#wound up sobbing in aymeric's arms about it all

[lilbittymonster]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @lilas tysm 💜

Tagging @crackinglamb @anneapocalypse @crystallineconflict @thevikingwoman and @myreia

It's been a minute but here's a bit from the Year of the OT3 prompt I'm working on

~

Kitali turned away from the flames at the sound of the front door opening. She listened as the sound of booted steps grew closer and closer before finally arriving before the doors to the parlor. As the doorknob turned, she stood from where she had been crouched before the hearth to face the doors fully. Aymeric entered, letting the door fall shut softly behind him, looking slightly flushed in the low lamplight.

“You’re here,” he exhaled, slightly breathless.

“I told you I would be,” Kitali said mildly. “Did you run all the way here?”

“I, ah. Not all the way, just from the aetheryte.”

It was endearing to see him so flustered, Kitali thought. The polish of the Lord Commander fell to the wayside as he crossed the room towards her, nervously pushing a stray lock of hair from his eyes before hesitantly reaching out towards her. She stepped closer in turn and met him halfway.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked softly.

“A bit.”

His hand ghosted against her cheek, and she tilted her head to lean into his touch. Her eyes closed as his thumb brushed across the dried trail of a tear.

The room hummed with a strange tension. The world felt narrowed to just these four walls. Without opening her eyes, Kitali could feel his gaze on her face. Aymeric took several small inhales, as if to speak, and just as she was about to break the silence he finally spoke.

“Kitali, may I-”

“Yes.”

[jefarawol]

“May I walk you back?” She looked over her shoulder as she pulled her coat over her shoulders. Aymeric stood behind her, a nervousness to his stance she was not used to seeing. "If you wish.” She nodded her head.  He stepped in front and took the door holding it open for her. They stepped out into the cold night, a light dusting of snow had begun to cover the stone. “How are you recovering?” Aymeric asked carefully after they began to walk back towards the Foundation. “I think it may take some time to fully comprehend what has happened these last weeks.” She said after a moment.

He tilted his head to her, watching her as they continued down. “I know you will not speak of it to me,” he spoke softly. “I won't ask that you do. But for your own sake can I ask if you have spoken to anyone about these events?” She looked up at him, surprised by his choice of words. “I have,” she looked away, “With Artoirel.” He smiled lightly, ignoring the ache in his chest as she cast her eyes away. “I am glad you have someone in which to confide with.” They walked again in silence passing down into the covered archway that would lead down towards the infirmary.

“I am sure when Estinien wakes your mind will be more at ease.” Her step halted. “I don't think that it will.” Aymeric turned back to her, several steps below when he realized she had stopped. “In truth,” she continued before he could say anything. “How he felt in that brief moment when we pulled the eyes from him, he may never speak to me again…” His eyes widened in surprise as he looked at her.

“Surely you don't mean that?” She grimaced, the pain of his emotions at That time washing over her again.  “I do.” She had to stop running from it, the battle was over, there was never going to be a good time to say it. “Aymeric,” she took a steadying breath. “What Nidhogg did…” She struggled with the words, her throat going dry. “What he did to us, I don’t know if Estinien will ever recover.”

He stepped back towards her, bringing him level with her several steps above. “You don't need too-” “I do.” she gripped the front of her coat comfortingly. “And if I don't say it now it will only become harder if he wakes.” She took another long calming breath, hyper aware of Aymeric's gaze and silence as he waited for her to speak.  “Nidhogg manipulated us.”

Finally, she had said it, her next words tumbled out after. The words both equally painful and liberating. “He was threatened by us, by our power. He saw an opportunity when my blessing was gone and took something precious from me.” “What did he take?” “My feelings,” she lowered her eyes from him. “...for you.” She heard his quiet intake of breath, but she didn't look up, she feared if she stopped she wouldn't be able to finish. “He took them from my wounded heart, corrupted them and put them back, making me feel for Estinien how I felt for you.” “What are you saying?” He stepped closer, a hesitant hand coming out to rest on her shoulder. “It wasn't real Aymeric.”

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes as she looked at his expression. She could see the pain her words were inflicting on him. “How we felt. None of it. It was all a cruel game Nidhogg played with us to distract us from our goal.” He swallowed hard, her words sinking in. He focused on her eyes seeing the fear in them, a desperation for him to understand.  “Since the conference, those feelings have been gone. Ripped from us so that we could feel the depth of despair, to keep us from fighting back.”

“But you did fight back.” he pulled her closer attempting to hold her but he felt her resistance. “You saved him. You did the impossible.” “At what cost?” She cried. “What damage have I caused, how could he forgive me?” She gripped the front of his jacket, as his arms came around her again. “How can I forgive myself? If I had never-” Her voice cracked and died as she sobbed into him. “If I didn't-” she could barely speak now. “If you didn't love me this would never have happened?” She could hear Aymeric's heart shatter. “Aymeric…” hearing him say it felt like a dagger had been plunged into her chest. “Do you-” Even he struggled to find his next words. “Do you regret falling in love with me?”

Did she? She thought back on the day they met, when she had first seen him without the helmet, how innocent that spark had been. How persistent it had remained embedded inside her. She imagined the emptiness that would remain if they were taken from her too. “No.” For the first time she felt confident in her words, she felt Aymeric tension release, his arms holding her more tightly. “I should never have let you go.” He rested his forehead against hers. “If anyone is to blame it is me, I ended it.”

She trembled in his hold. “I broke your heart.” He whispered sadly. “I let Nidhogg take you.” “Aymeric-” she pushed away from him, he was too close. She wanted him to kiss her desperately, but she knew deep down she didn't deserve it. “Forgive me.” He relinquished his hold on all but her hands. “You are not at fault.” She shook her head. “If anyone should beg, it will be me. I will not let you bear this.” “So you will weather the storm alone?” His expression turned to worry.

“Until Estinien awakens they are my sins to carry,” she swallowed hard. “Only then will I know if I am worthy of your forgiveness.”

[autumnslance]

“ i’ve got you, you’re safe. ” for Aeryn :D

((So I had this idea originally for another prompt, tabled it when another idea ended up written, and then remembered it for this. Stormblood 4.5))

Estinien had always thought Aeryn many things: tough, quiet, strong, witty, easily embarrassed. She could be infuriating and comforting and had somehow, without him realizing it, become a fixed position in his life; a sister in arms and in heart, and a rare person with the understanding of why, exactly, he had named his spear what he did, how he felt about his old enemy.

He had never once--not on their first meeting in a snowy camp in Coerthas, not when he had lost control and attacked her and Alberic, not even when she was a sobbing mess upon the Vault’s battlements--ever thought of her as small. As fragile.

Yet lifting her unconscious form in his arms, that was what it seemed. As if she had fallen into herself, her wounds obvious but nothing that should have left her in this state. He had prevented the killing blow and the enemy was retreating. She should be all right.

She did not even stir.

Aeryn was tall for a midlander woman, yet still so much shorter than a grown elezen maid. Even in her battle gear, she seemed to weigh next to nothing. He cradled her close and leapt.

He landed as carefully as he could, startling Alliance soldiers. His eyes sought and quickly found the Temple Knights among them. “The Lord Commander and the chirugeons--quickly!” He barked. The soldiers snapped to obey, the Adders and Flames scrambling to respond to an officer’s command as well.

Estinien looked again at the woman in his arms. “Aeryn,” he plead quietly. “Wake up.”

Rumors said the other senior Scions were caught in a fell torpor. Had Aeryn fallen prey to it as well?

She finally stirred, muttering something unintelligible as she struggled, and he nearly sighed with relief. He held her fast, now concerned she might further hurt herself. “I’ve got you, you’re safe,” he murmured.

Perhaps she heard, as she soon settled again, still muttering wordlessly, sweat on her brow, blood seeping through her coat.

“Estinien!” Aymeric called, rushing over, eyes widening. “Halone’s grace--Aeryn!”

Transitioning Aeryn to Aymeric’s arms was a seamless matter. “The Ascian did this,” Estinien said shortly.

After a second’s study, a level of tension left Aymeric’s face as Aeryn continued to stir, too weak to truly thrash. “This isn’t like the others,” he said with some relief. The Knights’ chirugeons were coming, as well as some of the Adder conjurers. Aymeric looked up. “Estinien—”

“There’s more to be done,” Estinien interrupted, drawing his helm on. He did not want to show his own concern; seeing Aymeric’s was difficult enough.

Aeryn would have something to say about that, Estinien thought, were she conscious.

Estinien paused to briefly rest his hand once more on her head. “She’ll be all right,” he said. A promise. A warning. A hope.

Before Aymeric could say more, Estinien leapt again.

[the-dragons-knight]

FFXIV Write 2020

Prompt #10 - By my Blood

Avail - ‘to have force or efficacy’

- Major Patch 5.3 Spoilers of Shadowbringers MSQ -

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

This wasn’t him. Katsum knew this and yet...to see him - or a face that looked like him - staring down at her with such anger and hatred, his sword posed to strike her down without another thought…

“What is the matter, Warrior?” She heard Elidibus’s sickening voice echo around her from where he hid in the shadows, “What causes your strength to waver so?”

He knew. Of course he knew. It was why he had her fighting him specifically, to push her, to anger her. Well, she would not play his games.

“Fury, guide my blade!” The shade of Lucia shouted as she wound up her swing and brought it down upon Katsum, the Miqo’te blocking it with her shield. There was no hesitation when she pushed away the sword, throwing the shade off balance and opening her guard for Katsum to lunge in and strike. As her sword pierced the shade, “Lucia” crumpled to the ground, her voice crying in agony as she stopped moving. Katsum faltered at the sound of it, only to be knocked off of her feet from behind. She rolled to her side just in time to dodge the blade of Raubahn as he stabbed the ground, the Bull of Ala Mhigo glaring at her and as he drew it again and thrust it down at her. With swiftness, she sat up to avoid the blade, its edge just grazing her hair, and struck out with her own blade to stab through the shade’s chest. “Raubahn” growled, pulling away from her staggering, only to hiss and suddenly charge at her with a cry of battle. Katsum struggled to stand, readying her blade as she shifted around her and sliced through him, the shade crumpling behind her with a rasp of pain.

“They aren’t real...they aren’t real...” Katsum clenched her eyes shut and chanted this quietly to herself, yet when she turned to look at the shade of Aymeric, her hand trembled, “Not real...not real...”

“You underestimate me,” Katsum was shocked, caught off guard by his response, allowing the shade to strike at her and land a blow on her arm. She winced at the pain, yet she did not strike back. He wound up another swing, spinning around to swing at her legs and she jumped back to avoid its range. He was fast though, and caught up to her, striking down at her where she had to lift her shield and hold back against his weight as he pushed down upon her. Then, he let go and she watched his foot fly out and kick her backwards, dropping her shield as she rolled across the tiled ground. She gasped at the pain in her shoulder, using her sword to prop herself up to stand again, turning to face Aymeric again.

