yes, but the eyes can be made to fool anyone who looked into them. She glanced at Midgardsormr, seeing he too was staring at her closely, taking in his assessment. With a breath, Katsum summoned Raihogg’s gaze as the dragon’s eye gem began to glow softly and his voice whispered through her mind.

“Her words are genuine as her heart is broken by her father’s deeds. You may believe her as she indeeds to do just as she says.”

The eye in her necklace fades back to its shining red and blue color as Katsum’s eyes softened and she asked the girl, “What is your name, my lady?”

“Kemoda. Kemoda Kesugada, m-my lady.” Her voice trembled as she answered.

Katsum smiled, “There is no reason to fear, Miss Kemoda. I thank you for your honesty and in your offer to right what has been wronged. In return for the good being returned to their rightful owners, I will only speak of the matter being closed with her Grace, nothing more. No names, no suspects. But I will be checking in to be sure our goods were returned as promised.”

Kemoda nodded furiously, bowing low as she breathed, “Oh thank you, my lady! Thank you! You have my word, I shall fix this right away!”

The miqo’te nodded and the lalafellan woman turned and glared softly at her father amidst her worried expression, “Come father, we have much to work on.” With that, she started on her way towards the gates of Ishgard with a determined step in her stride.

Aguda glanced back at her for a moment before looking up at Katsum again and glaring at her, hoping to get in one final word she guessed.

But Midgardsormr hissed first, “Go now, mortal, while I still allow it.”

The deep voice of the ancient dragon seemed to be enough to send the lalafellan man running after his daughter, any thoughts of sassy retorts dying on the squeak of his shout of terror. Midgardsormr chuckled at this before going back to snacking on his cookie and Katsum took a deep breath and shook her head.

“I will never get used to politics and the games you must play,” She sighed.

“No one ever does I’d imagine,” Aymeric mused, stepping up to. her and leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, “But I dare say you are getting better at playing them. Well done, my queen.”

Katsum blushed lightly as her ears fell back shyly, though her warm smile spoke of her happiness, “Not in front of the child, Aymeric, please.”

He chuckled, and they glanced over to both blink in shock at the wondrous look in Maelie’s eyes as she watched them and she hugged the dragonet tight. She blinked as they looked, “Sorry, I don’t mean to stare, you both are just like a fairytale come true. ‘Tis a love I hope I find one day too.”

Katsum blushed again as Aymeric did and they laughed lightly as Katsum nodded, “I never thought I would have it myself, but thank you, Maelie. That is very sweet of you.”

The girl nodded before Lucia stepped forward then, “Regretful as I am to cut this beautiful moment short, there are other matter that require attention, Lord Commander.”

Aymeric sighed and nodded, looking to Katsum as he drew her into a short yet loving kiss, “Thank you for your assistance, Queen of Dragons. I shall be sure to repay your kindness as soon as I can.”

Katsum grinned knowingly, “And I shall look forward to it. Until tonight, be safe, both of you. And farewell.”

The Lord Commander nodded warmly as he reluctantly pulled back from her and turned to follow the First Commander back to Congregation. katsum watched him go before she turned to Maelie with a grin, “Well, shall we continue our walk?”

“Yes! Or course! Oh, I wanted to ask. How did the Dravanians first come to this world? You mentioned they were from another star right?”

“They did indeed. We’ll be happy to tell you.”

[dragons-bones]

"I’ve got a home now. A proper home with walls and everything to keep the cold out. Sometimes I still can’t believe it, and I have to pinch myself.

“You and your friends helped build them, right? All the houses? You’ve been so good to us. I hope I can repay you someday.”

[laidlays]

FFXIV has a system where you turn in items gathered for currency to specific NPCs called "Custom Deliveries" that'll reward you with currency specific to Crafters and Gatherers. a little detail I noticed while starting these is that the menu that shows what each client wants actually has their own unique signature and sometimes things on the margins! My personal favorites being the stickers put on Zhloe's menu by a child she's fostering and Ehll Tou's signature because they're a dragon, they have no idea how to write anything.

But one that I found really heartwarming is Charlemend, one of the many arrogant nobles of Ishgard who had a change of heart after seeing the peoples of Eorzea help rebuild the Firmament to house many of its poverty-stricken citizens. He meekly asks for our help in a hospital ward of the Firmament so that he can help contribute to the cause with his own working body, and at the same time, an orphaned Elezen child called Maelie comes to ask for the position as well. There, he comes to learn from Maelie that she has been running a whole orphanage on her own, spending so much time cleaning, feeding, and taking care of her family that she has had no time for education, nor the funds. You can even see how far apart their worlds are from their signatures in their Custom Deliveries menu. It's there that he starts calling into question why the current nobles of Ishgard are as stubborn as they are to help their fellow Ishgardians, and I can't wait to see how he changes for the better.

