#She was clearly trained by Estinien | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

awkwardgtace · 10 months

Text

Meeting Your God

Day 6 AU

THIS HAS SPOILERS FOR FF14 ENDWALKER AND PATCH 6.3 (Alliance Raid 2 post story)

Ash and Delphia are scouting ahead of their current group for this series of fights, but it's for some reasons that they want to keep hidden from the others

Meeting Your God

Delphia was excited. The next god to fight was Halone. All the stories she heard while training in Ishgard would be nothing next to this. Her tail whipped behind her and her ears twitched. The Elezen from her training days would never believe the little Miqo’te is the one who got to fight Halone. The Au Ra next to her clearly didn’t share her excitement. They had a glare on their face.

“Ash, I promise this will be fine. It’s just scouting. If we can tell the others what to expect the fight will go better,” she said. Ash groaned, it was clear they disagreed.

“We have faced Nophica, Althyk, and Nymeia together with no scouting. I don’t think we should be doing this. At the very least I don’t think you should be fighting as a Dragoon,” they said. Delphia frowned; this was an argument they’d had a few times already.

“Ash I told you I have to fight Halone of the twelve as a dragoon.” She held up her lance for emphasis. It wasn’t as though she had stopped keeping her gear ready. She also trained with her guild pretty often. Sometimes even getting Estinien to spar, usually with Tataru’s help. She was ready.

“You’ve been fighting as a ninja for all of the others. Halone is the goddess of war. The fight shall be worse than any other, we should not be alone for this.”

Delphia stopped walking and stared up at the tall Au Ra. Sometimes she hated when she couldn’t stare down at them. The house they’d bought in Gridania’s lavender beds gave her a perfect perch usually. Although, they hadn’t been there since the final days were averted. It was too painful to see the home that three of them had put together.

“Ash, we’ll be fine. Rescue me if it looks like things will go wrong and we’ll run. You’re one of the best white mages out there, you’ll keep me alive. Just let’s try this fight with Halone. I can’t just be part of the crowd later,” she said. She couldn’t wait. If they did it with the others everyone would know. She would be asked to leave, G’Raha would convince her to leave. She couldn’t have that.

“Is this truly going to help?” their voice was quiet. It made her shiver, they weren’t just treating it like a strange adventure anymore. They were making her face the truth too. “I know that this-”

“Pray not now.”

She had wrapped her tail around her leg, her ears flat on her head. Ash came up and pulled her into a tight hug. Things hadn’t truly recovered for them, not yet. The final days were horrifying. So many innocent people lost, and they lost one they loved. Nothing had been the same since they watched their partner disappear.

“This won’t bring her back, Halone didn’t-”

“The twelve didn’t help! You know how many nights I begged to bring her back. To show us she was safe. They could have done something… They could have helped. I need to be here to fight them, but Halone… She looked like Halone Ash. I can’t even enter the Holy See… I need to be sure I can face her, that we’ll finish this fight against them. I can’t let them keep me from fighting.”

“We’ll fight, but we leave at the first sign it’s too much.” They pulled back, large hands cupping her face. She leaned into them. “Promise me we’ll leave, I can’t lose you too.”

“I promise. We both live after this and… and maybe we can finally go back home once we’ve faced her. Just live in the memories until the next disaster. The next foray into the world of the voidsent.”

Ash leaned forward and kissed her. It was quick, but their emotion came through like fire. She wouldn’t be able to face this painful reality without them. Thavnair was rebuilding, the entire world was rebuilding. The lopporits were trying to find their place. The final days were stopped. Everything was good, but for the two of them life had been changed in horrible ways. Ways that they were fighting to overcome.

They spent the rest of the walk to Halone holding hands. This was about more than just discovering the truth of the twelve. This was her own chance at revenge. Revenge for the years she spent promising to serve Halone, to fight under her. The nights she prayed and begged for Alessia to be safe. That the disasters had merely separated them. Ash’s grip on her hand was tight, they were thinking the same things.

The battlefield for Halone was open, much like Nophica’s. There didn’t look to be any danger of falling, that made this easier. The goddess hadn’t appeared yet, but they were ready. They could do this. Ash had brought her back from death before. They took the events of the final days so much harder. They couldn’t save someone from their own dynamis destroying them.