“I won’t fight you,” She shook her head as she frowned sadly, speaking then to the air surrounding her, “You cannot make me fight him.”

Aymeric paused, as if something bid him to stop, and for a moment there was silence as neither of them moved.

“We shall see about that,” Elidibus mused from the shadows as Aymeric suddenly charged at her. Katsum barely had enough time to raise her sword to block him as he rammed her, struggling to hold her footing as she slid back. Something touched her shoe and she looked down to see her shield lying there, quickly picking it up and holding it out as the tip of Aymeric’s blade nearly pierced the flesh on her neck. She saw his blade come into view again as he sliced out at her and she rolled under it to get away. She turned back and widened her eyes as she threw out her blade to parry his, pushing against him as she struggled to stand and locked them in their struggle. A tear fell from her eye as she stared back into the hateful gaze of her beloved and cried, “I will not fight you...I cannot...”

He did not answer, only pressed against her harder to try and break her balance, yet she held fast.

“Very well, you have made your point,” Elidibus appeared from the shadows behind Aymeric, “I grow tired of this pointless struggle anyway. Let us move on.”

She thought that Aymeric would simply fade away, but Elidibus lifted a hand and an arrow of darkness shot out and struck Aymeric in the back.

“NO!!” Katsum dropped her blade and caught Aymeric as he fell, cradling him close to her as he stopped moving, “No, no, please!!” She frantically looked for a wound to stop the bleeding from, but there was none. She listened for heartbeat, a breath, any to show he was alive, but there was none. He lay motionless in her arms, and tears poured from her eyes as she leaned over his body and cried, “Don’t leave me...please...please don’t go...”

Her sadness slowly turned to anger as she turned her hate-filled eyes to Elidibus and shouted, “Why!?!”

She watched him blink in surprise, shock filling his eyes like he remembered something. Then that all too familiar pressure in her head began, and she shakenlying breathed and let the Echo take hold…

“Umbra! Noctem, please!” A blonde Elezen woman cried as she held out a hand between her and the dark-haired Elezen man she spoke to, pleading with him to no avail, “My love, please listen to me!”

“Bringer of fire...bringer of chaos...” The man growled as he glared at her, a dark, purple haze over his eyes that Katsum had seen only once before, yet she knew what it was, “I invoke the will of Zodiark...and cut you down!!!”

He shouted as he charged at her with a spear made from dark blue crystal, and she dodged to the side, holding out what looked like an astrolabe to shield herself. The man growled again and swung at her over and over, pushing her further and further back towards the railing of the walkway. The faceless ancients around them all watched in horror, none of them knowing what to do as they stood there.

The woman’s eyes filled with tears as she shook her head, “I will not fight you, my heart! If I must, I will let you harm me, but I will not harm you!”

Still, the man pressed forward, raising his spear to throw at her. She dropped her guard and closed her eyes to let him hit his mark, tears flowing freely as she waited.

“AURORA!!” A flash of light made her winced as she waited for the pain, yet when it did not come, she gasped and her eyes flew open.

“NO!!!” A deep gash punctured through Noctem’s chest, blood and aether already beginning to soak his clothing as he dropped his spear and staggered. Aurora rushed forward to catch him in her arms, laying his head in her lap as she cried, “My love, my moon and sky.” She held out her hand over his chest and focused her healing light upon it, yet no matter how much magic she used, his wound did not heal.

“Azem...Aurora...” She looked down at him to see the purple haze gone from his sea-colored eyes, his sad smile breaking her heart, “You set me free, my love. Thank you...”

“No, no, no! Noctem, please don’t! Please don’t leave me!” He reached out and placed a hand on her cheek, caressing her face as she held it there and sobbed.

“Oh, my sun and stars...I will never leave you...I will always be...right here...” His voice faded and his eyes closed, his hand slipping down to rest on her heart and she grabbed it tightly to hold it there as she watched him fall limp.

“No...Noctem, please…” He did not answer, and Aurora fell upon him as she cried, “Nooooo!”

The crowd around her murmured sadly, some of them crying tears of their own. Aurora sat up slowly as looked back behind where Noctem had been standing, seeing three very clear faces standing there: a very young Elidibus clutching the robes of a stern looking Lahabrea, and Emet-Selch, a faint cloud of purple magic still dancing around his fingers. At first, she opened her mouth to cry out for their help, yet when she saw the magic in Emet’s - Hades’s - hand, she stopped as the pieces fell in place. Suddenly, her jaw tightened and her eyes glared at them with hatred.

“You killed him...WHY!?” Her voice made nearly everyone jump and Elidibus hid further behind Lahabrea in fear.

Hades said nothing, but Lahabrea scoffed, “T’was his own fault that he wandered into my study when he did. I specifically said I was not to be disturbed, so when he opened the door, the darkness enthralled him.” The man shrugged and waved his hand as if to dismiss the matter, “I have killed no one. I am not guilty.”

Hades finally spoke, hissing out at him, “We have spoken on this. There is to be no communing with Him where others might be affected!”

Again, Lahabrea only shrugged, “It is still not my fault he is dead.”

“It is because he was going to kill Azem!”

“I curse the name of Zodiark…” A collective gasp echoed as everyone turned back to Aurora, yet she stared straight into Hades’s eyes with a fury unlike any he had ever seen from her, “I curse the convocation of the fourteen and all it now stands for! I relieve myself from its ranks and vow to be its undoing!”

“Aurora, please,” Hades took a step towards her, yet a flash of light appeared behind her and a talon struck out at him from the glowing phoenix that now floated above her.

“I am Azem, the wanderer, and from this day do I take my title from the Fourteen forever as it is mine alone to weild,” She lifted her husband’s lifeless body into her arms and stood, holding him close as her phoenix landed beside her to let her climb on its back, “The reign of Zodiark shall end, and there will be no need for anyone to sacrifice themselves EVER again...” She laid Noctem on the glowing bird’s feathers and sat behind him, the phoenix shrieking as it lifted into the air once more, the stars twinkling around it as she spoke only once more, “With mine shall it end. By my blood shall this world become as it should be.”

The crowd watched as the phoenix lifted into the skies and flew up into the stars, twinkling as it disappeared from sight, Azem and her Umbra along with it.

Katsum blinked as the Echo faded, suddenly remembering where she was and looking down at her empty arms to find Aymeric was gone. Her trance faded then, her mind settling as it finally believed her that the Aymeric had not been real afterall. She shakingly sighed and stood to her feet, wiping the tears from her face as she gathered her sword and shield again and looked up at Elidibus. He was staring at her, like he was still caught in a memory as she had been. Yet just before she could say anything, his shock faded into a blank expression and he hummed, “We’ve wasted enough time here. Let us move forward. Your journey is not yet finished after all.”

He turned and disappeared into the shadows again, leaving Katsum to stand there alone. The Miqo’te’s ears dropped as she turned and looked up at the city’s tallest buildings, thinking about the vision she saw.

“Aurora...Azem…?”

[inviouswriting]

Love

Aymeric x Kiya

Smut

Kiya wakes to the sensation of kisses being peppered on her face and arms wound around her loose. She scoots forward into the torso she has come to be so comfortable around, a hand reaching for a blanket to tug over her head to playfully stop the onslaught of affection on her. 

Aymeric is not easily deterred from her, if she had to guess he is smiling gentle and reaching to tug the blanket up and over himself. She feels the pull and soon warmth surrounds her in his arms, his face pressed into her neck where he continues leaving kisses. 

The blanket tugged up more exposes their feet to the air, Aymeric strewns his right leg between Kiya’s and nudges hers apart. Kiya moves her left leg on top of Aymeric’s hip and feels herself being pulled closer to him. Kiya feels the blanket pulled off their heads for fresh air. She is greeted to playful blue eyes staring at her in reverence.

Kiya looks to the side while his right hand ghosts down her side from shoulder to hip and back up to squeeze and dance across a breast. She makes a shiver not from cold but from the sensation his tender touch does. She looks back up at him, and his expression is softer, like he can’t believe he is allowed this still.

Aymeric keeps his hand making a path on her body in circles with his hand feeling her skin soft under his hands. Warming her up to him touching her, he feels the leg strewn over him press down and knows she wants him.

“Morning my love.” He breaks the silence between them, Kiya locks her eyes with him. The hand that was circling on her torso moves to her left hand, and Aymeric brings her hand to his lips to place his kiss, one he always does when they wake up together on her ring and before they sleep. Anytime he can do this he does. He does it as a way to promise his love every day to her and to protect her at night.

“Morning Aymeric.” She half yawns his name, getting a scoff out of him. He holds her hand in his, his hand nearly engulfs hers with how much of a size difference between the two is. Kiya splays her fingers out with his, and he follows her letting her indulge in seeing how her hands barely fits against his. 

Aymeric would curl his fingers over hers even as she scoots her hand on his palm up to touch fingertips together. Kiya sees him dip his head down and press kiss to her shoulder to her neck focusing on a spot just below her jawline.The arm underneath her moves to pull her closer to him she can already feel him against her leg.

Kiya is guided onto her back, Aymeric moves to settle between her legs. He places kiss after kiss over her as he shifts the blanket off revealing her to him. Kiya feels a wave of shyness hit her, closing her thighs together only to have him coax them apart.

He moves down to place more kisses, his mouth finding a nipple to tease and nip at gently feeling the way she shivers under him. Kiya jolts underneath him as his right hand moves down to rub at her folds dancing over her clit in slow circles.

“Sensitive?” Kiya hears the amusement in his voice. She looks up at him and can see him regard her with a playful stare. She feels the way he plays with her, she intakes a breath of air to hold feeling a finger press into her. One of the things about him she enjoys his how long his fingers are compared to hers. They reach deep and when he adds two of them she almost feels like it is another part of him inside her.

“A little.” Kiya’s hand goes to his when he presses his second finger into her and curls both just right to brush inside her. She hears him sigh content when he draws a pleased yelp out of her.

“Your voice always makes me pleased to know I do this to you.” Aymeric keeps his fingers moving in her, spreading her open and thrusting his hand against her drawing his hand out to use her fluids to soak her. He had to make her well pleased before he even thought of penetration. He knows the strain he does on her, always like their first time. Lots of pampering her, teasing, and usually an orgasm to ensure she is soaked.

“Please, Aymeric?” Kiya raises a hand to his face, and he leans his head to her hand. He regards her gently.

“My love, you know it hurts if I don’t prepare you.” She does know, he had taken her once without warming up properly at her urging. She had cried for him to stop, and he spent the rest of that evening soothing her for it. One of the mixed blessings and curses to him is his size. He brings her to such singing highs with his length, but has on a few occasions hit just wrong and caused her pain. 