[diskwrite-ffxiv]

FFXIV Write 2018: #10 - Coward

Time: 1548 Place: Gridania

“Your stance is wrong,” the woman snapped. “Fix it.”

A tight breath chuffed through Ojene’s nose, and she spared a quick glance down. And she tugged her left foot forward, rolling her knee even with the poise of her front hand. She settled in, poised with legs only partway bent, frozen still as she awaited pronouncement on her best attempt.

Around her, the older Elezen circled, cutting a wide berth between them as she circumferenced the training room floor. Maelys Brouvame was a formidable Wildwood by anyone’s decree, with pale reddish skin spattered with the freckled wear of sunlight. Her dark brown hair cinched tight behind her head, its color yet unmarked by her fifty some-odd years- and her hazel eyes shone scrutiny behind her hawkish nose.

But instead of belting a correction, she lifted her angular chin. “Thrust.”

Forward, Ojene surged. Oiled ash slipped like silk through the curled fingers of her leather gauntlets, the dulled iron tip of the practice weapon spiking like a viper’s tooth into the practice dummy’s taut linen gut.

“Back,” the woman barked. “Now again. Thrust.”

Their work was the only sound that filled the Lancer’s Guild’s training circle, the moment a rare treat of solitude grasped in these late evening hours. And of the lack of judgmental eyes, the young Duskwight took full advantage. She struck to the sharp retort of Maelys’s voice, over and over and over again, filleting the once pristine beige linen with a staggering array of holes.

A drop of sweat rivuleted off her forehead, spattering against the dark wooden floor. And despite the dull ache that crept into the core of her muscles, she didn’t dare pause or relent or ask for a repose. It wouldn’t be granted- that she already knew.

“Good,” at last Maelys proclaimed. “Your grip is getting more consistent. Now away.”

As Ojene retreated from the dummy, her trainer crossed to the side of the room where a brace of spears sat propped in a massive rack. She stole the opportunity to wipe an arm over her forehead, dashing the glistening moisture away.

Maelys returned, darting the spear from one gauntlet to the other with handily ease. In her grip it slid like an old friend, like another arm, nothing more than an extension of her reach. And her stance too was fluid as she took her post in an open stretch of floor, quirking a hand to beckon Ojene closer.

She complied. And as she slid into her stance, Maelys rocked steady on her heels.

“The usual terms,” Maelys said. “Are you ready?” But it was less a question than it was a statement- she barely waited for Ojene to nod before she snapped her spear into place. “Set- and go!”

They lashed forward, cutting a dance as their spears clacked together in the center of the spar. Ojene tried to circle, to bounce away, to use the momentum in her favor but every time she made to counter her instructor flowed in turn. And the dull point of Maelys’s spear struck in again and again, quivering but half an ilm from Ojene’s padded armor.

“Stop,” Maelys barked, and their dance seized to a halt. “You’re trying to strike too soon. The first step is what?”

“Control the center,” Ojene swallowed a sigh.

“Yes. Skip that part and you’re going to die. Now again! I want to see you guard it first.”

Her muscles screamed with a keening ache but still she didn’t dare say a word. Every scrap of strength she poured to this, every onze of endurance she had to bear. Fighting and struggling and now and again succeeding- at least for the split second before Maelys once more turned her blade away.

But as they set to make the dance again and their spears met each other with a solid clack and twirled low, Maelys made a move Ojene didn’t expect- the spear bounced up to slip its point but a few hairs away from Ojene’s face.

She flinched.

“What was that?” Maelys barked, and before Ojene could react the butt of her opponent’s spear thwacked against the side of her ribs.

With an oof, Ojene stumbled back, the blow sound enough to leave an ache even through her padding. “It-” she stammered as she caught her breath, “it took me by surprise-”

“Does a lancer ever flinch?” Maelys slammed the end of her spear into the floor. “Are you a craven in disguise? The lancer never once shies from the specter of death! We take the lot of it on in turn. Unyielding should have been our given name, for that’s a title we snatch from the jaws of life!”

“I’m- I’m sorry.” All the tighter, Ojene clutched her spear. “It won’t happen again.”

“Discipline,” a single gauntleted finger stabbed towards Ojene’s face. “That’s the biggest thing you lack. And it doesn’t matter how much potential you may or may not have, if you can’t hold the line you might as well walk out that door and go. Training. I want to see you in here every morning at the crack of dawn. And you won’t stop until the sun begins to set. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes.” Ojene snapped her feet together, her back held ramrod straight. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” And something of the hard lines in Maelys’s face relaxed, and the spear dangled looser in her grasp. “Dismissed.”

The second time caught her by surprise but two moons later, an involuntary jerk in a practice demonstration in anticipation of a sudden burst of pain.

“No!” Maelys barked, and this time the butt of her spear crashed into the side of Ojene’s head.