“Ready?” she whispered as she squeezed their hand.

With a single nod they released her. Their staff in hand they started casting the spells that would keep her safe. She held her lance forward as she stepped closer. A large woman landed in front of them. The pain was already starting. The same hair and form as the one they lost. The warm feeling of Ash’s magic faltered for only a moment.

“Nophica had warned me there would be an army to fight,” the voice was melodic. She hadn’t heard Halone talk, she didn’t expect a similar voice. The goddess had a change in posture as she focused on the two of them. Almost rigid. “Pray let the battle commence. It shall be one to remember either way.”

Delphia ran forward. The fight began and her own mind started to go numb. Halone had been a guiding light in her time training as a dragoon. She’d been disliked for her heritage. Looked down on for her small stature. Halone pushed her forward at each step. A calming thought of someone who could stand tall, someone she could look up to.

She jumped, aiming to hit that armor Halone wore on her face. She wanted to see the eyes of the goddess she had grown to hate. Hating her was almost strange. Following her brought her to Ash. The Au Ra had traveled to Gridania to train in healing magic. They wanted to see the forests the place was known for. They were why the house they bought was in the lavender beds.

Delphia bounced off when her hit landed. There was no visible crack. It would take time to build up the jump again so she went for quick stabs. Halone was moving slower than she expected. The other gods had all been constant attacks, but Halone was leaving wide openings. Delphia grew desperate to make this goddess take their fight seriously.

“All-piercing spear, drink deep of raging blizzards!”

Another set of warnings how the ice would scan the floor. Ash had to run up next to her. The safest part of this attack was the two of them together. They had tear tracks. This was hard on them too. Delphia reached up to her own face, her gauntlet came back with the frozen tears. The ice attacks were stopping her own from streaming down her cheeks. It made this easier.

“For glory you must be prepared to render your all!”

Ash ran back and Delphia jumped again. She landed a solid blow on the helm once more. It wouldn’t be impossible to keep this up. She would see Halone’s face, see the face of the goddess who failed. She could remember the day she and Ash had been traveling. When a random woman had been injured. Ash healed her while Delphia fought off the attackers.

“You must do better than that against me.” Halone’s voice sounded strange again. Almost like she was crying. Delphia would never expect that.

A massive spear attack was coming and she had to watch for the safe spot. Running to that location gave her only more time to think, to remember. The brown eyes sparkling as they talked. Night-sky hair that she spent time helping to free of blood. The laughter when the new woman had never heard of such normal things as the aesthetician. The excitement with some of it. Ash had even spoken around her quite a bit.

Delphia managed another jump, landing on the helm again. The attacks were landing easily. It didn’t seem right. There was something bigger coming. The goddess of war couldn’t be this easy to defeat. This wasn’t the fight that she wanted, it was… It was as though Halone wanted to lose against her. That wasn’t enough.

“Fight like you mean it, Halone,” she shouted. That caused a reaction from the goddess.

“There is no retreat - only victory or defeat!” Halone screamed.

A pulse of something came from the goddess’s feet. Likely a warning. Ash had stepped forward, she could see them considering a spell. They were ready to rescue her out of danger. As she reached them a ring of icicles appeared behind them. She grabbed their arm and ran to where the icicles spawned. Just as they reached safety icicles spawned where Ash had been standing. This time there was no sign of the goddess going easy.

The icicles continued to appear in a circular pattern growing closer to Halone. Ash prepared spells, the pulsing hadn’t stopped. Another circle of ice appeared, she realized then it wasn’t icicles. Lances of ice were shooting up from the ground. Apt for Halone. She took the chance to do another jump attack, the helm had cracked. This should be enough.

Memories filled her mind as she entered the air. Working as an adventuring party. Taking in anyone who wanted to aid in battle. Yet the three of them were always together. She was their damage, dragoon or ninja once she’d learned of that job. The stone spoke to her in ways the dragoon job stone never did. Then a paladin, the only paladin she and Ash would ever work with.