He doesn’t miss her pout in her impatience, leaning down to claim her lips in a full kiss. He keeps his hand moving within her getting a third into her to stretch her, to accommodate something much thicker. 

Aymeric lifts her waist up with ease, and strewns her legs over his shoulders as he settles in a way so he can please her further. Kiya fidgets at being lifted in such a manner suddenly but any complaint she has dies on her tongue feeling his hands part her folds and his mouth claiming her folds covering from her clit to her entrance. His tongue sweeping over the nub and prodding into her.

Kiya keens out her tail thrashing wild between them as he teases her. Her legs pulling herself closer and rocking her hips to the pattern he teases her in. Sucking enough on her clit lavishing it with his tongue before pushing the appendage into her. Earning cries out of her till he knows she is ready to take him into her.

Aymeric gives her folds a long lick from her entrance to her clit before lowering her down. He fits between her legs and raises her waist to his own. He takes great pleasure in teasing her further by grinding his length along her folds watching her writhe underneath him as he uses her fluid to wet himself.

He feels her nails find purchase in his arms as he guides himself into her. The strain always there on the push in. He is in bliss when he goes in, but he watches her face for discomfort or pain. Last thing he ever wants is her in pain. He sees pleasure and goes until he is pleasantly seated within her. Her breathing more labored at adjusting, one of his hands between them rubbing her clit to distract her. 

There is always a wait, he waits till she is fully adjusted on him. He never minds it, he loves this moment between them as it lets him dote on her till she is blushing mad or frustrated from sitting still. He soon feels her signal for wanting him to move. She parts her thighs more and moves her feet so they press onto his hips just at his lower back.

Aymeric draws back and thrusts back into her, tearing a loving moan out of her. He starts out slow, deliberately slow, long draw backs and slow push in. He enjoys the feeling of her around him. Hot and slick. Kiya’s nails dig into his shoulder harder and he is moving her hands off his shoulders grabbing both in one hand to pin above her head. His back still tender from the night before when she clawed him. He has many scars from her, the deepest grooves in his back are from their first time. Both of them giving each other permanent markings. Her his back, him her virginity then.

Now he has her, all of her panting, and shaking underneath him. He marvels well at her flushed face from him staring, the vivid green hues look to his piercing blue. All it took for his control to snap and he lowers on top of her while his hips move wilder against hers as he kisses her fierce. 

Kiya returns his kisses, and arches under him pulling herself up with her legs wrapping around his waist pulling into his thrusts. Aymeric is firm in his movements and rocks his hips down in a way that enables him to brush that one spot in her. 

Aymeric keeps his eyes locked on her face, something he can never get enough of is the way she looks when she is lost to pleasure. How her eyes gloss over and look up at him with need. A need he provides her in releasing her hands and her grabbing onto him. She seeks his kiss and he meets her, her mouth parted for his tongue as it dances with hers. 

Nails find their way into his back again, and a few punishing thrusts but pleasant to her. Kiya arches and he feels her nails digging. He catches her hands to hold them at the sides of her head. He stares into her eyes in warning not to scratch him, but gives her his hands to grip. 

Aymeric keeps their kiss going, parting brief for air then capturing her lips again in a sweet kiss. He can see the flush on her face from his stare and her closing her eyes as a result. He alters the way he pushes into her and draws out moans from her. Repeated singing of his name between the kiss, he knows this feverish voice of hers. She is close.

Kiya arches under him, and he pushes into her harder till she feels more power in his thrusts trying to get her to peak over that edge. She does in a full cry of his name with sobs of pleasure off her tongue. He pushes deep into her to feel the way she clamps on him. Setting his own orgasm off and filling her.

Aymeric kisses over her face peppering her with many of them as he calms down from his own high while she hasn’t come down from hers yet. She won’t for a few minutes. In this time he places several love bites on her neck, too content within her to pull from her just yet. 

He would need to separate soon, as it is morning and they were back in Ishgard from their honeymoon. Kiya clings to him, not wanting to separate yet. He indulges her. He isn’t ready yet either. Aymeric can be a little late.

How can he deny his beloved’s needs?

[starswornoaths]

"she saw my loneliness" for the phantom ask meme? :3c

ohohohohohohoho >:3c

Under the cut, vague spoilers for 3.3

It was probably for the best that Estinien had lost count of the number of times Aymeric had talked him out of committing a felony; if he knew the exact number, he’d have a scoreboard to keep better track of it at this point. But he knew exactly how many of them were because he wanted to violently uphold Aymeric’s honor: all of them.

Most had just been because someone got mouthy about Aymeric’s alleged heritage or the fact that he was adopted. Every time his fellow knight in training would exasperatedly pull him away from what would have turned into a bloody altercation, Estinien would remind him: “T’was you that insisted on being my friend.”

Paramours were not exempt from Estinien’s ire. Doubly so when they courted Aymeric falsely. Estinien had to learn this when he came to the barracks one night and saw the knight in training idly tossing letters in the hearth. Curious, he asked his fellow trainee what they were.

“Love letters.” Aymeric said bitterly, and tossed another small stack of them atop the others waiting to burn. “Written by a fool.” 

“With that girl you’ve been making eyes with?” He guessed, recalling the favor the knight hopeful had been given to wear, now also at the bottom of the pile, he realized when he peered closer.

Aymeric nodded and knelt to strike his flint against the kindling.

“She saw me for my loneliness and decided to make a game of it.” After the fourth strike, the letters caught, and he stood to warm his hands over the flames. “T’was a game she inevitably grew bored of.” 

His arm shot out to grab Estinien by the wrist as the lancer had turned to storm out. 

“I’m going to set fire to her embroidery.” He snarled.

“Let it lie. 'Tis already behind me.” Aymeric insisted.

Estinien greatly doubted that, but spoke no more of it.

**

*

Some few years later after Aymeric had been knighted and Estinien possessed a Dragoon soul crystal, Estinien entered the barracks in search of his friend when he’d caught wind of the most recent gossip in the Forgotten Knight. When he spied the knight curled up on his bed, he sighed and moved to sit on the cot. The motion stirred Aymeric, and he turned to see who had invaded his personal space.

“What happened?” Estinien growled when he noted Aymeric’s swollen, splotchy face still streaked with tears he desperately tried to scrub away. 

“I was distracted.” Aymeric replied. “Naught more. It won’t happen again—”

“Aymeric.” When the dragoon seized his shoulder to jerk him into lying on his back and mounted his hips, the knight blinked owlishly up at him. Estinien hid his surprise at himself for his own actions with a hard glare. “Tell me what happened. I will not get off you until you do.”

“We did not work out.” Aymeric replied exasperatedly. “It ended well enough.”

“Well enough you’re in tears over it—”

“Fury’s Grace, Estinien! Just let me be hurt!” He snapped, his speech lessons thrown out the window in his frustration. “He saw me for my loneliness and said I lacked everything that satisfied him, but he didn’t want to discard me like all the rest—”

“And yet he did.” Estinien pointed out.

“He—” Aymeric hiccupped a sob. “He was honest. Let that be enough.”

“He was cruel.” The dragoon hissed.

“And you are not?” The knight asked before he could stop himself.

Awareness of their positions grew painful, grew conflicted, grew needy but terrifying and Estinien wanted to just pull away, but the sight of Aymeric clenching the sheet in his fists with eyes full of tears and lip quivering pulled at some deeply buried need to comfort, and instead rolled in with the tide of his hips.

So they sometimes decided to make that comfort enough, even if it wasn’t enough of the time.

**

*

In the years after that, what comfort Aymeric could find was limited, all the more where Estinien was concerned, and so he was reluctant to speak on private matters with his friend when they had a chance to speak alone in the chirurgeon’s ward in the days following the slaying of Nidhogg. And yet...even before he had been possessed by the dreadwyrm, he would have had to have been a blind, deaf fool not to notice what had been growing between the Lord Commander and the Warrior of Light.

“Pray tell me you intend to say something to Serella in this lifetime?” Estinien groaned. “Seeing the two of you carry on is more agonizing than my wounds.”

“Such dramaticism.” Aymeric clucked his tongue.

“Don’t dodge the question, fool. The lot of us can’t have suffered for nothing.” Estinien grumbled.

The embarrassed little laugh Aymeric coughed behind his hand to poorly hide his flush caught Estinien off guard; for a moment, he was reminded of when they were schoolboys.

“Lest I put you through more suffering yet, rest assured: we have...I have a promise to keep.” Aymeric said with a soft smile. “Though she encourages me to break it and speak with her sooner, I would see it kept. ‘Tis only meet that I offer my heart properly, after all.”

“And you’re certain this time?” Estinien asked hesitantly. “You’re certain she is not wont to toss it aside?”

Not like others had. Not like he had.

“I am not certain she returns my feelings, no,” Aymeric replied, “though I know as surely as I know the dawn will come that she will not hurt me regardless. Not intentionally.” His already soft smile eased into reflection, into something so tender and saccharine Estinien nearly retched. “She saw me for my loneliness.”

“And?”

“And she offered to share it.” Aymeric beamed like the sun.

The knot of complicated feelings in Estinien’s chest eased away— he’d found someone to do what he could not. Good. Took him long enough.

Unaware that in time, he too would join in carrying that weight with gladness, Estinien nodded and replied, “that’s alright, then.”

[efrmellifer]

Bound

Etien had felt like a creature outside herself all night. It wasn’t a bad thing, nor a good thing. Just… something.

There was something amusing about how Estinien and Aymeric talked when she wasn’t around, what she got to hear of their conversations afterward (it was usually quite a bit, when they were all so close, but still).

And it was even more amusing when those little chats between them seemed to pique Estinien’s curiosity about things Aymeric mentioned.

And that was how Etien and Estinien ended up like this, her legs draped over his lap as she tried to coax information out of him.

“I can’t sate your curiosity if you’re reluctant to ask questions,” she said with a click of her tongue. “What did Aymeric tell you, and what did it make you want to know?”

“He said it was calming. I thought that beggared belief—who gets calm from being bound?”

Etien’s eyebrows lifted. “Aymeric, clearly. But what he’s told me is that it’s more about the trust. The giving up responsibility. I guess some people would call it control,” she said, scratching at her cheek, “but he’s still in control. I don’t tie him tight.” Now she giggled, shifting onto her hip slightly. “But he can sit back, and let me handle everything. A fitting reward, for a man who’s always responsible for handling everything in multiple arenas.”

“And he calms because of that?” Estinien asked, almost sounded like he still didn’t believe it.

“To my knowledge,” Etien replied with a shrug. “I personally think if I could get him to lie still long enough without tying him down, we would get the same results. But he needs an excuse.”

Estinien snorted. “Good old Aymeric.”

She agreed, murmuring the same just above a whisper.

Then she turned to Estinien again. “So do you want to try it? No is a perfectly sufficient answer.”