As the Duskwight staggered back, forcibly clenching her hands at her sides instead of clutching at the stinging throb, Maelys shook a finger toward her face. “You must not be working hard enough! A hundred laps around the building! And I don’t want to hear hide nor hair of you until you’re done!”

And as she ran, shaking the lingering smarts from her skull, after a short time she felt their eyes. Her fellow trainees, sniggering from the stairs. A bristle shivered down her back, but no matter how many snatches of whispers her keen hearing snatched she refused to move an ilm. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction- like hells she’d let it show. She belonged here, no matter what anyone said. She belonged.

“Instructor Brouvame,” she called from across the road as that evening the lancers filtered back to their homes.

Maelys turned, and the sunset cast her brown hair in a reddish halo as she paused just long enough for Ojene to pull to her side. No matter how tenaciously the Duskwight fought to keep her pace even, there was no hiding the lilt her exhausted muscles threw into her gait.

A small pack of rookies filtered past them, and Ojene turned her back to their sneering eyes.

Maelys too didn’t spare the others a glance. “What is it, Suinuet?”

“I- I simply-” Ojene snapped to stand fully upright. “I won’t let you down again!”

“Mm.” Maelys tipped her head back as if to peer down her nose- but with the good fulm of height Ojene had over her there was something lost in the effect. “See that you don’t. The break of dawn tomorrow.”

If only it had never happened again. The third and fourth struck her like the first, a sudden reaction she couldn’t seem to control. And every time, she threw herself back into work. She would yank this craven Duskwight thread out. She would stand tall. She would be the unyielding. She would.

Five years later she stood not in the Shroud but on the top of a verdant La Noscean knoll. The grass swayed around her in pace with her breath. And as she gazed across the path worn into the dirt by the frequent pass of feet just beyond the Aleport town proper, she regarded the Sea Wolf who faced her with a nonplussed stare.

Not that the towering wall of muscle seemed to care. Half-turned to face the gaggle of drunkards she could only assume were his friends, the man who’d only introduced himself as Solksunn tipped his body at an angle as he curled his arms in an ostentatious flex.

Their boisterous ovations filled the air, and one of them shoved into his hands a massive curved axe. He rolled it in his hands as he stepped forward, his pale green face cut by a swarthy grin.

“Listen up, yeh knife-eared sot! Hold fer a second or two an’ I’ll be nice ter yeh after.”

“Bet she’d make a decent saltwife!” jeered one of his copatriots.

“Aye, mebbe she’d just! Yeh want to be meh saltwife, lass?”

“Did you come out here to actually fight,” Ojene’s gaze snapped from one to the next, “or did you just want to swing your empty traps?”

“Oooooh,” Solksunn crooned, “‘s got a bit o’ fire in her, too! Well-” he dropped his stance, hulking forward over his axe, “let’s see if yer reputation’s actually all that!”

Forward he shot, like a spring unleashed, and as he whirled his axe outward it caught the glint of the partly clouded sun. In his path Ojene stood, but her neutral stare budged not an ilm. Like a boulder unleashed he barreled forward, his broad feet kicking up loam. Fast- but not fast enough. Just as he was but a half-second from closing the gap, she sprang into motion. He swung high- she darted low.

The sharp rip of cloth filled the air, and Solksunn stumbled back. “Cor,” he muttered, the bravado blown from his sails as he slapped a hand to the slice through his shirt.

Ojene circled to the side, her spear quirked at an angle. “If this was a real fight,” she drolled, “you’d be dead. Look-” she flipped a hand toward his side.

“Pah!” he spat, and he seized up the handle of his axe. “A little scratch means nothing!” Blood dribbled into his newly ragged shirt. “Take guard!” And once more, he charged.

It took three more tries, of him spilling back freshly bruised only to launch another assault- but at last with a sharp jab of her spearbutt to his jaw, Solksunn lost his footing and toppled headfirst to the dirt.

“Fuckin’ menace yeh are,” he groaned from the dirt. “But I’ll have yeh… yet.” And his gesturing hand slumped to his side.

“You won’t.” For good measure, she kicked the heft of his axe way out of reach. “And if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go back to what I was actually doing.”

Though it was a touch risky, she turned her back to leave. But the sharpness of her ears only caught the rushing of Solksunn’s companions to his crumbled sides. And as she retreated, their laughter filled the air.

“She really got yeh good, didn’t she?”

“Shut up!”

“Did yeh see her when yeh ran at ‘er? She didn’t move an ilm. Looked like she didn’t ruttin’ care- an’ then yeh were on the dirt!”

“Yeh both can fuckin’ stuff it-”

“Navigator’s tits, she’s my hero.”

Down the knoll, Ojene swept out of sight.

