#aymeric fluff

"My mind in a haze, not wanting her to turn away, thinking of all the flowers I could give her. A field of flowers, if she would allow me."

If I had been a wiser or a better man, I would have seen that she was not mine. That she was not anyone's, that she belonged solely to herself and that we were lucky to be in her favor. That rather than chase the acclaim so deeply owed, rather than chasing the riches anyone would part with to give her, she chose to fight for our whims. To pursue our hopes, our dreams. That any day, she might be off to another land to perform the same miracle for someone else.

Instead, I found her on the Gates of Judgement. I grabbed her by the legs and swept her up onto my shoulders to march among her jubilant comrades in arms as we bellowed every song our hearts could recall.

The balance between my role as a knight had long been eclipsed by my role as a politician, now more clearly than ever. My days became planning for vast displays of peace and hope, each interrupted in some way. Emmanellain's poor choice in the face of skeptical citizens, a poisoning of our champion to keep her off the board as rebellion played out in the streets once more.

In light of doubt that we were out of touch as Lords, a well founded doubt, I thought of a way to prove to both highborn and lowborn that our heart still beat the same. In light of change and upheaval, we were still capable of giving our nation the strength and protection sworn to them. We could give that to them tenfold with the aid of our stalwart comrades across the continent. Someday, if they trusted in our vision, we could provide the support of allies from across the star.

Lucia was clear in her misgivings. I understood, I respected them. To create a spectacle of military strength was common in Garlemald, and I did not wish to remind her of the land she had fled. But to provide any measure of confidence to my people, I had to. Still, I must.

When I asked Lua to be the face of this display of strength, she closed her eyes and tilted her face to the floor. My heart sank into my gut. I had asked too much of someone who gave much and more. When she raised her head and slammed her fist into her palm, I howled with joy. "Together, we will give them a spectacle for the ages!" Her laughter chimed outside of my door afterwards, accompanying what I assumed was chiding from Thancred. I feared what the Scions thought of me. Opportunistic, petty even? Desperate? Desperate as I was, needy as I was, it pained me to think that any of them may have seen me that way.

--

"I shall speak plain. Ishgard has need of allies, and I would have you bolster our front lines in readiness for the coming battle against the dragons."

"This much I expected", he sighed. "Unlike our arrangement concerning the Keeper of the Lake, however, only you stand to benefit from our assistance in this matter. I fail to see why we should intervene in a conflict which concerns only Ishgard and Dravania."

"I make no attempt to defend my country's conduct. I only ask that you consider what would follow were Ishgard to fall," I stated as matter of factly as I could. The young Lord had learned the dance, he knew how to find my true intentions and sweat out my most candid thoughts. My unveiled intentions.

I continued, "Having razed our city to the ground, the Horde would have little cause to linger, and most would return to their lairs in Dravania.

Soon thereafter, the ruins of Coerthas would be buried in snow, and the land would become the sole province of beasts and beastmen.

...Until the Garleans' arrival, that is─for you may be certain that the Empire would not hesitate to claim Coerthas. They would not even have to draw steel."

The truth of the matter reached the young elezen's eyes. Mor Dhona, overwhelmed by the Hoarde and Garlean soldiers, scattering Doman refugees into the wind once again. A fallen Revenant's Toll, giving way to Garlean infringment into Gridania. Bloodshed spilling from the Twelveswood and onto the shores of the Maelstrom's domain and the sands of Thanalan.

As the vision filled his mind, Alphinaud slowly exhaled, "Very well─we will assist you in repelling the dragons. The roar of a great wyrm may have shaken the firmament, but we of Eorzea will not abandon our Ishgardian brothers to face the coming Horde alone."

--

Perhaps I had asked too much of her, yet she did not waver. Engulfed in the flames of the Bull of Ala Mhigo, wearing Ishgard's colors, she deftly cut through General Aldynn's heavy movements with her swift chakrams. The practiced, graceful moves of a dancer comfortable even in a paladin's greaves.

The leaders of Gridania, Thanalan, and Vylbrand greeted me to congratulate me of my nation's victory. Of her victory. They betrayed some hesitation that she would represent Ishgard, after all the effort she had taken on behalf of their own. With no intended offense to them with full risk of offending them regardless, I took some measure of pride in seeing her triumphant wearing my colors. My face and voice betrayed me once again, smug and gleeful. Raubahn's eyes found me, a knowing smirk. Seeing the contents of my heart resemble his own for another, reading the truth that I could not yet speak out loud.

If I had been a wiser or a better man, I would have seen that she was not mine. That she was not anyone's, that she belonged solely to herself and that we were lucky to be in her favor. That rather than chase the acclaim so deeply owed, rather than chasing the riches anyone would part with to give her, she chose to fight for our whims. To pursue our hopes, our dreams. That any day, she might be off to another land to perform the same miracle for someone else.

Instead, I found her on the Gates of Judgement. I grabbed her by the legs and swept her up onto my shoulders to march among her jubilant comrades in arms as we bellowed every song our hearts could recall.

--

I blushed at the feeling of her warmth against my neck as her small body shook with song. Her light voice blended into the deep bellows of victorious Temple Knights as we made our way through Foundation, our countrymen showering our party with flowers and flowing ale.

On arrival at the Forgotten Knight, I gently placed her down at the door. Her hair sticky, stinking with sweat and ale, pale snowflowers stuck between curls. My breath caught in my throat as I watched the back of her head disappear into the crowd. All night, she danced, we danced, they danced. Sweatier, loudly stepping to the beat in her ill fitting greaves, the smallest we could find for her. I noticed my own sweat, soaking into my collar as I danced faster and faster to keep up with her. Wondering how long I could keep up until I fell, dizzy and dazed from the ale and the emotion of the room.