“Victory must be seized with one’s own hands!” Halone’s voice hadn’t moved. She took aim.

Another attack landed, but this time Ash pulled her away. The rescue spell hadn’t been needed. She could do this, she would win. They’d finally move forward, forget all the pain. Reminisce in the memories that were too painful to see. Ash grabbed her arms and held her facing Halone once the rescue had finished.

“What are you-”

“Look,” they interrupted her.

Delphia watched as the goddess who may even be bigger than the ancients stood with her head straight up. She… she was taking Delphia’s attacks on purpose? That made no sense. Those attacks could cause the helm to shatter, freeing up new spots to injure. Create better openings to defeat the goddess.

“Why…” she whispered.

Ash shook their head, but pulled her into their arms. This fight was over. Together they watched the helm split in half as Halone turned to face them again. Delphia fell to her knees. Now she could see the tears on the goddess’s face. The clear pain in her eyes. The helm fell to the ground cracking the ice at the goddess’s feet. It wasn’t… it wasn’t possible.

“Alessia?” Ash was the one to say it. Delphia shook her head. This wasn’t possible. Alessia was a miqo’te. Adorable ears that twitched all the time. A tail that wrapped around Ash’s horns when she slept. Alessia… was another warrior of light.

Halone didn’t continue the fight. She dropped her weapons, both fading away. This couldn’t be Alessia. Alessia was shorter than Delphia. Halone, the goddess who looked like their lost partner, was gigantic. Taller than even the tallest Roegadyn. This wasn’t Alessia, this was someone else. A goddess playing an awful trick on a follower who used to be devout.

Delphia climbed to her feet. Ash’s hold had already fallen away. It was the opening she needed, the opening she wanted. These battles weren’t meant to be fatal, but this time she’d end the goddess who failed her. She switched her jobstone out, all of it was prepared. She pulled out her daggers and ran forward, she’d punish the twelve for abandoning them.

“Delphia!” Ash shouted. She ignored them, rescue wouldn’t be ready yet. She used a skill to get above Halone, forced the pain in her heart down, and made a move to kill. Except… that didn’t happen.

Halone caught her waist. Two massive hands holding her like a Roegadyn held a Lalafell. She squirmed to escape. There had to be a way to get free. To continue her plan. The twelve abandoned them in the final days, they weren’t there for Bahamut. It was never their power that helped they didn’t get to take credit anymore. She’d make sure at least one was gone, even one that looked like someone she could barely live without.

The goddess moved her until she was cradled against her armored chest. She hated it. It felt like when Alessia hugged her in those last few days. The night just before they fought Zodiark. Before the final days began. Alessia hadn’t gone along on that fight. She said she’d stay back, she’d protect the others.

When they returned Ash found her first. Delphia showed up seconds later, but those precious seconds were too many. She watched Ash desperately trying to heal Alessia as that horrible black smoke took over her body. No creature appeared in the aftermath, Alessia was just gone. The dynamis destroyed the aether of her soul.

The goddess kneeled in front of Ash. She towered even over them, they just barely reached Delphia while Halone crouched. It felt almost normal. Ash near her while she was wrapped in someone else’s arms. This wasn’t Alessia though. It wasn’t their partner and she had to get away. She started to squirm, a massive hand set on her cheek stopped her.

Delphia was forced to stare into brown eyes that looked too much like the ones she lost. She couldn’t even use Ash for support. Their fingers were wrapped around the hand bigger than her head, trying to pull it away. There was no chance for this to work. She should have known better. She couldn’t kill a god, at least not if it was a real god. Something more than Zodiark or the other primals.

“I missed you,” Halone(?) said. Halone couldn’t have missed her. They had never met before. At least not outside of the times Delphia prayed for help. “I missed both of you, but I couldn’t come back.”

“Lady Halone, we have never met. Pray release Delphia. I will make sure the two of us do not continue with the fights. I beg that you forgive her. We both have yet to truly recover from the losses suffered during the final days,” Ash said. Delphia could hear the undertone of fear. That wasn’t her bigger concern.

“No!” Delphia screamed. “Our fight isn’t over! You can’t just decide it’s done!”