[clarste]

timetickticksaway replied to your post:

i like the idea that Renko is just really bad with...

i was looking at a basic jp textbook recently and the way they wrote “mary” in japanese was exactly the same as the first part of maribel’s name is written

Actually, I feel like I’ve seen this too. But skimming through a google search or even a search on Japanese wikipedia indicates that this certainly isn’t a particularly common way of writing it in Japanese. Normally they go for either a more continental Maria, or Meari- (メアリー).

The top results for this google search, btw, are a minor NPC in FFXIV named Maelie, and the Touhou character. Which I wouldn’t expect if it were in common use for the common name Mary that’s used in loads of fiction and children’s songs and whatnot.

[the-dragons-knight]

FFXIV Write 2021

Prompt #10 - Heart Beat

<Post-Heavensward MSQ, but no major spoilers>

Heady - ‘having a strong or exhilarating effect’

————————————————————

Katsum hardly even noticed the cold as she fiddled nervously with her chakrams as she peeked around the edge of the tall curtains that hid the dancers from the eyes of the gathered crowd. She recognized many of the faces she saw amongst them. She saw Hilda and people of the Brume and the Watch, and the orphaned children who were talking and laughing together. The counts of the four noble houses were gathered as well; in fact all of House Fortemps was in attendance. Even Vidolfnir and a few of the young dragonets from Anyx Trine had come, the great white dragon laying back behind the crowd a ways where she was talking with Lucia and Maelie, the young dragonets fluttering curiously above her while they chattered excitedly to be in a city of man. While seeing these familiar faces certainly did not help ease her worry, the true culprit of her anxiety was the raven-haired commander that was having a deep conversation with a few of the temple knights; Aymeric de Borel.

Her cat-like sapphire eyes traced the contours of his profile, watching his lips move and his eyes alight as he gestured towards the two knights and they smiled and nodded. The snow flakes in his raven black hair did not go unnoticed either, the bits of ice forming a halo. He looked ethereal, like a handsome prince, and it brought the warmth to her face still to know that he had chosen her. The way her heart melted when they were together was still so strange to her, but the way it had fluttered that night and through that first kiss, she’d never forget it. The only issue is that now she would feel so shy sometimes around him, and she worried about what impression that gave people having only seen her be the stoic and serious knightess of light.

“So…are you going to go and talk to him, or do I need to do it for you?” Katsum jumped at the voice that came from behind her, her tail fluffing up as she turned to see Ranaa standing there, a wide-eyed look on her face before she giggled, “My goodness, I’ve never seen you caught off guard, Katsum. Are you alright?”

Katsum sighed and tried to compose herself and wipe the warmth from her cheeks as she found it hard to meet her gaze, “Yes. I’m alright. Just…seeing how many people had gathered.”

“Aaaaaand looking for a certain someone, yeah? Who is he?” She winked at Katsum before slowly backing off, “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

Katsum felt her ears lift from her skull as she realized she’d been glaring, her features softening as she reached out towards Ranaa, “No, no, I’m…I’m sorry Ranaa. I'm not used to my thoughts showing so freely. It's very strange to me.”

Ranaa blinked, but nodded with a soft smile, “It’s because of that man, yes? He’s quite handsome, and very kind and noble from the conversations he is having.”

A breath of a smile graced Katsum’s lips as she nodded, “He is Aymeric de Borel, the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights and the leader of Ishgard itself…and he is indeed a very noble and chivalrous knight.”

“Aw, and he’s caught your eye, I see! Well, my question still stands, do you need me to introduce you?”

“N-n-no, we are already well acquainted I…” She sighed before she spoke seriously, “He and I know each other very well, I assure you. I just…get nervous around him sometimes lately.” No one knew they were seeing each other as they had decided to keep it secret until the excitement in Ishgard had settled so that no odd rumors could truly gain any traction. Still, it was hard to wear her emotionless mask around him as much anymore, and she could only guess what that meant.

“Probably on account of your feelings for him I’d guess, but that means this is the perfect chance to get his attention!” Ranaa excitedly bounced on her heels as her tail swished with her excitement, “You dance so beautifully and so gracefully there is no way he won’t notice! And as we are lifting their spirits and fighting against the shadows weighing down their souls, he surely won't be able to take his eyes off you!” She grinned and gestured to the Thavnarian style dress Katsum wore, “And with that exotic dress, who could resist looking at you~”

Katsum’s jaw dropped as her embarrassment returned, “Ranaa, please!”

The dark-skinned miqo’te giggled as she started stepping backwards, “Alright, we are ready to start whenever you are, yeah? You look amazing as always, Katsum, and you’ll be sure to chase any shadows with your dance.” She then turned and headed back to the other trope members.

The blonde miqo’te sighed and stood up straight, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to steady herself and calm her nerves. Her feelings for him. The fluttering in her chest and the want to be around him and spending time with him.When put like that, it was little wonder it was hard to wear her ‘mask’ as it surely fell off every time her heart started beating out of her chest. There was a part of her deep down that was excited to dance for him too she realized, and so she tried to tap into that feeling as she turned and followed Ranaa so that the show could begin.