“Why not?” He mused.

_

She laughed a little as she pulled the slack of the rope a little tighter. “You keep squirming,” she noted, looking up at Estinien only briefly. “I don’t want to cut off your circulation. Please, stay still.”

It was a mix of ribbon and rope adorning him, so that Estinien looked more like an oversized parcel than a man undergoing an experiment regarding his pleasure.

But he liked the look on Etien’s face as she studied him.

“Thoughts?” he asked as she tipped her head this way and that.

“I was looking at the scars,” she admitted. “You have so many more than I do.”

“I have a few years on you,” he said, attempting to shrug, but finally appropriately incapacitated. “And from what I’ve always heard, you don’t scar because the healers are so busy bringing you back from the Fury’s grasp that they patch you up completely as a side effect.”

“Maybe so,” Etien mused, letting her fingers trail across her stomach, and then over a scar on Estinien’s shoulder.

“You have a scar on your nose,” he noted.

“Oh, that,” she sighed. “I thought it would have gone away by now.”

“A lot of them are supposed to fade, and then don’t,” Estinien commented.

“Are we talking about physical wounds now or emotional ones?” Etien asked him, coming to her knees in front of him, close enough that her words made his hair flutter.

“At end of the day, where does the difference lie?”

_

Etien had worried the whole time that the pressure and stillness of being bound would have gotten to Estinien, broken him down or riled him up until physical sensations, least of all pleasure, were the last thing on his mind.

But she had been wrong, luckily.

After, however, when she was unwrapping the ribbon and kissing over the grooves left by the rope—even when she’d tried to leave plenty of room, slipping her fingers next to his skin beforehand and all—that was when the breaking point was hit.

“You did so well, Estinien,” she’d cooed, kissing his shoulder as the rope left his bicep, stroking her fingers over his forearm as the ribbon fell away, “thank you for not squirming and for being patient.”

She’d taken the risk of kissing him on the lips after that, and she felt the emotion roll through him before she could hear it or see it.

He near to crumpled, almost sobbing as she pulled back.

“Estinien?” Etien asked, barely hitting the consonants, soft as down as she called to him.

“I am all right,” he replied.

“You don’t have to be,” she soothed, pulling him closer and stroking his hair. “If you aren’t sure that everything is completely well, you need not say so.”

She made more comforting noises—a shush that was almost a whistle for how airy and tonal it was, a humming coo that transformed into soothing words.

Sometimes, people commented—in jest or completely seriously—that Etien had magic in her voice, when she sang on the battlefield. But now, Estinien was inclined to believe it.

They lay there for a long time, her fingers trailing through his hair, her heart beating in his ear. He must have fallen asleep, because he didn’t know how long it was before Aymeric came in and Etien stirred as she woke, which made Estinien hazily aware of the world around him again.

He’d seen Aymeric bend, kissing Etien, then been slightly surprised by also receiving a brief kiss.

Aymeric slipped into bed, and the three of them went to sleep.

...for a time.

All three of them were plagued with nightmares in one form or another—possession, torture passing for interrogation, and just about everything that had happened to Etien since she left home, especially in the last year—did that, taking their toll on the mind, the pain nestling into a corner and every so often sticking a paw out to swipe at anything that passed by.

Estinien knew they happened, even to Etien. But he’d never seen it.

Not until he was thrown from her chest, which heaved with her every breath now as she tried to calm down.

“What was that?” he asked when he finally got his bearings.

“I thought I had left thoughts of the First behind,” she intoned, halfway between a groan and a wail, hands covering her eyes.

If the slight dipping and rising of her shoulders was any indication, she was crying now, now that the adrenaline was beginning to filter out.

She was home, in bed. But even as whatever pain or fear was starting to ebb away, it had still existed.

The sounds of her sniffling woke Aymeric, who immediately slipped a hand into hers, gently tugging it away from her eyes. “Etien, dearest,” he sighed into the dark. “Another nightmare?”

She nodded, a soft “mm-hmm” her reply.

Silently, Estinien watched the two of them start going through the routine. He wanted to reach out, to help, but didn’t know where or how to insert himself without getting underfoot. So he watched.

Aymeric sat up, gathering Etien into his arms. It was made abundantly clear how small she was when she was enveloped like this, tail limp and ears flat, curled up knees to chest in his lap.

It only made her victories more impressive. And her fears more understandable.

“Do you… would it help to talk about it?” Estinien asked. “Or should I leave for that?”

“What’s one more intimacy between us?” she asked, smiling, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Stay. Please.”

He scooted a little closer to the pair, watching Aymeric start to slightly rock, Etien’s eyelids sinking lower from the motion.

“Tell us, if you can,” Aymeric requested, voice low, smooth and comforting.

Etien nodded, swallowing. “I was dreaming about when Elidibus was testing me.”

“Testing you?”

“Yes. He said he wanted to assess my capabilities, and—well, he did just that. He certainly pushed me to the very limit of what I could handle.”

“In the dream?” Estinien asked.

“No,” this came out of her just a little raspy. “On the First. The dream was just the feelings washing over me again, little slices of the memories.” She sighed. “I might as well tell you about what actually happened, considering that was what had me shaken enough to dream myself into this state. The way it started was I… I saw Mother Miounne. That is, one of the Amaurotines was made to look like her. It took me by surprise to see, when hers was really the first friendly face I saw in Gridania. The first to meet me as Etien Mellifer, rather than… the identity I cast off, I suppose.”

The two men were silent, letting Etien work through the words she wanted at her own pace. Already, her eyes were welling, her pupils wide as if in fear, ringed in a teary, glassy green.

“And it grew worse from there. Seeing people who have been lost to us was one thing, as was fighting old foes. When it was the Scions, I could ignore it. But that ability was quickly spent. Especially when, as if he had reached in and pulled the fear directly out of the darkest part of my heart, you two were suddenly on the other side of my bow.”

Aymeric gasped.

“I couldn’t bear it, fighting you,” she told him, tears overflowing the banks of her eyelids, fresh streams hot on the tail of the first rivulets. “I remember now, the pain in my chest as I sobbed, nocking another arrow. It didn’t matter that they were cubii, I looked and it was you and I almost couldn’t do it. But what was I going to do, fail? Die?”

“Absolutely not,” Aymeric muttered, pulling her close again.

“And then there was the issue of reliving the end of the war,” Etien said with a heavy sigh.

“Well you cannot be afraid of Nidhogg,” Estinien commented, scooting closer again.

“I’m not afraid of Nidhogg,”she replied, gaze lifting to meet his.

“Oh. Aye, I see.”

“For whatever it’s worth, the cubii put up a valiant fight. I had no tears left to cry, heaving by the time I was finished with the test.”

Aymeric sucked his lower lip into his mouth, then let it go, the way he’d watched Etien do many a time. Estinien just looked between the two of them.

Aymeric positioned her so she was straddling his lap, laying her head against his chest, rubbing near the tip of her ear as he hummed softly. “Fret not, my dearest. Estinien and I yet live, thrilled to have you here with us, and prouder of you than ever, which is saying something. That must have taken an inhuman amount of courage.”

She sniffled, tears falling faster and still unbidden, as she pressed her face just below Aymeric’s shoulder.

“Shh, I have you, Etien. Nothing can hurt you, not while I’m here. And the same goes for Estinien. Isn’t that right?” he asked, with a flick of his eyes and a subtle tilt of his head, beckoning Estinien over wordlessly.

“It is,” he agreed, settling into a more comfortable seated position next to Aymeric and laying a hand on Etien’s back.

“Listen to my heartbeat, to my breathing,” Aymeric soothed a little more. She repositioned herself, sighing again. “Not to sound too much my father, but you have suffered too many indignities at the hands of Ascian influence,” he murmured. “But no more. Not now.”

He lay down, bringing her down with him, and beckoned for Estinien to join him with a quick gesture.

“Does Etien want--?”

“You could ask her,” Aymeric replied.

“May I join you?” Estinien asked.

Aymeric swept back Etien’s hair, searching her eyes, pupils wide and irises starkly green as a side effect of being bloodshot, for an answer.

She nodded, then turned to Estinien. “Please.”

Nodding, willing to do as she asked, he lay down beside the pair, trying to entangle himself with both of them, legs crossing with Aymeric’s, an arm thrown over Etien’s back.

He couldn’t think of anything to say. There was nothing to say, no way to make such a traumatic event fade from her mind. He sighed a little at the knowledge that even with all she had told him and Aymeric, it couldn’t have come close to living it.

And as she was the one with the Echo, they would never see what she had seen.

Maybe it was better that way.

All they could do was comfort one other after the dreams and pray—alongside the actions they took—that nothing like this, any of it, ever happened again.

And for now, sleep, secure in this loose embrace for three.

[smitten-miqitten]

Loss

Ao3 link

The Warrior of Light was drunk, Cid observed. The way Thancred told it, she was well and truly sauced, positively plastered. While she hadn’t had all that many drinks, the booze at the Forgotten Knight was strong stuff, and the intent behind Thancred’s invitation had been aimed at forgetting her ever mounting worries and pain, if only for a little while. 

“I hadn’t expected her to actually agree”, Thancred had said as he enlisted Cid’s aid in finding his uncommon drinking companion, who had slipped away whilst Thancred had gone to the loo. “She always turned drinks down before. It would appear she handles them far more poorly than I anticipated”. Thancred himself looked a pitiful mixture of tipsy and sheepish. While he would normally be the one to ask if someone needed locating, he didn’t fully trust himself in his current state.

When they did find her, she was sat on a secluded bench in the Pillars, one strangely far from the main thoroughfare and positioned with a wall to its back, looking out on the near endless clouded vista that surrounded the city. She was shivering, woefully under dressed for Ishgardian nights in the snow, having left her coat at the inn. Wretched and pitiful, she looked now on the outside the way Cid had imagined she felt on the inside when he had asked after her earlier that day.

…..

Era had been spending quite a lot of time at the Skysteel Manufactury, helping Cid, Biggs, and Wedge with whatever she could, observing the things they made, or simply enjoying their company while reading some book or another. This in of itself had not seemed all that unusual to Cid, as she visited often anyway, until it occurred to him that she was now there every day, without exception.

He saw that she spent as little time as possible around Alphinaud, Aymeric, and the entirety of the Fortemps household. She couldn’t face them, she explained after he pulled her aside to ask if she was alright. Haurchefant was dead because of her, and she couldn’t face them.

Alphinaud saw her as some indomitable pillar of strength, and grew visibly uncomfortable to see her upset. She had to hide her pain from him.

Aymeric and Haurchefant had been friends. Surely Aymeric, though he’d never admit to as much, blamed her in his heart of hearts.

And gods, to sleep under the same roof he grew up under, to break bread with the very family that was now mourning because of her inattention, her weakness, her failure.… She had no right to the space they occupied, the air they breathed.

