#v: the one where feef's mom was a scholar in sharlayan before moving to eorzea with her bby girl

[prettiestparadox]

Serafina wonders if she’ll ever fully accept the idea of him loving her. 

Her mother would often cup her cheeks as a child and proclaim wholeheartedly how no man would be good enough for her. Now that she’s older, she has a mind to think that the woman had said that in part to keep her from venturing beyond her warm yet suffocating embrace. But still she dared to, and for all she’s both suffered and achieved Serafina could have never dreamed to be where she is right now, nestled in the strong arms of a man who was good enough for her, if not better.

Though he’s beyond her expectations he still had his flaws: working long hours into the night and throwing himself into life-threatening situations seemingly without a smidgen of concern for his own well being--nor the collateral damage it could cause to those who depended on him. It exasperates her, Lucia, Estinien--and the rest of who cared for him beyond the seat he occupied as Lord Commander. 

Odd as it is, his flaws are partly responsible for what drew her to him on a personal level, given that his station had initially imposed an air of professionalism between them. But even then on their first meeting in the Intercessory she sensed his interest in her by the way his eyes fixated on her and her only, as if everyone and everything else in the room had dissipated--and his eyes are the same even now, a blue akin to fresh, moving rivers freed from their ice. Serafina was not unaccustomed to having eyes on her but with him it’s different, because she wants him to keep looking. 

“Is there something on my face?” The edge of his mouth curves in a smile as her hand rests against the side of his handsomely-angled face, thumb against his cheekbone. 

“...I daresay your eyelashes are longer than mine.” She breathes a giggle as her index finger brushes against the outer corner of his eyelid.

“That’s saying something, you know. The other children always used to tease me for the same thing.” 

“I think it would’ve been an adorable sight,” He chuckles, the arm behind her back shifting her closer against his bare chest.

“Oh not you too.” She pouts, chin propped atop his sternum, forearms resting against his torso.

“Everyone calls me that. I’m getting rather sick of it.” Her other titles--the ones she actually sweat and bled to earn--were a welcome reprieve from the terms of endearment with which she’d endured on a day to day basis. Part of it was that, more often than not, such sweet words served to underestimate her. Lately Serafina has faced more than enough doubt on her own, and she has had more than her far share of detractors for reasons that held more weight than a heart-shaped face and a button nose.

“I say it because I mean it.” His lips touch her forehead, and his smile feels softer on her skin.

“And besides, knowing you now has given me the privilege of seeing your other fine qualities.” Her ears perked slightly. Ironic how just a few seconds ago she denounced a certain kind of praise--but this is Aymeric’s praise, and if she were to judge based on everything that has happened so far, it’s bound to be different in the best kind of way.

“Which are...?”

“Your passion. How you’re driven to do what is needed, for the good of others...” Lovingly his fingers smooth out the loose, long waves of her ash-pink hair, and she bobs her head backwards into his touch. 

“Your optimism--it uplifts everyone around you, and it serves you well in raising morale.” Radiant, he thinks, like sunlight that cascaded in beams through the glass of tall cathedral windows.

“...and your smile.” She rolls her eyes playfully at how he couldn’t go without being outright hopeless--but hopeless and hopeful is just what they are. Why they’re together, and why all of Ishgard as they know it rests their hopes and dreams on their shoulders, which they held stalwart before the masses, which they only allowed to falter before each other. 

“Not a night passes where it doesn’t cross my mind.” Aymeric’s voice lowers for only her to hear, though she’s certain there’s no one else in the room to begin with--except possibly his sour-faced cat.

“Somehow it never fails to cease the cold nights.” 

“Like a charm, then?” Her eyes shut as her ear pressed against his heart.

“To guarantee you a good night’s sleep?” 

“Certainly.” He keeps his smile just as he keeps his gaze so lovingly glued to her, admiring the subtle allure of how her eyes shone brighter with how her visage shielded the candlelight from where it flickered on the nightstand.

“A good luck charm.” She puffs, through her nose, as a creeping weight drags her eyes downwards.

“...I’m glad I could do it for someone.” He frowns at the telltale sign of her self-deprecation. 

“You are doing more than you give yourself credit for.” Sensing her shoulder blades tense, he shifted in his hand in soothing circles over the slope of her back.

“None of this can be achieved in a day. But know you were wronged. It wasn’t your doing, nor was there anything you could have done.” She bit her lip and nuzzled further into the tight heat of his chest. She hated how the night at the banquet still has its hold on her, and even with how she was slowly but surely beginning to reclaim her resolve it still hung over her like a foreboding moon. “...And yet your found your footing, and even gave your hand in aid to those around you--complete strangers whom you knew nothing of.” He spoke of those in the Foundation, in the Pillars, in the Brume--those who had their hearts touched by an outsider, by the Warrior of Light, by Serafina. 

As the circling motion of his palm eased upwards, his fingers crowned at the back of her neck, tresses of her mane caught in-between, goading her to meet his eyes. Still transfixed as ever, and now he sought the same from her; thankfully, he wasn’t left waiting for long, the longing in her gaze doubled by how her legs were still caught around his waist.

“...I could go on.” He whispers, his breath hot on the underside of her chin. His lips are so tantalizingly close to her neck that she’s sure he could feel her swallow in anticipation.

She closes her eyes and breathes him in. 

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”