— — — — — — — — — —

“Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you all for coming!”

Katsum gripped her chakrams tightly as she listened to the trope member’s words, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Ranaa placed her hand on her shoulder and nodded with a smile, a quiet affirmation of ‘You got this’ to which Katsum smiled weakly back and nodded. Her heart was still beating loudly in her ears, but she focused on her breathing and then ran through the steps of the dance in her head.

And she planned to lock eyes with him the very moment she could.

“Without further ado, I give you…the dancers of Trope Falsiam!”

In unison, she and Ranaa moved into their starting poses as the curtain began to draw back. Katsum peered through her chakram where it covered most of her face, waiting impatiently to catch the ice blue gaze of the Lord Commander. As the curtain revealed them, the crowd erupted into applause, but the only thing Katsum saw was Aymeric’s widened eyes as he saw her. It scared her for a moment before she noticed the red dusting on his cheeks and she realized he was flustered slightly. That made her heart flutter in kind and spurred her feet forward.

The music began and the two dancers moved and spun to the beat, slow at first as they awaited the rest of the instruments to join the lute, ever moving further onto the stage as they did. Katsum kept her eyes locked with Aymeric as she spun on her foot and sliced through the air slowly with her chakram, willing her body to move more gracefully than she ever had before. He seemed to be locked into place, his eyes following her every move. She blushed lightly at the thought but she smiled warmly at him, which he returned.

The music picked up then and a new confidence burned in her breast as she quickened her steps and sliced through the air. The colored petals and feathers of light began to appear to the amazement of the crowd as she and Ranaa danced on opposite sides of the circle moving clockwise around it. And as the lights grew, the shadows began to take shape, the darkness slithering out of the peoples hearts and into the ring, gathering together into the forms of many-faced monsters. The people gasped at the sight of them but Ranaa and Katsum continued to dance to calm them. As the knightess drew near to one, the shadow hissed and reared back its clawed hand.

“Now, Raihogg.” Katsum whispered and her necklace glowed gently, a new red light of dragon scales appearing around her as she spun and threw her chakrams into the attacking shadow. Again it hissed and tried to advance, but she was far too quick, catching her weapons and throwing them again in quick succession to push it further back. She glanced over to Aymeric again, seeing his eyes brightly shining with amazement as the crowd around him cheered and she grinned and wound up her next step. Crouching low, she called for Raihogg’s strength again to brighten the glowing scales as she held her weapons close and ready for the jump. With a breath, she launched herself forward, spanning a few yalms in the blink of an eye and slicing through the shadow as she passed through it. The beast screamed before exploding into sparks and fading away.

Another scream echoed behind her and Katsum spun gracefully to see Ranaa taking down the other one at that same moment. She grinned confidently at Katsum and they returned to their dance, spinning and slicing the air as they danced the circle and moved towards each other in the center. When they finally reached it, they danced around one another for a moment before they turned back to back and froze their starting position once more facing the crowd, the beat of the music ending as they stopped. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers at their performance, the air about them all feeling much lighter now that the darkness had been vanquished. Katsum and Ranaa smiled at each other as she relaxed and bowed to the crowd with the rest of the troupe.

— — — — — — — — — —

Katsum bowed in thanks as the few temple knights waved their goodbyes and made their way back to their posts. She sighed contently, happy to know their spirits were a bit lighter this day without so much darkness whispering of all they’d lost in the war. It made her happy to know that a ‘simple’ dance was able to help them breathe a little clearer.

“Ah there you are,” She turned to meet the ice blue gaze of the raven-haired commander as he stepped up to her with a warm smile on his face, “I am glad to have caught you before you left. That was an amazing performance. I had no idea you were dancing!”

Katsum smiled shyly, twirling a strand of hair as her tail swished behind her bashfully, a shiver slightly shaking her for a second before she replied, “Thank you, and yes, I’ve been working with the troupe for a few months now and learning their dances. It was they who found me after a storm destroyed my boat as I was sailing away from my home, and they who found Soldier and brought him back to me. I’ve kept in touch ever since, and finally decided to learn the Dancer’s trade.”

He nodded, “I remember when they brought your horse to Camp Dragonhead, and might I say that you have certainly learned the trade well,” His eyes flitted down for a moment and she blushed as she realized he was trying his best not to stare at her exposed skin, “It was certainly a beautiful…and deadly dance.”

She shivered again as her ears dropped and she nodded, “T-Thank you.”

His smile faded as he noticed her shiver and quickly shed himself of his fur coat, “May I?”

She blinked in surprise but nodded, letting him move close and drape the coat over her shoulders. Katsum smiled and wrapped the furred coat around herself, happily breathing in his scent that lingered on it, “Thank you, Aymeric. I didn’t realize how cold I was.”