My answer came at last as another, faster dancer swept Lua up in her arms and continued the jig. I brushed it off, retiring to a corner to reminisce with Lucia. Recalling other days before my responsibilities, before anyone thought it unusual for me to dance with a woman in a bar or to drink more than a single flagon for my composure.

--

The Warrior of Light wished to walk me home instead of our usual arrangement. Stumbling on her inconveniently sized boots, sipping a glass of water, she insisted. She told me that she loved our night walks. Once again, I found myself grateful for the dim lighting of the Forgotten Knight.

--

"I was a bit worried back there," she confessed

"Worried? What for?"

"When you fell, you didn't come back. I thought maybe you had hurt yourself until I saw you with Lucia."

"Yes, I was a somewhat out of my depth. It has been some time since I allowed myself to open up in that way. To forget myself for a moment."

"Forget yourself how?"

"My station, a leader of men, I suppose."

She laughed a horrible snorting sound, laughter erupting from me in response. That she could be so indelicate, so irreverent! She pushed her finger to her nose, with an accent common to these lands but not her own tongue, she scoffed "The Loooord Commaaaaandeer of the Hooooly See of Iiiiishgaaard could not be seen having fun. By the FUUUUUUURY!"

I couldn't help myself, my body doubled over in the wake of her impression. Her arm slid across my back to hold herself up as she continued bellowed riotous laughter, "A leeeeeader of MEN! In the company of drunkards in a BAR! Well, I NEVER!"

"I just-" I regained my breath, "I just couldn't disappoint. You clearly know what's expected of me." I chuckled into her ear. The moment was broken once our eyes met. Still dazed from our ale, but resuming full awareness of ourselves. Me, a leader of men and she a Warrior of Light. Her hand slid off of my back, brushing my own hand on its' way back to her side. We walked quietly, almost silently save for the small chuckle from us both as we recalled the moment before.

When we arrived at my estate, I threw her my own mockery. Thanking my hero, the vaunted Warrior of Light, savior of Eorzea, savior of Ishgard, devourer of ale for seeing me safely home. Her laughter could only be described as chiming, like metal in the breeze. Her hair blew in the chilled wind, one last snowflower claiming a long strand for itself. I plucked it from her, soaking in the sound of her chimes as I displayed it to her. My mind in a haze, not wanting her to turn away, thinking of all the flowers I could give her. A field of flowers, if she would allow me. Her face became stoic, body pulled into a sharp salute, broken immediately by more laughter as she failed to keep her face straight. She disappeared into the night, giggling on the dark path back to Fortemps Manor.

--

"For the first time since I was a squire, I left my lover's home from a window."

"She exhaled deeply, eyes shut still. My great love, Ishgard, had towered before all other loves. Yet, it shrank as I watched her. I wanted her to feel just as the traveler had in his long voyage away from his ruined star. To feel safe, to feel that she had found it again. That she might stay in Ishgard forever, that this was enough. That this could be her home."

In the weeks after that night, I felt I'd made myself a fool once again. The fantasies I'd held about the contents of The Warrior of Light's heart seemed to be just that, a fantasy. The impolite visions I had conjured in my mind. The hope that I had created when she had only been kind to me, expecting that more would be a possibility. Welcomed by her, even! That I could know more than her strength, but her heart. To see her intimately, to see every shade of her. That she might want to know me not as a colleague, not just a friend.

Humiliated, I refused her meetings. In truth, I was quite busy. The work of raising a nascent republic was endless. Days of arid reports, contentious meetings. A nation that begged to be rebuilt from years of terror from the skies. The Firmament had been razed, due for the efforts of us all.

My contacts with the Eorzean alliance kept me apprised of the Scions' movements. Invited to Gridania, to Baelsar's Wall, and every engagement asked of me, I provided all I could. My presence, my blade, as many men as I could spare. Occasionally, whatever honesty I could offer. My insecurity standing among more seasoned leaders on the star's stage, my hope that my words carried to them as clearly as they had seemed in my mind.

Each time I held her attention, I wished I had been a wiser or a better man as I carried her off after the Grand Melee or as I begged permission for her courtship from House Fortemps. I would have understood that she was not mine. I wouldn't wince as she was spirited away to new lands, performing the same miracles for someone else. I saw these miracles with my own eyes for the first time, watching as she bore the new dawn of nations.

To my surprise, she continued her work in the Holy See amidst it all. I sent the most polite thanks as she worked, laying eyes on her efforts once she had finished. I did not dare allow myself the thought that her return was more than obligation, that she had some love of Ishgard that would drive the Saint of the Firmament to stay among us.

I announced the construction of a housing district for adventurers out of gratitude for their labor, opening some time after the Firmament's completion. In the back of my mind, though I refused to spend time with the thought, I wished that she would come to claim land of her own.

--

I had stopped waiting for my messages, tracing the path from post-moogle to my desk. They arrived daily from across the Holy See, from representatives across the continent. They blended into the many days of my work. That is, until one package rested atop the many letters requesting my review. Post marked from Gyr Abania, a thick envelope. A small painting of Rhalgr's Reach, signed "Lua, Devouerer of Ale". Affixed to it, a green powder marked "Cactus Tea". A note on stained paper, grains of sand dripping from the creases as I unfolded it, "Happy Valentione's Day, Lua"

Promptly, I set aside my papers. I had told myself many moons ago that I could, that I would make time for her. As Lord Speaker and Lord Commander, I would somehow find the time. I left, scythe in hand to source the finest Coerthan tea leaves I could send in return.