“Del, I don’t-”

“Don’t call her that.” Ash was angry, she didn’t even have to be upset. She was angry too though. Only Alessia used her nickname… Alessia gave it to her.

Halone finally changed how she held Delphia. The goddess set her down next to Ash who pulled her close. Together they were left staring up at a face that couldn’t exist. Brown eyes, red lips, tears still trailing down massive cheeks. Bigger than any other race in the world. One of the twelve gods and yet… A carbon copy for the women the two of them loved and lost.

“Ash, Del, it’s me. It’s Alessia,” the goddess said. Delphia had already started shaking her head. It wasn’t possible. “Pray… why would I lie? What… what would Halone have to lie to you about?”

“Ash…” Delphia whispered. Their arms around her grew tighter. A few taps on her hand where they held it. Taps that meant no. They knew what she was thinking, they both wouldn’t risk it. Hope had left them both nearly dead too many times now. Claims that people thought they saw her, belief that she had somehow escaped that awful fate.

“Pray, how can I prove I am who I claim? We bought a home in the lavender beds? You both said I was the only paladin you’d place your faith in? The private moments shared in bed after the hardest battles my loves, two warriors of light, fought?”

“Why are you doing this?” Delphia’s voice was wet with her tears. Ash had already crouched to bury their face in her hair. “Is this punishment for coming to fight you alone? For my attempt to kill you? I thought only the Ascians would be this cruel.”

The goddess’s arms surrounded them. They were pulled forward, pressed against her. Another feeling of normalcy. A feeling of home that shouldn’t exist. If Ash wasn’t holding her, still crying against her, she’d fall for it. Think this was just like before, that their lives could go back to the simple days before the final days began.

“Pray believe me. I wanted to come back, but it wasn’t possible. I had to return to my post as Halone…” the goddess said. Ash tapped her again. They believed the goddess, but it only hurt more. Alessia was Halone? The goddess that Delphia looked to for guidance so often. That she begged to bring her love back. That same person was who she wanted back.

“Why did you come to us?” Ash asked. That caught Delphia off guard. They didn’t usually speak up, but then again this was Alessia. “Why stay as long as you did?”

Alessia let them go. She backed away, standing up to her full height. Three times Ash’s height at least. Just as beautiful as when she was a Miqo’te. Somehow more gorgeous standing so tall. Able to carry both of them easily if she wanted. To take them from here, make the decisions about what happened next. Yet there were still tears dripping from those warm brown eyes.

“I fell in love,” Alessia whispered as she bent over to be closer to them. A hand bigger than her head cupped Delphia’s cheek. An identical one holding Ash. This really was her. Their Alessia. The same one who they watched disappear during the final days. She was alive.

“I don’t understand. How are you Halone? One of the twelve… Why were you left weak by the road if you’re a goddess?” Delphia started to ramble. Everything was too much. The woman she loved was alive. Both her partners were alive. The three of them were together. She wanted to kill this woman. Nothing made sense. “How did you disappear during the final days? What… why couldn’t you come back? What let you stay in the first place?”

A massive thumb wiped away her tears. Ash’s head had moved to rest on her own. Her loves, her partners, all around her. Yet nothing would let them go back. Their home in the lavender beds wasn’t right for a goddess. She’d been so cruel to Halone since Alessia disappeared. They didn’t deserve the happy ending.

“The same reason you’re here now. I have to be a part of these fights. The truth you must learn. After… after I might be able to come home.” Alessia leaned forward, her head was big enough to touch both Delphia and Ash at once. A motion that was reassuring and cruel. “I… the me you knew was something I made. I’d been drawn to both of you for a long time. When I saw your adventures I grew jealous.”

“I didn’t think one of the twelve could be jealous of the rest of us,” Ash muttered. There was mirth in their voice, the comment made Alessia laugh. Delphia was lost, by the twelve was Alessia’s laugh beautiful. Even thinking that felt wrong, swearing the beauty by the beauty itself.

“I’m different. I made that person you knew, a young Miqo’te woman who could live with you. My power had been affected by the final days. The body I’d been using was disrupted and faded away.” A sigh followed by those huge hands disappearing. They pulled Delphia and Ash into a hug again. Alessia’s lips by her ears. “It seemed like the feelings I had were the power behind that creation. I couldn’t be her anymore though. I wanted to see you as myself. I had… I had no way of knowing this would even be possible.”