“Of course. Can’t have the Warrior of Light freezing after her most beautiful display of dance…” Aymeric swallowed thickly then, a bright blush dusting his cheeks as she noticed he was fidgeting and pulling down his royal-blue shirt collar slightly as his eyes darted back and forth from her own to where his coat hid her dress.

“Aymeric, are you…?”

“Yes, yes! Of course, I am just fine, I assure you…I would just like to say…you were stunning and I could scarcely take my eyes off of you, but I also would ask perhaps…could you wear a different dress for your dancing? While this one is…ravishing, it is rather…revealing if you understand my meaning.”

It took a moment for it to truly hit her what he had said, yet the moment it did, Katsum’s ears stood up as her tail fluffed and a deep red blush covered her face. Becoming far more subconscious than she had been, she wrapped the coat around her more tightly, hiding her burning face against the furs of the collar.

She nodded as her entire body burned from embarrassment, “I-I’ll uh…see what I can do…but i’ll also hang on to this one…in case I ever…need it…”

Now it was his turn to blush darkly and they both thanked the heavens no one around to see, “Right! As you should. Never uh…never know.”

She nodded as she coughed and shook her head to clear her mind, and brought up another topic to speak on which he was most gracious for and soon the moment of embarrassment had passed. From afar, Ranaa watched out of the corner of her eye while she was speaking to some of the audience members and smiled seeing them, happy to see that someone was helping Katsum find the parts of herself that lay hidden under her stoic mask.

[the-dragons-knight]

FFXIV Write 2021

Prompt #18 - Perspectives

Devil’s Advocate - ‘a person who advocates an opposing or unpopular cause for the sake of argument’

————————————————————

“Katsum, you must remember. These men have lived far longer in a world where every dragon they crossed tried to kill them and everyone around them,” Aymeric chided, gently setting down the cup of tea on the table in front of her, “I too came from the same outlook though not as long as most of these men have lived, and we simply did not have the same upbringing with the truths and stories as you did.”

Katsum sighed, shaking her head as she lifted her tea cup and looked down with a scowl at the dark drink that had a little heat still steaming off of it, “I know that, I do…or I try to,” She meet Aymeric’s gaze as he sat in the chair beside her, “It’s just after all that’s happened since the end of the war…and even during like Vidolnir saving Maelie and Raihogg threatening Nidhogg’s shade when he attacked the peace conference! Surely they should be able to see. You do!”

Aymeric sighed gently, “You must look at it from their perspective, Kat. To you, you could see their intentions. You could understand their motives. To the others gathered, it was a beast they were taught to fear being far closer than they believed they ever should be.”

“Then why not just hear what I have to say and try and see through my eyes as well?”

“Because they are old men stuck in their ways and incredibly stubborn.”

“I am stubborn as well—”

“Yes, my love, trust me I know,” She frowned at this and he quickly retracted, “I-I mean that in the best way, kat. You know that right?”

“I think so…,” She looked down at her hands again, “Sorry, yes, I’m just…frustrated.”

Her ears perked as she watched his hand move to rest on hers, softly caressing it with his thumb, “If only it were that easy, Kat, yet you yourself have seen how they are. Indeed, those actions helped them see that the dragons were not of the mind to fight, yes, they still needed time to see the full truth within their hearts. While many have come to see it, others still need time to. And while I agree that yes they should just listen to us, especially with your loving heart only hoping for peace and the harmony you’ve heard of all your life, they are just far more headstrong and unwilling to compromise than you could ever be.”

The miqo'te blinked before she huffed and shrugged, “I don’t know about all of that but…I’ll try to not be so quick to snap, ok?” She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye as she took a long sip of her tea. She knew he was right, yet her patience was always tested when one of said stuffy nobles tried to talk down to her about her dragons and the ‘blight it brought their proud history’. How she wished she could freely control and share the echo so that she could show them the real truth, just to silence their petty rambling.

Aymeric’s chuckle broke her from her trance as she looked up at him, blushing slightly at the intensity of his smiling eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing really. Just admiring you,” He lifted his own tea cup to his lips without taking his eyes off of her as he grinned and added, “And whether you believe it or not, your kind and caring heart is beautiful, and a shining ray of hope.”

Her blush darkened as her ears fell again, “T-Thank you, Aymeric.”

“Of course, my Kat.”

She smiled sweetly at him and they took another sip of tea together, soon finishing their first cups. Aymeric moved to pour himself another and filled Katsum’s again as well as she set it on the table.

Katsum chuckled pitifully as she dropped another cube of sugar in her cup, “If only I was better at politics and speaking with them lik you are.”