--

She had received my tea leaves along with my best attempt at birch syrup. I fancied myself a fine cook until I tried my hand at something she had expertly crafted so many times before. She did work miracles with her hands.

She would return briefly to commune with Francel regarding the conclusion of their work on the Firmament, she would be back in Ishgard within a fortnight.

--

Her countenance had changed. Talkative as ever but with a more certain tone, her words meeting their mark sure as her fists. Tanned from the Gyr Abanian sun, body thinned from long days between meals but etched with new muscles from her hikes through the wilds described in her missive a fortnight past. Battling Warriors of Darkness, learning unfathomable truths of our star. She repeated one warrior's words to me, Ardbert was his name.

"We did everything right, everything that was asked of us, and still–still, it came to this! You of all people should understand!"

"I did. I thought I did. When I realized what they gave to travel to our star, to save their own. I don't fully understand, but the conviction in their eyes. Giving everything and realizing that they had lost despite all intention..." she trailed off, her own eyes losing conviction and glazing over as she meditated on Ardbert's words.

"Do you question the strength of your own campaign?"

"Often. For Ala Mhigo, for Doma, Garlemald has been a generations long tormentor. For me, it's new. Everything is new, I'm always learning some new horror that keeps Ala Mhigo from believing in liberation," she confided.

"I thank God for Lyse every day. I love seeing her passion, her willingness to wait for her people to meet it. She patiently works every day to show them what they can win, after everything they've lost. She makes me believe in it all myself."

She left me with many thoughts, but the newness of it all captured my mind. It encompassed many questions I'd left unasked in favor of others during her time in Ishgard.

"New? Was Garlemald not a threat to your own lands?" I strayed from the topic at hand, curiosity catching me.

"No," her body bristled as if she had already offered too much. "Aymeric, I..." her eyes cast down to the floor. "I'd like to show you something."

--

I followed her back to her quarters at House Fortemps. I had never seen it before, but I imagined that it looked the same as it ever had. Full of plush moogles, chocobos. Paintings of our closest friends, some of acquaintances I had made, others I had not, lined the walls. She made for a cupboard near the window, returning with arms full of orchestrion rolls. Her eyes searched mine as the orchestrion shuddered to life.

Brass instruments screamed harmonious joy, a husky voiced man in an accent resembling hers shouted with elation. I had never seen her like this. The peace that spread out on her face, from the freckles around her eyes to her lips. She swayed gently, eyes closed in the sea of horns and rhythm before she opened them once more. The freedom of the bard, uncontrollably jubilant. The sound reverberated in my chest, I could feel it all over just as his words promised.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"Yes, it's unusual. Joyful." I struggled to describe it to her, I had never heard a combination of sounds like it before.

She lowered the volume and grabbed my hand as she walked towards her bed. Smoothing her skirt, she sat, urging me to join her. I obliged, aware of myself hot in the face. I felt out of place in my armor, cold steel in her rose scented room.

"And with a voice like Ella's ringing out, there's no way the band could lose"

--

She told me her story. Waking alone in the Gridanian forest, learning the ways of a land she had never laid eyes on before. She shared her regret for words left unspoken before she lost the time, her growing attachment to me, her fear that she had offended me in some way. My voice failed me. I whispered that she hadn't, that she could never.

Delighted in her candor, I listened as she told me her most hidden secrets. The strange device given to Cid, the images of people she might have loved. The books I had seen her guard so fiercely, loved to thinning and dog eared pages. That she, like the traveler she read about so often, felt adrift. That her time among us had been a welcome anchor, that her return time and time again bound her to reality.

We talked for hours, the sun disappeared without my notice. Every thought unsaid between us, laughed quietly into the night. She revealed to me that she had never finished her most treasured book, afraid of damaging the worn paper stuck together by rain. I flipped through the available pages, admiring the delicately painted images. I felt her hesitation as I offered to try. With our hands, we gently pulled the pages apart. I read it aloud to her, throwing my voice as I played the collection of characters.

“I stood looking over my damaged home and tried to forget the sweetness of life on earth.”

She hitched her breath as we neared the end,

"I remember damage. And escape. Then...adrift in a stranger's galaxy for a long time."

I asked if she was ready, if she wanted to hear how it ended. She nodded, closing her eyes.

"But I'm safe now. I found it again. My home."

She exhaled deeply, eyes shut still. My great love, Ishgard, had towered before all other loves. Yet, it shrank as I watched her. I wanted her to feel just as the traveler had in his long voyage away from his ruined star. To feel safe, to feel that she had found it again. That she might stay in Ishgard forever, that this was enough. That this could be her home.

--

I released her fingers, intertwined with mine, to hold her face, hot in my hands. I took note of every freckle, every scar. She kissed my hands, pulling me down with her onto the bed. She let me know her in wordless ways, ways I'd shamed myself for dreaming of.

My doubts over the many moons that passed between our dinner and that afternoon faded. My fear of impropriety, my fear of misunderstood kindness. Her hands unclasping each piece of my armor, she traced my scars. She inhaled swiftly, knowing what some meant and worrying for the story of others. I asked if she had ever taken a lover before.

"Not that I remember. Not here, not yet."

I kissed every ilm of her body, praying that I would be the very last.

--

For the first time since I was a squire, I left my lover's home from a window. House Fortemps had stirred with the rising sun as I held the Warrior of Light, breathing softly into my chest. I ran my fingers through her hair as she awoke to a knock, her body jolting out of a peaceful slumber. Spying the height of the sun in the sky, I realized was late for a meeting at the Congregation, struggling to remember where my small clothes landed. Before I could reach them, I felt Lua's hand press my head under her sheets as the persistent knock gave way to a visitor.