…..

She had been crying the day she and Cid met, back at Camp Drybone, the aftermath of the Scions’ butchering too much to process, but those tears were far different from the ones on her face now. The tears then were slight and accompanied a look of utter confusion at their presence, for she had never in her admittedly short memory cried before that day. The tears she shed now wracked her with bitter sobs, her face blotchy and eyes a puffy, anguished red.

She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, arms drawn tight around them in a weak attempt to keep warm. Or perhaps it was simply to provide herself a modicum of comfort, for she refused the coat Thancred proffered.

“Alcohol didn’t help, Thancred”, she said in a quiet, oddly slow, uneven way, as if she were trying to keep herself coherent, full knowing the drink had turned her tongue to lead and her thoughts to haze. “I still feel it. My chest…the pain won’t go away. Consumes my every thought. Thought drinking would numb it… didn’t, hoped the cold might….”

Her words drifted off, gaze tracking a hawk flying in the distance, distracted. Her mouth set in a firm line, downturned into a pained frown. Eyes turning toward Cid, Era refocused.

“I’m terrible”, she bemoaned, eyes welling with fresh tears, joining those freezing to her cheeks. “Been using you. You and Biggs and Wedge…I don’t think about it when I��m with you lot. It’s so easy to be around you all…you didn’t know him. Not well enough to… to…”. Her words devolved to guilty sobs. Cid sat beside her, wrapping her in the coat Thancred brought, ignoring her protests, and enveloped her in a one armed hug, simultaneously trying to warm her up and retain some respect for her space.

“To blame you?” Thancred offered in a hushed, knowing tone, sitting on her free side, though he refrained from contact. “That’s what you think, right, that they all blame you for it. They don’t, of course, and you know so, but it’s rather hard to continue to blame yourself without their ire to back it up, no?”

Her wince told him he was right on the money. And of course he was; who better than he knew the feeling of misplaced responsibility for the loss of a loved one, the feel of imagined blood on one’s hands? His eyes, or rather visible eye, grew distant and wistful, looking through her rather than at. “And you need to blame someone, because you can’t bring yourself to blame Haurchefant. Despite the fact it was his fault, his choice…” He paused, a tad startled as Era lunged clumsily for him, teeth bared and eyes wild. How dare he?!

Cid held her back gently, but gave Thancred a look that plainly stated he didn’t at all like where this conversation was going. He cleared his throat, taking over for his irreverent companion, “I think what our friend here means to say is that you had no sway over Ser Haurchefant’s decision. He did what he chose to do, no more and no less. He deemed your safety paramount, and whether you feel you are worthy of his sacrifice or not, he plainly thought you were worth protecting. You can’t blame yourself. He never would have wanted that”.

Whether Cid and Thancred’s words had offered her any comfort could not be discerned, anguish not leaving her eyes. Era ceased speaking entirely, however, and pulled the jacket more tightly around herself. A smile better suits a hero, he had said, but what kind of hero was she? 

Cid, who had now taken to running his hands up and down her arms, trying and failing to warm her enough to stop her shivering, decided they had lingered in the cold for quite long enough. “I’m sure Alphinaud and the rest are worried sick about you. Might we take you back to the manor, before you catch a cold?”

The question was merely a formality, however, as Cid had no intention of letting her do ought else but get somewhere warm, and saw it as a matter of urgency. Thancred too looked apprehensive at the state of her, seeing that she was undoubtedly already ill.

Not waiting for a response, and not receiving one beyond a small almost imperceptible nod, the pair attempted to help her to her feet. She stumbled badly, legs less than responsive in their state of inebriation and chill. Opting for haste, Cid picked Era up, carrying her princess fashion and covering her in her coat like a blanket.

This received a raised eyebrow from Thancred, who cursedly never seemed to miss a thing, prompting annoyed shake of the head from Cid. It wasn’t what Thancred drunkenly assumed, wasn't like that; he merely wanted to get her home as quickly as possible.

Well…

Maybe it was a little bit like that. Everything involving her nowadays was, just a little bit, but his motives were in no way ulterior. Not now, not ever. On that level, he felt he understood the knight she mourned so strongly; an odd sort of kinship borne of similar affections. He just wanted, first and foremost, to see her safe and happy. And at the moment, she was neither.

The trio made hastily toward the Fortemps Manor, Thancred and Cid listening to Era mutter weak, drunken apologies and responding with assurances that it was fine, she was no trouble. When the door guard, recognizing the Warrior of Light, asked about her besotten state, they simply said she’d had a tad too much to drink of unexpectedly strong ale. No mention was made of what it was that drove her to drink, for that was her own affair and no one else’s.

Artoriel and Emmanelain wore ill concealed, frantic looks at the state of her as she was carried to her room to be tucked into bed by a positively befuddled and worried Alphinaud. Her fireplace was stoked to blazing by Honoroit, the sweet boy ever level headed and practical. Thancred, too tipsy to be of much use doing ought else, went to make  her tea. Tataru fussed with her blankets, adding layer after layer before cuddling up next to Era, her presence neither welcomed nor rejected by the now unresponsive Miqo'te.

Eventually, a chirugeon was thankfully deemed unnecessary, due in large part to Cid’s earlier precautions. At least two days bedrest was mandated by Count Edmont, however, ensuring she would be well despite herself. Though not a word on the subject had been uttered, twas plain on the Count's  the face that he knew the reason for her ill advised actions, his own heart breaking alongside hers.

Before leaving her in the ample hands of the Scions and Fortemps family, Cid tried again to speak with Era, seeking still to console her. His attempts were largely fruitless, her only response being a quiet, heartfelt “thank you” issued from a face buried deep into its pillow. Her hand reached for his, and squeezed.

Time mends all wounds, and in time she would be better. But for moment she missed her friend, and drifted in and out of dreams where he yet lived.

[dellebecque]

Prompt #2: Stage 3

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast Who: WoL!Aden When: After the conclusion of the Dragonsong War. How: M, grief, suicidal ideation, gore, death.  5.0 spoilers, Shadowbringers spoilers. What: The third stage of grief is bargaining. Where: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20487653/chapters/48643226

It takes a long time to push through the thick, cottony haze of sedatives and painkillers to surface from darkness for more than an instant, and Aden blinks up at a dark stone ceiling, eyes gritty and dry.  His hands are barely coordinated enough to rub at them, more like a game of trying not to slap himself. It’s demeaning. He’s glad no one else is in the room.

As he pushes through to greater and greater awareness he realizes he’s numb.  He’s cold. Oh he can feel (some of, try not to think about that too much) his body, the pain the subsiding drugs just barely keep at bay, threatening soon, soon you will groan and mewl in helpless weakness.  And the bed is piled high with blankets, the room kept warm with a cheery fire, probably too warm for his liking.  But he’s numb. And cold.  Like a stone in the snow. Like the bedrock scoured clean by whipping wind and grinding ice.  In a way it’s nice after the past few months, the torrent of emotions, the… highs and lows. He hasn’t had true clarity like this since… since…

“You… you are unharmed?”

He screws his eyes shut, clenches his jaw, but he just sees it there in his mind’s eye: shattered rings of maille around an impossibly gaping wound, the slick, dark red and other hideous colors of the parts of a man not meant to see the light of day in plain view.  How much of him was missing.  Just eat away by that lance of aether.  The stark, sick realization in the part of his mind that’s always analyzing, that won’t shut up: healing can’t fix something that isn’t there any more.  Can’t give you back an arm. Can’t restore your blood. Or your…

But he works a miracle every godsdamn day and twice on some.  If he’d studied it, if he’d been a healer, could he….

“F-forgive me….”

Aden is in two places at once when he opens his eyes: alone in this room, and kneeling on the airship launch at the Vault in the process of losing everything he has.  Aymeric grimaced in pain as he maneuvered Haurchefant to rest against his legs, heedless of the blood that’s godsdamn everywhere.  How can a man have this much blood in him, how can a man have this much blood out of him… It didn’t matter.  He locked his gaze to Haurchefant’s--too late, he thinks.  Too late. Steel was already clouding over with the end that must come.

Was this for naught?  Could he even die? He remembered what seemed like a lifetime ago, Merlwyb’s guns ringing out and the sahagin priest falling only to rise and rise again.  If he’d shoved Haurchefant out of the way, could he….

“I could not bear the thought of… of…”

Motion caught his eye, fingers twitching in what seemed almost to be a spasm, then lifting, reaching for him.  Aden seized that hand like a drowning man reaching for a line--like he was the one dying.  But he was. He wrapped both hands around Haurchefant’s in a vice grip, the ring under his gauntlet digging in painfully.  Haurchefant’s fingers wrapped around one hand weakly, the press of his touch light as a dying kiss.

He should’ve said something.  “Don’t go” or “I love you” or “Were any of you ever in the cloister if so marry us right fucking now” or “You fucking idiot”.  Anything.  But he couldn’t, throat closed up like he’d swallowed a heavy, cold stone and it slowly sunk down.  He’d been a child again, terrified to say or do the wrong thing lest someone leave him for reasons he couldn’t understand.  The first bargain: silence for an anchor. Do what he’s told, and always keep hold. But the leaving happened anyroad, and the silence betrayed him.

Aden clumsily throws an arm over his face.  Every choking motion meant to hold back a sob breaks through the haze of painkillers and sends a lash of pain down his spine from just above his tail.  That he feels it after the terrifying loss of sensation from his battle with Nidhogg-possessed-Estinien is no relief.

Could I be with him, if I’d….

He’d watched the light go out of his love’s eyes, felt his grip go slack, and felt only that terrifying cold stone.  Nothing.  It was--wrong, everything he was screaming in revulsion, what was wrong with him, that he couldn’t grasp for the righteous anger he’d quietly carried all his life, or sorrow, or--  We still have work to do.  He’d cast about for anything, and there at the back of his mind lay the seductive power he labored to master even as he wielded it.  It was rage. It was power.  He’d reached for it while Haurchefant’s corpse still lay warm before him.  No, not that, we have a better way--  He didn’t know that voice, so like his own, but he knew Nidhogg’s dirge intimately.  It filled him, the way he imagined it had Estinien when they first met.

Aden saw red.

Could I have stayed like that forever, driven and thirsting for vengeance, if I hadn’t….

He’s glad no one is here to hear the sound of pain he makes on the next sob he fails to contain.  He’s glad no one is here to see him finally mourning after months of fighting.  It doesn’t feel real, as if Haurchefant will walk in through the door at any moment and sit down on the edge of the bed and then immediately apologize for jostling him when he’s so badly wounded.

He’s tired.  He’s tired of the anger, the blind rage, everything, and he’s glad for that cold numbness swallowing up the moment of grief.  Maybe… maybe it’s better this way. Everyone he’s allowed too close is gone.  The numbness means he won’t get attached, and the cold will keep them from drawing too near in the first place.