“By the Fury, do not wish for that,” Aymeric laughed tiredly as he sitrred his tea, “It is utterly draining, always speaking with them about the same matters every few days, and they are hardly ever up lifting their decisions. Oftentimes, we do not settle a matter, but rather postpone it before it comes to blows. It was worse in our first few discussions, but the slight issue of it is still present,” He raised his cup to her, “Thank the heavens I have your loving arms to come home to and rest my soul within.”

The knightess smiled, “Happy to be of service, my lord.” She raised her cup to tae another happy sip of the delicious tea.

“You’ll still accompany me on this last meeting, yes?” He asked softly, an apologetic tone to his voice and a pleading look in his eyes.

Katsum nearly spit out her tea, “Another meeting? I thought we just finished the last one!”

“We did, yes…and there is one more.”

Katsum groaned, “Aymeric, I cannot handle another meeting today…I don’t know how you can stand so many!”

“I can because I give myself something to look forward to after it is over. For example, I often just remind myself I shall be home and spend time with you as soon as it is over. So, I offer this,” He leaned close to her and whispered in her ear, “We will spend the rest of the day laying in bed and cuddling. What say you to that?”

She grinned and looked up at him, “We would have done that anyway, Aymeric.”

“Yes, but now you are looking forward to that more, yes?”

“…Touche.”

“So?”

“Alright, very well, you have convinced,” She leaned her head on his shoulder, “Can’t have my knight suffering alone after all.”

He smiled warmly and leaned in to peck her lips sweetly, “You have my deepest gratitude, my love.”

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #9: Finally

Prompt: hesitate | Master Post | On AO3

“Now, this time,” the chirurgeon said, tone icy as he finished tying off the bandage, “I expect you to rest. That means you are to stay in bed. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Yannistand,” Aymeric said. It took most of his willpower to keep from sounding like a meek recruit under the force of the elder man’s glare.

The Temple Knight’s chief chirurgeon sniffed and gathered up his supplies. With one last pointed glare at the Lord Commander, he turned on his heel and strode from his private quarters in a swirl of robes and palpable disdain.

Aymeric let out a quiet breath of relief and gingerly leaned back against the pillows piled behind him. He wasn’t entirely sure where they had all come from; not even his bed back at Borel Manor had so many. The likely suspects were, of course, his own Temple Knights, and he dearly hoped they hadn’t stripped the barracks of all the pillows that were actually supportive.

He should offer up prayers to the Fury. As Yannistand—and Handeloup, and Lucia, and then Handeloup again, and Lucia a second time, and a third, and then of course Yannistand yet again, with quite a bit fouler language than previously—had told him, multiple times, he had been profoundly lucky. That the assassin’s knife had only knicked one of his internal organs, rather than perforated, firstly. That Count Edmont and Lord Artoirel had been with him when he was attacked, and had managed to keep him from bleeding out before his Knights arrived, secondly. That he had torn only his external stitches, not reopened the internal wounds, during the rescue of the hostages from the Vault, thirdly.

Truly, though, little Maelie was the luckiest of them. If Vidofnir had been even a moment later to arrive…

Aymeric shuddered. No, that did not bear thinking of, either her averted fate or the repercussions should it have come to pass.

He eyed his bedside table speculatively. Lucia had promptly whisked away all of his usual paperwork when Yannistand had hauled him to his room to redo his stitches and redress the wound, with Handeloup a step behind her depositing a pile of books in its stead. Leisure reading, of course; he recognized more than one pulp novel that had been making the rounds in the barracks.

He was in the processing of reaching for the top book when his linkpearl chimed. He blinked in confusion; that was Lucia’s line, and she had been adamant that he was to rest.

Aymeric picked up the ‘pearl cuff and held it to his ear. “Yes, Lucia?”

“Sir, this is your only warning: Synnove is furious. She’s also, mmmm, probably two-thirds of the way to your quarters by now.”

At that point, a loud BOOM echoed through his quarters: a very, very loud knock on his door. “AYMERIC DE BOREL,” a very familiar voice roared.

“Oops. I seem to have miscalculated.” Lucia was utterly unrepentant. Then, before she cut the connection, her voice came back over the line, oddly sing-song: “Good lu~uck.”

Aymeric lowered his hand, staring at the linkpearl cuff in horrified silence. Lucia had been spending far too much time with Rereha.

The pounding knocks picked up again. He set the cuff aside and called, “Come in, Synnove!”

He heard and felt the door burst open and crack against the wall from the force with which Synnove Greywolfe, then slam shut again. Four stomping strides and she turned the corner from his tiny receiving parlor (a term mostly used in jest by the Temple Knights) into the bedchamber. Lucia had been understating it: Synnove was incandescently furious, emerald eyes blazing in such a way that he swore they were aglow with the Dreadwyrm’s own aether once more.

“You,” she said, pointing at him with a shaking hand, “are fucking trouble.”