Muffled against the fabric and my own breathing, I heard the orchestrion playing the same tunes from the evening before. A voice, Emmanellain's voice. For a mercy, she swiftly shooed him away, begging for her privacy as she held a pillow to her bare chest. As the door closed, she pulled the sheets from my head.

--

I climbed halfway out of the window, leaning for one last kiss. Another. Three more. I dropped into the garden, pieces of my partially unbuckled armor hanging off of my body.

--

Another kiss, stolen in the moments before her ship left for the East. I tried to control my gait, swaggering from the Congregation down the steps to the aetherite plaza, breaking into a run once I'd reached Limsa Lominsa. Running, as fast as I could, to the docks. If I ever see the man again, I would apologize to the fisherman who accosted me for scaring away his quarry.

Her hands found me, pulling me into a small room. A mop rubbed against the back of my head in the darkness. She leapt into my arms, one kiss finding my face, another my neck. She pressed a new orchestrion roll into my hands then unlocked the door to disappear into the salty wind. The horn bellowed impatiently as she ran for the boat, straightening her clothes, brushing her hair out of her face and into a braid.

The dust never settles for the Warrior of Light. For each war won, another looms in the distance. Wiser and better, I see that now.

As the Dragonsong War came to a close, I had something I hadn't had much of in my term as Lord Commander: time.

A certain Lord Commander tells us the answer to a private question, what he wants for himself after the dust has settled.

One plan after another, failed. Thwarted attempts at peace. Still, somehow we survived. A trial to earn Hraesvelgr's trust, only for Nidhogg to wound Hraesvelgr shortly after. Peace so carefully brokered between man and dragon, out of grasp every time we approached it.

But in spite of it all, my dear friend was with us again. Estinien had been corrupted by Nidhogg, feared lost to us all, adrift in the sea of the wyrm's hatred. But he was safe now, he had found us. He was home again.

--

A brief moment embraced us all, shortlived but powerful. Quiet in Ishgard as we took stock of where we had been and where we were going. Raucous laughter among the adopted sons and daughters of House Fortemps filling the house with sound, Count Edmont's face with an unyielding smile and eyes with tears.

As the Dragonsong War came to a close, I had something I hadn't had much of in my term as Lord Commander: time. Evenings returning the Warrior of Light to House Fortemps wouldn't end at the doorstep, but in the sitting room before a roaring fire, each moment more precious than the last.

I had made a fool of myself the night of the Grand Melee. Dancing and drinking harder than I had as a squire. Her arm wrapped around me on the steps of the Pillars as she lost her legs to the laughter controlling her body. I enjoyed the night, truly, but I did not want to give the wrong impression.

I loathed the thought that she might think I viewed her as a conquest, only enjoying private time together to slink around in the night or behind the closed doors of my office. Any curious set of eyes could have seen us, her clinging to me in the middle of the night. Any number of thoughts could be born from that sight. I sought to immediately make my, perhaps our, indiscretion right.

--

I sought out Count Edmont privately as I could. Letting the sound fade behind the door, Edmont's face confused if not concerned.

"Out with it, bear your grim tidings." he moaned

"Grim? I beg your pardon?"

"To spirit me away from the ears of our loved ones, I expected only words that would spoil the mood."

"Perhaps," I warned. "For fear of risking the integrity of House Fortemps once more, I would like to ask your permission."

Brows twisted into further bemusement. "I would like your permission," I repeated, "to court a ward of House Fortemps"

Confusion gave way to shock, followed swiftly by the longest hug I have received as a grown man. "To protect her as he would have?" he whispered into my ear. To think he knew of whom I spoke as soon as the question passed my lips. Had I been so obvious? Listening to tales, laughing with our comrades in the sitting room, perhaps I had been naked in my intent. My eyes betrayed my thoughts, focusing primarily on her regardless of who was speaking.

I nodded, keeping my oath. To know her, to see her as she really is. To never stand on ceremony with her again, only to feel as free as I had felt in all of the precious time I'd enjoyed in her company. To protect her honor from prying eyes that question my intentions or her own, to court her properly. To love her, fully and true if she would have it.

--

The next day, the newly acquired luxury of time would prove difficult to keep. It slipped through my wanting hands as the day wore on.

My dream, the dream of many had been fulfilled, Ishgard had become a republic. I considered my future, pouring a drop of rich birch syrup into my tea. Savoring it on my lips, thinking of who I must be in the eyes of Ishgard now that I could relinquish my temporary powers. Our lives had changed, and I could choose the normal that I returned to. Lucia had long been a reliable knight, rising beyond the call of duty time and time again. It was unthinkable at my age, to resign and let my first commander become Lord Commander. But perhaps...

Ishgard had been my sole love, towering before any other. The season of my youth had come and was beginning to pass as I watched knights younger than me take husbands and wives, sire children. Was it so wrong to want something for myself, just this once?

--

By the afternoon, my fate was decided. I had been elected speaker of the newly founded House of Lords. I thought of my proposal to Count Edmont, the plan I had set in motion. Allowing myself some measure of grief for what I had thought I could have, what might happen if I'd just had more time. Time for myself, time for her. Nay, I could make the time as Lord Commander and Lord Speaker.

In the time that has passed since, in becoming a wiser and better man, I know that I was foolish. That it was not my lack time that held me away from her, but far more. That an attempt to make time while we still had it available to us was not enough.