If I don’t feel for them in the first place… or if I don’t let them know, I won’t lose them.

It is the final bargain.  Aden writes on that cold stone the names of all he’s lost: his father who sent him away, the birth mother he never knew, Noraxia and a dozen Scions, those who might not’ve survived the bloody banquet, Moenbryda, G’raha, Minfilia, Haurchefant, Ysayle.  He waters it with his tears this one last time.

When your wounds are unbearable and you can no longer carry on, trust in me.  I will shoulder this burden for you.  It’s so like his own voice, and it speaks gently, darkly as he settles that stone where his heart should be.  The cold all but burns, like sticking bare skin to the face of Snowcloak.  For some reason he thinks of a little black soulstone with a heart of red tucked into his gear somewhere.  It’s an odd thing to consider now of all times. But even I cannot endure forever.  If you cannot heal this wound, we must find hands that will.

Even the pains of his body subside in spite of the painkillers wearing off, and he drifts into a cold, black, dreamless sleep.

[ladyborel]

Pillars to Pendants

It seemed that so long spent in the bliss of Aymeric’s company came at a price.

Happy as she was, Etien knew that she couldn’t just stay in Ishgard. Her friends needed her, absolutely depended on her in this case especially. She’d recovered, she’d recharged, it was time to do her job.

It was going to hurt to leave after having been gone so long, and after the harrowing brief separation they’d just experienced. She knew that. However, she also knew it would be better to rip the bandage off and let out one scream rather than whine at the prospect, whimper through the act, and ache afterwards.

Well, the ache was inevitable, as well as incurable. How, in a matter of moons, Etien had gone from fiercely, dangerously independent in the wake of leaving home to feeling like she was missing an arm when she wasn’t in the same town as Aymeric baffled her.

But neither the why nor the details of how mattered. Work came first. She’d distracted him long enough, and she had a job to do, lives to save.

She just had to do it without an arm.

The rest of the day passed as usual—Etien occupied herself, night came, and Aymeric home with it, they ate, they took tea and chatted while she knitted, and then they got ready for bed.

Etien took a sharp breath in as she finished buttoning her nightgown, then slid under the covers, cuddling extra-close to Aymeric, leaving an excess of covers on the mattress behind her.

Her voice was low and a little rough when she finally managed to get out “Aymeric, I have a confession.”

He kissed her forehead. “What weighs on your heart so, my dearest?”

“The Scions–” she stopped, feeling her throat drying and knowing her voice would crack– “The Scions need me to go, so I can get everyone back from wherever they went. I want to stay here, but I can’t.” A hiss of air was making its way into her every word, but ‘can’t’ had been especially breathy, like Etien was being drained by even speaking it.

“I had a feeling this day was coming,” Aymeric admitted. “Is this why you were so quiet today?”

Etien blinked away tears. “Yes. I knew I had to tell you, but I- I didn’t want to. I want to stay here, happy and safe and warm, forever.”

“Would you really be happy without the other Scions? I may resent them parting us so often, and I know you dislike it yourself, but I know you love them, as well. As it ever is, they depend on you to put it all right. Your sense of duty is something I love about you, so I cannot fault you for needing to do this sooner rather than later.”

Etien sighed. “I’m glad you understand. But… I’m still scared. I don’t know when I’ll be back. If I’ll be back.”

“We never know what journey will be our last. I promise you, Etien, I will wait right here for you to return when all of it is finished, and if I receive word of your final act of heroism or our extended separation, then I would want you to know that even as your widower, you will have made me the happiest man on the star.” He pulled her closer, now actively holding her to him. “And I believe that wherever our souls go, mine will find yours, to reunite eventually.”

Etien was crying in earnest now, but only shedding tears, not quite sobbing. “I love you,” she whispered, tears sliding over her cheeks.

Aymeric stroked her hair, shushing her softly. “I know. I love you, too. More than tongue can tell and more than mortal minds comprehend.”

She laughed just a little. “We should sleep.”

“I assume you mean to leave in the morning?”

“Something in that vein, yes.”

“I see. While you could absolutely use some rest in that case, if sleep evades you… I’ll be here, holding onto you until you insist I let you go.”

Etien relaxed into his arms, draping hers over him so that they held each other, rather than just being cradled by him. Soon enough, Aymeric would be without her, too.

He did love her, and he was going to miss her, even if that still stunned her. It was almost better if she didn’t believe it, because then she didn’t feel like she was about to hurt him.

“I suppose the time has come to dust off the wind-ups,” Aymeric mumbled, making Etien giggle wetly.

“Please take the wedding dress off her, though. I would hate for you to be distressed looking at her, still regaled for so joyful a moment.”

“It would remind me how happy we have been, and how much I love you. The wedding dress brings me only pleasant memories, Etien.”

She let her eyes shut, a small, wan smile lifting her lips. “I know I just said it, but I love you, Aymeric. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He kissed her. “Get some sleep. I have you.”

Slowly, her body relaxed as she fell asleep.

Aymeric watched sheets of freezing rain come down outside the window as Etien slept against him.

He had thought this day was coming. He’d known he wasn’t going to be ready.

Blessedly, Aymeric had gotten a little bit of sleep himself, lulled by the rhythm of the rain and Etien’s breathing. He was still going to be sluggish, from sadness and lack of sleep both, for the rest of the day. But he had slept a little, holding onto the soft, warm star he called a wife.

He was still the first to wake, holding Etien a little tighter as wakefulness washed over him. He’d promised to hold her until she told him to stop, and he was a man of his word.

Even if he hadn’t been in any other respect, he would never break a promise to Etien.

When she woke, coming to consciousness with a little gasp, he kissed her cheek.

“Good morning,” she warbled, fingers trailing over any part of him she could reach. “Glad to see you’re still here.”

“Of course I am. I shall continue to be.” He buried his nose in her hair, taking in the scent of lavender and honey that was just Etien. “But I do have a few questions.”

Etien took a deep breath, hoping she had answers for him. “And those are?”

“Firstly, do you want something to eat? I know it can be hard to eat if your nerves are wound tight, but I would see you well-fed before you leave me on another journey.”

“For you, I can try to eat,” she replied. “What else?”

“Will you come to the Congregation with me so I can say goodbye there, before you head for the Aetheryte?” Aymeric ran his tongue over his teeth after asking, unsure why he felt nervous making such a request.

Etien nodded. “Absolutely.”

Aymeric felt a strange sense of pride and preemptive longing, seeing Etien sit at the table dressed in her well-worn battle apparel. Pride, because look at the compact powerhouse at his table, the savior of nations thanking him for a cup of hot tea. But the longing… that was self-explanatory. Look at her, powerful, beautiful, beloved, and off to save the world again.

Alone.

She was picking at her omelet, her tea only partially-drunk.

“Is… is it going down all right, dearest? I have confidence in my culinary abilities, but it could be off.”

Etien shook her head. “It tastes fine, Aymeric. I’m just sad. Here.” She took heartier bites, chewing for a long time before swallowing, washing each down with a huge gulp of her tea. She gave him a tense smile. “Thank you. I really…” her eyes welled. “I appreciate you taking care of me.”

“I made it my responsibility because I am honored to,” he said, kissing her hand. “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded.

Walking through the streets of Ishgard felt more like treading to the gallows this time, for both of them, but neither let it show. Etien clung to Aymeric’s arm as usual, and he nodded greetings to everyone, same as always.

It was fine. They were going to be fine.

They went right to Aymeric’s office as soon as they got inside the Congregation, and there they said their goodbyes.

Etien ran her hand over the wind-up Aymeric’s hair, then her fingers through the soft locks of the real thing.

“If I can, I’ll write,” she said, watching Aymeric set up the miniature version of herself. “Funny, we split up, so they do, too.”

“Well, no version of us gets to be happy,” he said, but there was no bitterness in his voice. “I await the first correspondence eagerly.”

Etien smiled, a little less sadly. “Can I have a kiss before I go?”

“You can have a thousand,” Aymeric replied, rising and pulling her close.

When they parted, Etien blinked slowly. “Be safe.”

“Gods keep you,” he breathed. “If not, I will let them hear about it.”

Etien laughed. “That’s my line. Goodbye for now, Aymeric. Though it leaves in my chest, my heart is yours.”

“And you take mine with you for the same reason. Go, bring the Scions home so I can have you back.”

“I will!”

And she was gone. Aymeric sat down, sighing hard. He let himself cry for a moment, sniffling and wiping his eyes when he heard a knock.

“Yes?”

Lucia came in. “My lord… are you all right?”

“Ye—no. I am not. But I have to be. They need her, and you need me.”

Lucia patted his hand. “If I know one thing about Etien Mellifer, it’s that she can and will do anything to come back to you.”

_

Etien’s first thought when she exited the pool of water she’d woken up in was “I wish Aymeric could see this.”

She would have liked to see him in this, such bright blues, pure blacks, and shiny metals against the blazing purple surrounding her on all sides.

She sighed, making her way to town.

The Crystal Exarch was making for an excellent host, but that didn’t take away the shock. Time stretched and warped between the Source and the First, making the time her friends had been gone much longer here than there, though the reverse could just as well be so.

It made her wonder how much time had already passed for Aymeric. Or why he’d never gotten scooped  from there and brought here, since their fates were so tightly tied.

She shook her head at the thought. It would have shattered her if he had been. She could see herself now, weeping at his bedside if it had been so. Better this way, despite the sting.

But she was making her away around nicely now, at least. And thank the gods for Feo Ul, as well.

When she had been prompted, Etien did take the chance to send a message from the First, a hasty “Dear Tataru, I heard your words as I fell. We’re searching for the solution now, but we have a variety of circumstances to consider, I’ve found. Over all, I’m safe and will explain when I can. -Etien. P.S. Please tell Aymeric I’m all right, and that I will write.”

And away it went. Praise be that letters were still feasible. She would have lost her mind otherwise.

And so it was that Etien had gone from wandering the Pillars to staying in the Pendants.

She wanted to be optimistic, but these adventures were never easy, and as much as she could put aside the pain for the moment…

She slid her finger into her wedding ring, letting its weight rest on her finger. It was nothing compared to the weight of the knowledge she’d just gained. Dying in another calamity.

Better she did this. It hurt now, it would keep hurting, but hurting meant she still lived.

Still had something to live for.

[milesducemdominus]

chevalierhaurchefant​:

There was a sense of salvation in the kiss that followed. As gentle as the pressure of lips against lips was in that moment, Haurchefant was certain he never felt quite as much or as thoroughly as he felt in that moment.

He let his head sink so he could hide his face in the crook of the other’s neck when they parted, using the opportunity tö mindlessly press a subtle kiss to that area as well.