Her voice had lost the refined, arcanists’ clip many of the assessors of Mealvaan’s Gate picked up during the course of their studies. It was, in fact, very strongly Ala Mhigan, with a strong influence of the Vylbrandian cant most Lominsan pirates used. Synnove only spoke in such a manner in fits of strong emotion, and he’d heard both Alakhai and Dancing Heron call it ‘a horrifying butchering of good language.’

“You damned bloody fool, going into battle with a fucking gut wound that was still healing! What in the HELLS were you thinking?!”

Were it anyone else, such an accent would sound quite horrible. But from Synnove, when she spoke it from passionate anger or laughing to the point of tears or the very depths of sorrow? How it could be anything other than wonderful?

Synnove was advancing on him, still yelling and cursing, until she was leaning over him and had her forefinger practically in his face. Were he any other man, who didn’t feel what he felt for this marvelous, woman, he might have quailed at her rage. He had fought by her side in the Vault, however, and he knew what she looked like when her rage was aimed at someone whom she hated, for whom she felt disgust, as she did towards the terrorists who had thought to spill innocent blood in their blind zealotry.

This was anger born of worry, of fear, of not knowing if a loved one was hurt beyond saving. It the anger of relief, the anger of pent up emotion that needed an outlet—and a raised, shaking voice was all that would do.

Perhaps being three times lucky under Halone’s watchful gaze meant it was time to cease denying what was between them.

Aymeric reached up, gently grasping her wrist, and dropped a kiss on Synnove’s palm. The woman stopped mid-rant, dropping her eyes to stare at her hand, then raising them again slowly to meet his. Her pupils had widened in shock, but he’d known her long enough by now to also know she wasn’t angry. Not at this. He smiled up at her, gently.

Synnove stared at him for another three heartbeats, then said, “Ah, to hells with it,” grasped his face in her hands, and kissed him.

He couldn’t help it—he grinned, laughing quietly against her lips. They were warm and only slightly chapped—she hadn’t been wearing that gloss of late, the one she had used to combat the cold, dry Coerthan air during her stay at Fortemps Manor—but it was far and away better than anything he had ever dreamed. She chuckled as well, the sound vibrating through him pleasantly, before she drew back and rested her forehead against his.

“You’re still an idiotic fool for that stunt,” Synnove said, but the grin she wore took the bite from her words, as did the way she brushed his cheeks with her thumbs.

Aymeric cupped her face in his own hands, smiling. “So I have heard from many people today.” He tilted his head to brush another kiss against her lips, and murmured, “I love you, Synnove Greywolfe.”

A blush stained her cheeks, making the grey clan tattoos stand out, and she beamed at him. “I love you, too, Aymeric de Borel.”

He beamed back at her, warmth suffusing him.

“All right,” she said, drawing back to make a shooing motion with her hands at him, “budge over, I want to cuddle.”

Aymeric laughed, but did as requested, carefully moving sideways until there was room for Synnove on the bed next to him. She kicked her boots off—how she managed that with thigh boots he hoped to one day find out—and crawled in next to him, pressing up against his side while he wrapped an arm around her waist. She dropped her head on his shoulder and sighed heavily.

“Please don’t do something so foolish again, Aymeric,” she whispered. “I know it’s the pot calling the kettle black, but…” She bit her lower lip, gaze dropping to their laps.

He kissed her forehead, then nuzzled into her hair. “While I can’t make promises, as serving as Lord Commander means I will have to continue to put myself on the frontlines,” he said, “I will do my best to be less…impulsive, going forward.”

Synnove sighed. “That’s the best I can ask.”

At that moment, three faces peered over the edge of the bed, yipping a question in unison. Aymeric raised an eyebrow; Tyr had to be laying flat on his stomach to match his siblings with that little trick. He looked at Synnove. “Well, I have no objections,” he said.

“Oh good,” she replied. “We’re a package deal, after all.”

He gave her another kiss, this one lingering, and pointedly ignored Ivar’s growling. When they drew back, he said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Galette crawled up first, shamelessly walking over Synnove, to her exasperated mutterings, so she could haul herself up around Aymeric’s shoulders and settle about his neck. Tyr scrambled up at the same time as Ivar; the giant topaz carbuncle loafed on both their legs, and started up a deep, brassy purr that rumbled through their bones, while Ivar curled up in Synnove’s lap. With the carbuncles settled, Synnove leaned over to the table, grabbing the novel Aymeric had been eyeing before her arrival, and snuggled down into the pile.

“Your Knights have awful taste in literature,” she said, examining the cover, but flipped it open to the first chapter.

“Now that is truly the pot calling the kettle black,” Aymeric said. “I remember you complaining about the drivel the first-year arcanists were obsessing over last semester.”

Synnove snickered. Aymeric pulled her closer, pressed his lips against her temple, and hummed contently as she began to read aloud.