--

I saw to my plans to have her over to my home. I had gotten permission from House Fortemps, not from its' new head but from its' heart. With Count Edmont's consent, the question of her consent remained. I sent word with a servant from my home to invite her for a meal at my home that night. With my promise of time, I hurried home before the sun set. I joined the kitchen staff to prepare a meal, answered questions from the flustered minds that I had upset with a change in routine. I dismissed as many as would leave, though some showed strange interest in staying. I suppose it had been quite a while since I had any guests, any requests for lavish food, for any food at all. A spectacle for the ages, it would seem.

I reflected while waiting for my Sohm Al tart to reach perfection. Had I jumped to conclusions? My earlier offer for a drink was met with surprise and trepidation. Was dinner in my home too forward? If my feelings were not returned, would she be horrified that I had spoken to Count Edmont about my intent? I'm sure that word had passed from him to Artoirel, god forbid Emmanellain. Once it had reached Emmanellain's ears, it must pass through the ears of every Ishgardian willing to listen to the gossip he dispenses. Had I made a mistake?

Indeed, I had. Lost in my reverie, my tart had burnt. The price of seeking perfection, I suppose. No one truly could. Then again, I to this day have never tried the Warrior of Light's Sohm Al tart. Hm. Another day.

I rushed to find suitable clothing, something that would allow her to consider me outside of my role. To see me in a new light. Perhaps she would wear something other than battle gear or funeral clothes. I tried on more clothing than I am proud to admit.

The last shirt felt too much like bedclothes, I did not want her to think I was attempting to take her to bed. The suggestion was improper, but what if she did wrap me in an embrace, wild haired and wide eyed, demanding I take her to bed with me? Would I have the strength to stop myself from carrying her off on my shoulders once more? What if she arrived in pyjama-like clothing as well, content to fall asleep on my setee instead of her own, thick lashes beating against her soft cheeks?

A sharp knock rapped against my door. She was here. Waiting in the foyer, she was here. There was no time to change and I prayed that my neurotic thoughts were controlling my self perception, my clothes were fine. It is just dinner with a dear friend, a dinner at which I hoped against hope that she wanted to know me as deeply as I wanted to know her.

--

"I must say, your spirited accounts always come as a welcome change from the arid reports which fill my days", I sighed as she told me about her quest for the horn at Moghome.

"Though I have lived in these lands my entire life, to hear you speak of them, there is much and more I have yet to see", I admitted.

Truthfully, I felt an ilm of jealousy in the ease with which she spoke of her time in my homeland. The details she noticed on her many journeys. The peoples she treated with, viewing each and all as an equal. No pretense between them, only honest words. I longed for that kind of candor. No smoke and mirrors, no political dances of persuasion. "Truly, yours was a marvelous journey", I sighed.

Casually, she asked "Why not join me on the next?"

For a moment, I thought she had heard me those months ago. Silently praying to her from my desk that she think of me on her journeys, that she write me a missive describing the sights before her. But to join her? I could hardly stifle my excitement.

"Hah!" I cried, considering her offer.

"Well...truth be told, when I think back on the sweeping vistas of the Churning Mists, I do feel some slight pangs of wanderlust..."

I longed for honesty, but the day's news stood between me and my most earnest wishes. The pangs were deep, for more than sweeping vistas of endless sky. I feared my own eagerness, counting the doubts I held shortly before her arrival. I feared her reaction if I reached across the table, if I dashed across the room to her seat to beg that her suggestion held a promise to take me with her.

My fear was powerful. I closed my eyes, acquiescing to the reality of that time. "Alas, as much as I would like to accept your invitation, I fear my present duties with the House of Lords require my undivided attention. Someday, perhaps."

Someday, I would make the time. If only she could allow me to settle the freshly born republic into safety, to complete my term, to allow a successor the spoils of my efforts. I regretted my words. Someday suggested an eternity. I did not know myself how long it would take, but I knew that it would not be forever. But did she? Through veiled words, could she see my intent? The yearning for a moment under foreign skies not as the Warrior of Light and the Lord Speaker, simply Lua and Aymeric?

My voice softened, I failed. I betrayed a hint of myself, misstepping in a waltz of subterfuge that she hadn't asked to dance.

"I can still see you there, on the Steps of Faith, striding fearlessly towards the wyrm..." Like my smug pride the day first we spoke at Camp Dragonhead, my voice gave away my awe. "If you could do that, who are we to balk at the challenges ahead?"

She blushed, perhaps considering her words carefully as well "I do what I can." Modest to a fault. Determined to see her blush once more, I apprised her of the great thanks Ishgard held for her. I toasted her with the finest wine I could find that afternoon, winning the red face and ruddy cheeks I sought.

Lowering my glass, my intent betrayed me once more. The purpose of her visit, of my failed Sohm Al tart, of my challenge to speak intent through careful words and the correct shirt. The question had come to me in private moments before I slept or as I quieted impolite discussions about the shine of her hair or the scent of roses left in her wake. I had imagined what she might say. To continue adventuring, to adventure with my friends, for you to join me. To stay in Ishgard, to feel it wholly my home. To fall in love, to find myself cared for. To never hold a new scar on my skin, to be beloved by someone strong. To be held like something fragile, never to suffer fresh grief again.

The question spilled from me before I could collect it back into my mind.

"May I ask you a personal question?"

She nodded.

"Now that the dust has settled, what will you do? Not as a Scion, I mean, but...what do you want for yourself?"