“Aymeric–” Overcome by emotions did he burry closer when the other spoke, the name laden with the adoration he was still unable to voice. It was the same for him. All Aymeric said Haurchefant felt fluttering in his own chest as well. He could almost taste his confession on his tongue then, but in the end, a small voice of reason that sounded suspiciously like that of his father piqued up in the back of his mind and let him know quite harshly what this could mean for them.

“This is such a bad idea–” he muttered then, because there were reasons he’d never done anything about his own feelings before, even though he struggled to recall even one of them until now.

When he found the courage to lean back to meet the other’s eyes again, his own were still red from tears. “Even for me–,” he reached up to cup the other’s cheek, a thumb brushing strands of hair aside before settling. “Even for us.” Because the two of them had come up with quite a few reckless things over the years, but nothing quite compared to this.

But despite the words there was still a smile tugging at Haurchefant’s lips.They’d have to talk about it when they were less agitated, less torn by all else there was to this moment. Once they were less exhausted from the day they’d jad, Aymeric most of all. But for now they could have this.

Haurchefant pressed another longer, more sensual kiss to Aymeric’s lips then, eyes fluttering closed through the duration of it. Despite his body sending all sorts of mixed signals caused by the proximity and unexpected touches he’d not press for more with how shaken they both were. In fact it was the furthest from his mind to initiate anything other than what they’d shared until now. It was simply the only way in which he seemed capable to express himself right now.

That beautiful elation he felt that clouded over all of the grief was sensational and frankly he could not have been any happier in those few moments - a beautiful relief in which he treasured so very deeply. 

Arms tightly wound around the others shoulders to simply hold him close, adoring the close contact and the further meaning to their embrace; yet within but only a few words did his heart sink to a whole new low that his entire person seemed to run entirely cold. More grief struck him and mixed with what he had already been suffering with, every limb feeling as if he was weighed down by a hideous amount of weight; cripplingly. 

By the time Haurchefant had cupped his cheek had Aymeric’s eyes welled up with further tears; what was he saying? That they could not be? He didn’t think his heart could sink any lower, but it proved him wrong. The male didn’t know what to think, didn’t know quite how to react or what to do- the vulgarity of the numbness from before had returned so fiercely. 

Once lips parted did Aymerc’s unwillingly wibble, biting back tears and the threat of sobs and thus he leaned enough to bury his face into Haurchefant’s shoulder; gripping close. For comfort, for fear of losing him, for need. 

“I’d do anything for you--”

[inviouswriting]

I love your writing and I wanted to know how Aymeric, Haurchefant would react when their WOL has a nightmare. Maybe even Thancred as well if you have time to write it.

Thank you! And this is a good thought. Some spoilers in here to the end of HW.

Aymeric - 

Nightmares happen, they’re the mind’s way of compartmentalizing events that have happened. He just wishes he could help you through them more than he can. When his WOL love has night terrors enough to wake him out of his sleep. Either whimpering or even a scream, he’s rubbing their back and kissing the sides of their face, talking them through it till they’ve woken up always speaking kind and gently. The nightmare that would plague his love most would be the events of Nidhogg!Estinien and the vault.  Some wounds do not heal. He has said this alot, and knows his love hurts from all the people they’ve saved and lost.

When he wakes up and sees his love sitting curled up and crying he’s pulling them into his arms. Curling almost around them to ground them to him. On days dealing with the PTSD moments, by carefully laying on top of them. He uses his body to provide comfort and develops ways to let them know it is him and not the nightmares. In the daytime he’s comforting them and has them curled up asleep in his arms. He comforts with his voice and actions. Helps them get through the terror and reminds them that he is there with them.

Haurchefant - 

The events of the Sultana weigh heavily, being persecuted for a crime his love did not commit. Let alone them seeing the body of a dear friend. He’ll rub their back in the middle of their sobs, get them hot drinks to calm them down. Soothing scents they like, or simply hold them till the nightmare passes. 

Any nightmare is taken serious, you face terrors untold and have seen things from the events of Waking sands to the fearsome beasts that no doubt haunt his partner’s mind from time to time. He’s an expert in raising your spirits back up with kind words of encouragement reminding you that they’re just dreams but your feelings are valid.

Thancred - 

He knows when you are tossing and turning. He’s quick to wind his arms around you and hold you close. A few times he’s done it you’ve socked his jaw as you woke up or bashed heads. He treats every nightmare different. The ones that are just from the primals or near death experiences he soothes those nightmares with words.

The ones where you’ve lost people, friends, and those that meant alot to you both. He’s burying his face into your neck and holding you as you cry, understanding that you need to cry out the bad dreams and grieve. Thancred will mention something to Tataru and she’ll pop up in the morning with your favorite drinks, and snacks along with setting you down to talk with her and Thancred about your troubles. 

[inviouswriting]

Family

Kiya is lost in thought as she and Aymeric wander through the Manderville Gold Saucer. Taking an opportunity to take a surprise date at where she use to work during her thaumaturge days.

Aymeric has an arm wound around her as they walked through, trying a few of the mini games. Aymeric being really good surprisingly at the moogle paw. Aymeric had many laughs over his wife when she came back from a round on the main stage with Typhoon. She had rinsed off the snot in the water below the stage meant for it.

Kiya had her laughs when he attempted it and came back after being tossed off stage from slice is right. As they walked through Kiya’s mind drifted to the life she had before him. Before all this. She grips Aymeric’s hand tight in her own at remembering when she was snatched by an amaalja group and then tossed into the embers for Ifrit. 

Aymeric stops and faces her, hands reaching under her chin to cup her face and have her look at him. He knows that look of hers, and kisses her out of it. Remembering those she had lost.

Aymeric pinches his love’s face enough to make her laugh and in turn bury her face into his torso when he offers his arms to her. 

Kiya feels safe again, and her eyes catch the sight of someone she hasn’t seen in a while.

Godbert. Kiya pulls back from Aymeric to greet her former boss, who waves to her.

“It is good to see you again. Not since your Ala Mihgan wedding?” Godbert looks between Aymeric and Kiya. Aymeric has an arm wound around his love.

“Indeed it has been a while.” Kiya leans closer to Aymeric.

“What brings you two here? A date? or questing?” Godbert notes how Kiya seems to be happy with Aymeric.

“Honeymoon.” Kiya says a little sheepish. Godbert gives a smile to the thought.

“Ah, you two finally made time for it. Well, don’t let me keep you from enjoying yourselves.” He was about to turn away when an idea strikes him.

“Wait, would you two join me and my wife? For a home dinner?” Kiya is taken aback, and looks up to Aymeric. He returns her gaze letting them talk, he was watching how Kiya’s demeanor was more relaxed, around the man. 

“I have no issue with it, if you want to.” Aymeric takes Kiya’s left hand in his right to bring it to his lips to kiss. Kiya feels her face heat up at the affection. She then nods to Godbert.

“We’d be thrilled to join you. Is Hildibrand there? too?” She earns a nod, a rare time the wandering inspector was home. 

The time spent between going into a more home spot within the walls of the casino like place. There Kiya and Aymeric are welcomed into the home by Godbert, and Julyan. Godbert has Kiya help in the kitchen while he talks to Aymeric.

They talk about simple things, marriage, and bits and pieces of Kiya’s former life Aymeric doesn’t hear about.

When it came time for food, everyone sat down to enjoy a heartfelt meal. Though it did not look it from Julyan’s presentation.

Kiya and Aymeric share more laughs with the group, and Kiya leans on her husband. Feeling a sense of home with them. Aymeric couldn’t contain his laughter over some of the shenanegains Hildibrand talked of, and had dragged Kiya into along with a few others. 

When it came time to leave, Kiya felt a sense of longing, she never had that after she left her home. Not till a few more years with House Fortemp adopting her. Aymeric can tell something weighs on her, and when they reach a little quiet spot in a hall. He pulls her into his arms.

“My love? tell me what is on your mind.” He feels her instantly bury her head into his chest and quietly sob.

“I miss the people I knew in my tribe... my mother.. my friends. But I can’t go back to that life.” Aymeric knew it had to deal with her former life. He holds her tight to him.

“My love, my love. You need to tell me these feelings.” He picks her up to hold her to him and nuzzles her face with his.

She confides in him.

“I never wanted to be disowned by them... I didn’t think following my heart would mean I lose them.” Kiya feels tears brim over and they’re wiped away by Aymeric’s thumbs.

“Shhh, my dear sweet love of my life. I know your heart still hurts from it. And it won’t heal without some sort of acceptance by her. If at all. My love. Look at me.” Aymeric tilts her head up to look at him. Thumbing away more tears that he sees.

“Look at all that you gained.” His words reach her, and she feels her eyes brim over again from overwhelming feelings. Aymeric leans down and presses a kiss to her lips.

“My love. My love. It’s okay to feel this.” Aymeric pulls her into his arms to console her better. He wished he could do more for her. All he can do is comfort her in his way. He coaxes her with him to sit down and holds her to him. Kiya nuzzles her face into his chest. A blush on her face as she feels a moment of weakness. Having to shove her feelings down for so long. Aymeric only rubs her back and lets her cry it out.

He sympathizes knowing her feelings of having to go life without a parent. He knew nothing of what happened with his birth mother. But the elderly couple that raised him are who made him. 

“My love, remember? Your home is with those that truly care and love you.” He feels her smile to his chest.

“I know. You are my home.” 

“As you are mine.” Aymeric tilts her head up and presses his lips softly to hers.

“We are a family now. You and I. And we’ll only grow. Our friends are part of it.” He keeps pecking her lips in kisses to get her to smile. She finally does, and Aymeric sees her bream bright to him.

“There we are. Shall we find a room of ours?”  He wants to let her be with him in private so her feelings and pride are spared from onlookers.

“Yes, please.” Aymeric lifts her into his arms and carries her towards the airship to head back to Ul’Dah.

Aymeric presses kiss and affection every step of the way to his beloved.

[inviouswriting]

Sorrow

Originally posted on my main blog. Reposting it to here.

Where it should be!

Kiya x Aymeric. The start of things. Cut for spoilers obviously. Everything after the Vault. 

Mentions of character death and the sort. Uh don’t read if you don’t want to have feels.

This is why I keep the angst and drama off my writing blog.

Kiya felt dazed as she wandered Ishgard, she is suppose to meet with those around her about what to do, to chase after Thordan. She was just at House Fortemp breaking the news of Haurchefant. Seeing Edmont break down, she left the house before she did the same. Her mind shattered for her fallen friend and adoptive brother.

What was more for her, was seeing her friend Tatyl broken down. She was in love with Haurchefant, and he had given his life to protect her. Not even her healing or raise spells would work. The Twelve know she tried, Kan-E-Senna had pulled her away to take her to Gridania for better comfort. 

Kiya was left to her own feelings, she had been dressed in lower layers of clothing a maidservant outfit. She was assisting with the memorial stuff, and felt it appropriate. 