She paused, surprised. Perhaps she had not considered it before. My heart tugged, imagining myself beside her in foreign lands. In my home, in a different home all our own. In my bed on a sunny morning, fair weather returned to Coerthas. Her, surrounded by children of my countenance and her chiming lau-

"Lord Commander, please forgive the interruption."

--

We rushed to young Alisae's side, brought low by a foe the Scions had met before. The bearing of Alphinaud, so freshly grieving friends. I saw him as I'd seen him before, expecting Estinien's demise. Now, his own sister. I hoped that death would never touch him like this again, that Alisae would pull through with the efforts of our chirugeons' ministrations. Though we had not met before, I felt deeply for the young maiden clinging to life in the same room that had born witness to much tragedy in the months past. I felt as much for Edmont, not ready to witness more loss in his sitting room.

Aymeric POV

“So many things I had believed to be impossible, she needs not honeyed words to make me believe. She shows me.”

Our favorite Lord Commander recalls the bliss of the weeks following the Scions’ arrival in Ishgard. 

Some spoilers for post Heavensward content, cw for implied death.

 Enjoy (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

A united Eorzea. Upon first meeting, Alphinaud had promised that one day we all might look back on our discussion at Camp Dragonhead as the first steps towards a united Eorzea. I was hesitant to believe it, but perhaps that was truly what we had done that day.

When I asked that the Scions investigate the heretics as well as Lady Iceheart’s interference, they delivered. I was not able to see the battles they waged directly, but to see its’ effect. Oh, to see the impact she had on Ishgard. That they all have. The heart of our nation beat with thunderous vigor. The relief that I witnessed on the faces of the Temple Knights, knowing that they finally had a way to end the seemingly endless terror of the Dravanian Hoarde. For every life lost, there was the possibility of keeping more with us. 

The dining halls were alive with chatter, tales of her strength. An occasional remark of unprofessional nature, about the length and shine of her hair or the way the room smelled of roses once she left. Not ungentlemanly, but unbecoming. I quieted this talk while silently smiling, full glad to know that I was not the only Ishgardian who took note of these facts.

It was my intent to meet with the Eorzean leaders and to announce my intention to fully champion Ishgard’s entry into the Eorzean alliance. For every kindness they had shown us, every life still alight from their efforts, I intended to repay our debt. My guilt and shame from the sins of our fathers, failing to act at Carteneau were quelled at the banquet. To be embraced by leaders who spoke directly and passionately about their nations was as big a relief as the balmy night air of Ul’Dah. 

I scanned the room, eager for the Warrior of Light’s presence during my speech. I wished for her to see that her faith in Ishgard, in me, was not misplaced. That I desired a united Eorzea as strongly as she did, and that our continued work together would only bring it about sooner.  I had hoped I could speak in the sultana’s presence as well, making my intentions clear. That there would be no turning back, only my promise and my commitment to the realm. Alas, neither were to be found at a banquet intended for them both.

If only I had stayed longer. I couldn’t have known that the warning of attack in Ishgard was a ruse, what fate was to befall the sultana, nor the fate of the scions. To hear the tale told from Lua’s own lips, there was not much that I could have done. Some weeks afterwards on a lazy afternoon in my office, she told me of her suspicions of General Aldynn’s feelings for the sultana. I am not one for idle gossip, but my mind turned as she told me her thoughts on the matter. The roar like a wounded animal when he learned of Nanamo’s fate, the refusal to believe. That he would rush into the heat of battle to put down any who would hurt her. 

I wouldn’t tell Lua for fear of perpetuating gossip, but I felt the deepest empathy for the man. What would I have done if I had been present as the evening unfolded? Would I have lost an arm defending the Scions from Teledji’s accusations? Would I have followed her through the tunnels, given up my freedom or my life for her escape? For her future, what I believed she could do for us all? For the hope that I hadn’t given myself freedom to imagine? I didn’t know then what I was willing to do for her, but I could hazard a guess.

--

Through a great many losses, she continued to fight for us. They continued to fight for Ishgard. Her face began to soften in my presence, no longer suspicious of my intentions. Perhaps less suspicious of Ishgard as my nation became more trusting of her. 

An early morning knock came to my door at the Congregation. Lua’s arms squeezed together to hold a clinking, overstuffed basket.

“I have a delivery, a levequest”, curtly tumbling off of her lips

“I haven’t made such a request”

“Oh no, I insist, it is absolutely for you. Lucia puts in a leve for birch syrup like clockwork. Once I realized that it was for one person and not for the entirety of the Temple Knights, I had to deliver it in person. Do you really eat this much in less than a fortnight?”

Her straightforward curiosity took me aback, red spreading across my face. I attempted to sputter out a response but she spoke again,

“Oh! I apologize. I didn’t mean...I was just impressed. Anyone who works that hard deserves to treat themselves to something they love. I suppose the amount of syrup is commensurate to the amount of work!” she laughed as she set the heavy basket atop my desk.

“If that’s true, how does the Warrior of Light treat herself?”, I asked

She inhaled sharply, eyes rolling to the top of her head as she thought. Her body relaxed. I wondered if anyone asked her questions like this, if they cared enough to match her unabashed curiosity. Did anyone care for her the way she cared for Eorzea?

“Reading, playing a tune on my guitar, cooking for leves from mysterious knights” she laughed. Her face darkened slightly, “Spending time with the friends I can keep with me. There’s so little I can keep in times like this, I cherish everything I have.”

She excused herself, “a few more deliveries today”, and left me alone with her words in my mind. 

--

I’ve never been wont to trust someone known for their skills in persuasion, but her power over the hearts and minds of others is undeniable. To think, when she had brought Lady Iceheart- Ysale, back with her to Ishgard, that the Temple Knights would even consider fighting alongside her. That Estinien would consider Ysale an ally, to travel and fight alongside her. Alas, the Warrior of Light and her party have convinced us through the strength of their efforts. So many things I had believed to be impossible, she needs not honeyed words to make me believe. She shows me.

This is true of many things, from the possibility of a united Eorzea, to the truth of Ishgard’s founding. That the history we had known for ages was a lie, a foul lie to perpetuate war was unfathomable to me but it had come from her lips. The reality of it, carried on her back and unto Ishgard. Beyond the skepticism that normally binds me to reality, I believed her. She had lit a fire in my heart. That she would carry the weight of my nation’s shame, that she could be honest and bear it to me mincing no words. To trust me to follow through on the labor she and her comrades had begun. 

All of my wishes for Ishgard suddenly had a clear path, to end the war between man dragon, to sever the link between status and happiness. Anyone could have been descended from the high houses. What could become of ordinary Ishgardians once they knew that their blood was equal? Could they truly see each other as equals, from the high houses to the Brume? 

--

Another afternoon, Lord Edmont found his way into my office to sing her praises. How helpful she had been to Artoirel and Emmanellain, how keen Haurchefant was to be by her side. He confided to me that he feared Haurchefant had never been truly comfortable at Fortemps Manor, that Haurchefant believed himself seen as a bitter reminder of his father’s indiscretions. I smelled wine on his breath, confirming the reason for Lord Edmont’s sudden confessions. He recalled the nights he had spent talking with Lua late into the crackling firelight, her encouragement to speak plainly to Haurchefant, suggesting the urgency of speaking our true feelings before the time is lost.

Her advice was prescient. She couldn’t have known that Haurchefant would throw himself into the arms of certain death for her sake. Perhaps the honesty she suggested was a hard won lesson from the experience of a woman always on the edge of life and death.

Aymeric POV

"On trial at the Vault, his eyes were alight once again. As if he took joy in punishing me, a stain bleeding through from his past. A reminder of his failings, his weakness, his humanity. That he was a man with a large ego and small will, and never destined to be the god he desired to be.”

Cw for torture, death, funerals, and trauma

We had all suffered in the wake of the revelations the Warrior of Light and her party discovered. When I was collected from my office by the Heaven’s Ward to stand trial, I believed that my words could light a fire in my father’s heart akin to the flames of my own. A fool I was.

--

We had spoken once about my lineage. I had been named Lord Commander and the Archbishop performed his ceremonial duties. He betrayed no emotion, crowning one successor in a line of many. I found my way to his chambers shortly after, meekly seeking his attention.

“The Borel boy? Oh, young Lord Borel. Your father would have been proud.”

“I’m sure. Though he did not sire me himself, as you know.”

Thordan’s eyes widened, alight with full knowledge of the boy Lord and Lady Borel raised. I brimmed with questions. How could he betray his role, how could he take advantage of the trust of a student of the Holy See, who was she specifically. I looked nothing like Thordan. I must resemble her. Did it pain him to see me now, did he wish that he had chosen differently?

“That I do know, but that is a matter 30 some years put to bed.”

He shooed me away like an errant hair in his eyes. We never spoke outside of a professional context again.

--

On trial at the Vault, his eyes were alight once again. As if he took joy in punishing me, a stain bleeding through from the past. A reminder of his failings, his weakness, his humanity. That he was a man with a large ego and small will, and never destined to be the god he desired to be.

In my life, I’ve felt few moments of relief greater than the one that eve. To be alone in the gaol was a blessing. In truth, I my body shook in fear every time I heard footsteps. The knights of the Heaven’s Ward gleefully attempted to extract information from me. I- I won’t share what happened, but some wounds do not heal. I never gave them up. I believed in what Lua could do for Ishgard, for Eorzea. I believed Ysale’s intentions. I believed in Estinien. I wanted no harm to come to House Fortemps, for they were brothers and a father to me when I had no living relatives to claim me.

Once more, as footfalls tapped in the distance I steeled my body and mind. Whatever price I must pay to seal the fate of Ishgard, I would pay it. I thought of the face of the woman who accosted me shortly after I had claimed my title as Lord Commander, of her child's weak limbs clutching her body. Whatever the price, I must pay it.

Faces filled the patch of torchlight, the faces of my comrades. I nearly lost my legs, unable to believe the sight. Lucia slipped a key into the door, and I was free. My heart could scarcely believe, I hardly dared to hope that this wasn't a trick of some sort. More weakened than I thought, I leaned on her strong frame as her party rushed us to the exit laying low knights in our path. With each knight felled, I thanked the Fury for Lucia, for Hilda. For the kindness I was never owed but so gratefully received over a lifetime of friendship between us.

--

The chirugeons encouraged rest, but I couldn’t. I needed to know what became of the rest of my friends. Truly, my friends. That Lua, Alphinaud, and Tataru - now Y’shtola would suffer the coldness of my people to win their hearts only to risk life and limb for us all! To be with Haurchefant at the end, and to hear his last words. His voice clear, kind as ever. “A smile better suits a hero”. She was, truly.

Swiftly, she made to Azs Lla with her trusted companions. I rushed to House Fortemps, Harchefaunt’s body resting in the sitting room. The mirrors covered, I wondered if his soul had made it to the aetherial sea. Could he see us? Did he worry for us? The manor was empty besides Haurchefant and Lord Edmont, weeping into his boy’s chest. We prayed to the Fury, for Haurchefant’s soul. For Ishgard. Quietly, profusely, I begged Halone for her safety. For Lua to return to me, hale and whole. I questioned my ability to lose another friend that day.