She wasn’t watching where she is going, and bumped into a person. She reacts with a solemn sorry and looks up to see Aymeric, still sporting a sore arm from The vault. He regards her with a soft look to his eyes, seeing the pain writ in her eyes.

“Kiya, my friend, did you just come from?” He asks referring to Fortemps’ he is given a nod. The air was colder than normal almost reflecting the mood outside. Snow was trickling to a fro, and Aymeric sees Kiya visibly shivering. He wonders how long she was outside to be shivering.

“I-I’m sorry.” She says, Aymeric is unsure if the sorry was to him or something else. He loops his other arm around her knowing she is pained from the events.

“There is nothing to be sorry for. Come let’s warm you up. You are far too cold.” Aymeric brushes a hand on her cheek, and his suspicion is correct to get her out of the cold. Her painted lips make it hard for him to tell if she is hypothermic, but he guides her to his home.

Once inside he instructs his manservant for tea and blankets. Getting Kiya to sit down in a nicely furnished den in front of a fireplace. Aymeric sets about his own health grimacing from his arm, it was healing well, but sore. He returns to his guest draping a blanket over her shoulders. Kiya finally registers where she is as if broken out of the shocked daze.

“Aymeric! I... I do not mean to impose like this. Please...” She sees him sit next to her, and give her a warm smile he is dressed in a blue shirt with black pants. He holds out a cup of tea to her.

“Drink this.” Kiya takes the cup, her feline ears droop back to her head at his kindness. She feels like a mess, like she doesn’t deserve the title of Warrior of Light. Her thoughts overwhelm her as she looks at the delicate cup warming her hands. She only takes a sip before everything catches up to her at once. She sets the glass down so she doesn’t drop it, then buries her face into her hands and starts to sob freely.

“He’s gone! I couldn’t protect him!” Kiya says between her sobs, she is pulled into Aymeric’s chest and he lets her cry, something he had been wanting to do, but she beats him to it. He rests his head on top of hers.

“Shh... I know...” He tries, he does know, he was there. He held his friend. He saw Kiya’s pained face upon realization she lost someone dear, someone whose life was taken protecting hers because he believes her light so fierce. 

Kiya winds her arms around Aymeric’s torso burying her face into it. All he can do is pet the top of her head and try to even attempt to soothe her. What he does is let her cry, till his shirt is soaked in her tears. 

This goes on through the evening, she spoke of her tales with Haurchefant before she met Aymeric. She had resigned herself to laying her head in Aymeric’s lap letting him pet her head and ears, she found it soothing. She would add more tears when she reflected on the events that happened. He would feel them in his thigh.

Aymeric had lost track of time and noted it was well pass midnight and sighs. She had fallen asleep, he had been able to get her to eat something and now he was vexed with getting her to her home. His manservant suggests the guest room, and he agrees, having help carrying her there. She is light, and hangs limp from his servant’s arms. He did not like that sight of her.

Kiya stirs when she is set on the cold bed, and curls into it finding a pillow. A whimper escapes her, and Aymeric sits on the other side of the bed close to her.

“It is alright, I am still here.” He places a hand on her head, a grimace as he leaned on his wounded arm, his body ached from his own time in The Vault. He knows he will have scars from it, but physical scars heal compared to mental wounds. Those do not heal so well. 

“Please don’t leave me alone.” Kiya murmurs in her sleep, her hands gripping at one of his sleeves. Aymeric lets his manservant go assuring him he is fine for now.

“I’m not going anywhere. You have mine promise, my friend.” He leans against the headboard as Kiya curls into his side. How he wished this was under different circumstances. He never thought he would witness the great warrior of light break down in tears like this. He is reminded in that moment, she is still mortal and a normal person under all those titles. He pets her long hair in a comforting manner till her breathing evens out. He notes the tears that dot the ends of her eyes and wipes them away.

When she is finally asleep and sound he hears someone knocking. Aymeric sighs knowing his manservant is asleep after helping him with Kiya. Grimacing he gets up and goes to the door after brushing the back of Kiya’s face with his hand.

 “I will be back shortly.” Aymeric murmurs hoping she will be asleep when he returns to her. He thumbs away another line of tears he sees. At the door, he opens it to see Artoriel with an umbrella. The snow steadily falling harder.

“Ser Aymeric, sorry to disturb you so late, have you seen our friend? Alphinaud is worried. Said she left in a daze.” He asks, and Aymeric gives a nod.

“She’s here, I bumped into her earlier on my way back. She was too cold to let her wander... She is asleep. She cried herself to sleep in my arms..” Aymeric did all he could in his condition along with what she needed.

“Do you wish me to take her back?” Artoirel offers, only for Aymeric to shake his head no.

“No need to wake her when she just fell asleep. She can stay the night here, then tomorrow if she is feeling up to it, she will visit Fortemps, or she might go straight to the Congregation to meet with everyone there.” Aymeric explains, he notes the fresh layer of snow on the ground. 

“Ah, then take care of her. I shall let Father know that she is safe and Alphinaud.” He gives a bow, and receives one. 

“Oh, before I go, a way to cheer her up, she does like mint tea.” He suggests and steps off to go home. Aymeric returns back inside and to his friend. He checks and sees her still asleep, but silently shivering from a dream. 

He keeps his promise and lays down next to her to rest. He feels her cling to his side for warmth. How he wished this was under different circumstances.

The next day, Aymeric had to leave before she woke up, but he left instructions for his servant to follow in giving her tea and a bowl of soup. Still worried for her health after being in the cold for so long. Kiya is thankful, and feels her heart ache from the memories. 

She accepts the food she was offered and drink. She heads to the inn and changes her appearance, having her long hair cut short with a hair band holding it, and two green stars dot under her right eye.

Kiya takes a deep breath and goes to the congregation. Meeting up with everyone, solemn expressions, her eyes on Aymeric who gives her a wistful smile.

Alphinaud asks him how his wounds are, and he carefully glances to Kiya before he chooses his words.

“Some wounds do not heal.” He catches Kiya’s eyes as he says it, the pained expression brief, but there. He carries on with plans, knowing things must go on even when everyone in the room rather not.

He feels his own heart pang wanting to comfort his friend. Even as he waves her off to have her carry out her missions. The last time he speaks with her is before she treads to Azys Lla, he hopes she comes back from her fight with his father. He prays to Halone that she does.

Aymeric does not know what will happen if he learns of her fate be grim. He has already fallen in love with her, and he couldn’t tell her.

[ladyborel]

Passing Strange, Settling Sweet

Aymeric had every faith Etien was going to be fine—she’d slain Primals while out of his sight—but now that he was going into battle with her, he was worried about her. He was going to have to see what happened to her, for good or ill.

The whole way through the Vault, he barked out his commands, and she obediently followed, pulling off some deeply impressive maneuvers, only needing his support one. Maybe twice, but she had had it in hand; he just wanted to help her out.

So he had no trouble sending her and Artoirel off to get to the other hostages while he fought for his life.

He just hoped they made it back before his strength ran out.

He couldn’t remember ever having seen Etien in battle, and had no idea what to expect, but he was wholly unprepared if this was what she was always like.

He was busy fighting still, of course, but she was tailing him closely and religiously, guarding him against any rear approaches, so he caught a few glimpses. And what he saw was breathtaking, though equally terrifying.

He’d seen her top lip pulled back in a nervous smile plenty of times in the time they’d known each other, but now it was curled in an outright snarl. Her eyeteeth gleamed, lit by magicks and the faint light around them alike, jaw set and teeth grit, except in a shout or the moment after, when she was too preoccupied to shut it right away.

Arrow after arrow flew, and Aymeric was unsure which were Etien’s and which were the Auditor’s. But in the glow of each Rain of Death loosed from Etien’s bow, she looked more horribly fierce.

Etien, the selfless little woman who came into his office with a gentle, pleasant expression—she was feral.

Aymeric was just glad that expression was leveled in his defense, rather than at him.

If he was completely honest, it shook him. A whole new side of Etien.

But then, it was over, and she settled. He watched her quickly return to the Etien he knew.

They continued up the stairs to the last hostage, and as he consoled and freed them, he heard Etien’s heaving breaths behind him. Before they went anywhere, as Artoirel took the hostage, Aymeric turned to her.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she panted. “Let’s go.” So side by side, they exited the room of the Vault.

Etien had stopped just short of Aymeric’s hand when he threw it out to hold her back, her confusion quickly morphing into rage when she saw the priest.

He tossed a quick glance back at her as he and the priest shouted back and forth. Her lip was curling again and a deep growl seemed to form in her, pupils slitting and ears laying back.

They both ran to the edge of the platform, watching Maelie drop. And both gasped as a shadow passed through the clouds.

Aymeric grabbed Etien’s sleeve to bring her back through the Vault, realizing halfway through that he had a severe height advantage on her, slowing enough that he didn’t trip or drag her, but still moving at a steady clip.

They made it outside to find Maelie clinging to Lucia’s skirts as they both stood before Vidofnir.

They received Hraesvelgr’s words from Vidofnir, and she was gone. When everyone had gone away, and it was just Aymeric and Etien standing on the Hoplon, she leaned against him, sighing hard.

“How are you faring?” she asked.

“I will heal, given time.”

Edmont approached them, and at the mention of Haurchefant, as well as the implication that Edmont viewed Aymeric as something of a son, Etien was fully unsettled. Aymeric heard her breathing shift.

Edmont left, and after a beat, she turned, wrapping her arms around Aymeric and letting out a sob. Then another, until he felt the wracking of her body against him.

“Etien,” he breathed, letting his hand come to rest on the back of her head. He tried to keep his voice soft, so as not to disturb her further.

She lifted her head from his clothing. “That was horrifying.”

“After all you’ve done? I should think a few knights should be nothing of a challenge.”

“Never at the risk of so dear a friend,” she replied. Oh, she was seriously crying, still curled around him.

“Indeed? Not Alphinaud?”

Etien snuffled. “I mean no offense to Alphinaud, but no, not like this.”

Aymeric chuckled, though it wasn’t entirely funny. It was more that he was amused by such an answer, rather than the situation that had provoked it. He scratched behind Etien’s ear absently as he thought.

He was honored she had sought him out for comfort more than once now, and about different things. He wouldn’t deny that. And he wished he was better able to do the same with her. She listened so attentively to everything he had to say, both in conversation and in a battle, and he…

He was so glad she was safe. He ducked and kissed the top of her head.

“All is well, Etien,” he whispered to her. “We had best return to our proper places.”

Nothing was entirely well, he knew that, and he knew she knew that. But they were both safe. They could talk about this—and everything else that was surely on their minds—some other time.

Still, as he released Etien from his grasp, he watched her wilt like a flower in a frost and his heart ached.

No, surely that was all his wounds aching after such hard fighting.