--

I did lose another friend, if only for a while. Lua collapsed as she found her way out of the manacutter. She told me of Estinien, of his triumph then disappearance.

“It was over, it was over, then-” she repeated over and over through tears. Alphinaud rushed to her side to brush away the rapid spill across her cheeks. How I wished I could run to her, to share her grief. My dearest friend, lost to the abyss of the dreaded wyrm's rage. A man so committed to revenge against dragonkind that he would cast aside his family name in favor of "Wyrmblood". My dearest friend, consumed, not knowing if he could find his way back to us. How I wish I could have held Lua and Alphinaud both, if only to comfort myself.

She locked eyes with me, breathless, whispering “I’m so sorry” as many times as she could. She thought I blamed her. How I blamed myself! If I weren’t weakened from my own failure, that I had assumed I could negotiate my way out of inprisonment in the vault. That I could convice Thordan, that I could convince Ishgard, to move forward. If I had followed her to Azs Lla and faced him myself. If I had been there to bring Estinien home.

--

Haurchefant’s wake was a vast ocean of grief stifled into all the space the manor could afford it. Lord Edmont, doubled over with grief on a setee as Lua held him with her whole body as if she could see him sliding into an abyss, trying with all of her might to hold him back. I kneeled before him, offering a handkerchief. He grasped my face in his hands, pulled me into an embrace. He whispered in my ear, “My boy. My son.” I caught Lua’s eyes, and she quickly averted her gaze. 

--

As the solemn night drew to a close, I felt a dull ache in my body. From the vault, from the evening. Lord Edmont grabbed my elbow as I reached for my coat.

“One of the greatest gifts he brought me was his friends. True friends. I think of all of you as my children" Edmont muttered, more to himself than me.

"After what you’ve just gone through, Aymeric. After all Thordan has done-” He took a moment to look me up and down, as if he could see the bruises and cuts beneath my battered armor.

“You’re like a son to me. All of you, filling my home with laughter and light. All of you, my children. Protect each other. Protect them like he would have.”

His words took me by surprise. I had always seen him as a father, more so after my own had passed. More still after I learned the truth of Thordan, my sire and the cause of my grief. I nodded to him, a promise. I scanned the room and saw Lua, still resting on the setee. I approached her, breathing steady with eyes low. She had fallen asleep. I’d never noticed how long her lashes were until they were resting on her cheeks. Her face was softer than I’d ever seen it, brows furrowed as if the comfort of rest confused her. I leaned down to speak into her ear and wake her.

“I apologize, I thought you might like to retire to somewhere more comfortable. I could find a maid to take you to bed?”

“No, no.” she shot up from her resting position, rubbing her temples. Brows furrowed further. “Some of the knights came up from Dragonhead. We were supposed to meet at the Forgotten Knight.”

“I could walk you there?”

“Yeah. Yes! Let me find my coat.”

--

After searching for a coat, hunting her chambers for a guitar, and seeing Count Edmont off to bed, we made our way to the Forgotten Knight. No words between us, I thought of something I heard her whisper to herself as we laid Haurchefant’s body to rest. A whisper, private moment that I had crept my way into. I felt guilty imposing upon her, but the words reached my ears regardless and lingered with me. “All things that live must die, passing from nature into eternity.” As if she’d said it before and known it as fact, but couldn’t suppress the belief that he would walk through the doors of his home tonight. That he would return to us as if today were any other day.

A heavy silence hung in the air, unusual and unwelcome. The Warrior of Light settled in her seat beside knights and maidens. She hugged each, wiping tears away from a young woman. The maiden had been close to Haurchefant, an adventurer brave enough to traverse the barren snow covered peaks to reach him. I had always wondered about the recipient of his floral scented missives, but thought myself too polite to ask. The regret one feels when they’ve lost the time to speak their mind.

A knight stood to pour his ale out onto the floor, shouting “a drink for our friend!”

Another bellowed, “A dirge for Haurchefant”.

His voice low, joined by others, joined by the grieving recipient of thickly scented missives. Lua’s guitar reached her hands once again. I had never heard her play before. I knew the joy it brought her, now I knew the grief it might bring as well. Her voice sweetly danced against the sound of the strings, a duet of loss and hope. Of the ones we’ve lost and the ones we might yet save.

The mood lifted after the voices of the bereaved cut through the silence. Music played again in the form of another bard in the corner of the bar. Wishing to speak my thoughts now, not to lose the time forever, I asked her for a dance. “The highborn ladies tell me you’re quite the dancer. What a treat!” she laughed into my ear as she took my hand. My face warmed, I imagined how red I must look, grateful for the dim light. “I treat myself to more than birch syrup. A good song and dance are equal in my eyes.”

We couldn’t forget what brought us to the Forgotten Knight, but for a moment, we could remember that there was something after. That our lives would continue and joy would find us again, after the dust has settled.

--

“I thought you were angry at me. You’ve been so kind to me. You all have, Ishgard welcomed the Scions when the rest of the world spat in our faces. That you trusted me with such an important mission, with the life of a dear friend and I failed...” she trailed off, refusing to look me in the eye.

“Estinien is the Azure Dragoon. I believe in him. I believe that he’ll make his way home to us, I must. Trust in him as you trusted in Y’shtola to return to the Scions.” her downcast face lightened at the thought of Y’shtola, lost to the lifestream, made real once more before her.

“You are both warriors, and you did what you needs be done. I could never be angry with you for that,” I insisted, praying that I could take the weight of Estinien off of her shoulders. That I could feed the hope within her just as she had fed mine.