“What next then?” Delphia pushed back, Ash moved with her. They weren’t letting her go. It seemed they were worried she’d collapse. She probably would without their support. “You’re Halone of the twelve. We’re just… we’re just people that others call warriors of light. Is it all over?”

“No.” Alessia’s voice was loud. Similar to her quips during their battle. “Tomorrow, I fight as I’m expected to. I follow my role until it’s done. Then, once this is all over, I’ll come home. I’ll find a way to be with you both again. Not as Halone, not as the Miqo’te woman who had been lost and confused, but as myself. Alessia, a paladin who aids two warriors of light as they save the world time and again.”

“If you can’t come back?” Ash asked. Their weight against Delphia grew, they were worried too. That this dream would turn to a nightmare.

“I’ve spoken with Menphina and Nymeia, you two are my loves and my fate.” Alessia lifted them both up, holding them tightly to her chest. “I will be back once this is settled. Once this business I am needed for is over. I can return then. We can go home and be happy. I make no promises I will be a Miqo’te again, I find I like being able to hold you both like this.”

Alessia laughed again. It caused both her and Ash to laugh along. Alessia was alive. Their grief could be over. Ash even loosened their hold, but that reminded Delphia of one thing. She slid from their grasp and reached a hand up to Alessia. The giant woman crouched until her cheek met Delphia’s small hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Brilliant brown eyes were shining in front of her. Ash had followed her, their hand pressed on Alessia’s other cheek. “You heard my prayers and curses didn’t you?”

“I… Try as I did I could not avoid them.” Alessia’s voice was a whisper. Ash moved closer, pressing their forehead into her cheek. “I tried not to listen closely, I did not deserve to hear your words.”

“I’m so sorry. The things I’ve said… Pray, let me prove to you I had never meant to hurt you. Once we’re home I shall show you the truth of my feelings.”

“Alessia, I apologize as well. I have made my own cruel prayers.” Delphia jumped hearing Ash say that. They had tried to convince her not to blame Halone and yet they also blamed her. “You did not deserve the anger or pain from our hearts blasting your own ears.”

Tears rolled down the goddess’s face. Flashes of pain and relief in her eyes. Their words must have been akin to swords stabbing through her hundreds of times.

The remainder of the time was spent in silence together. Alessia had eventually shifted to hold them both. Her armor had been taken off and it was like the night before Zodiark. Before their lives changed. It was unbelievable to have her back. Unfortunately they had to leave. Sneaking back to camp where everyone would prepare for the fight the next day.

The trip to the battle was faster with their group. Everyone was anxious to fight the goddess of war. Delphia and Ash were towards the back this time. The fight would be exciting, Alessia promised a true challenge this time. There was a moment when the group reached the battlefield that Delphia worried the night before was a dream. Except she could see the mark on the helm where she’d cracked it. Everyone took their places, Ash squeezed her hand as she went to her spot. Alessia as Halone smiled, Delphia knew it was at them.

“I, the Fury, shall test your strength of spirit.”

14 notes · View notes

theshotsheardacrossworlds · 23 days

Text

Retainer

Estinien asks one of his wife's retainers how he came to be employed by her. SFW.

“So,” Estinien began, arms crossed over his chest. “How did you come to be one of Agi’s retainers?” Agi’s grabbing him some brownies to bring home. Too sweet my wife is.

N’zarah thought for a moment and then smiled. “Many years ago, my wife and I brought our daughter N’thyra to the Conjurers Guild when she became deathly ill. We were told the Elementals refused to have her healed, but a trainee came to us as we were leaving Gridania. ‘If you bring your daughter just over the border from the South Shroud into Eastern Thanalan, I will heal her.’” His gaze caught Estinien’s, still smiling. “It was Agnes, of course. Barely eleven or twelve years old and defying the will of her guild…of the Elementals. My daughter lives because of her. Years later, when I saw the advertisement saying she was looking for retainers, I was the first to apply. How could I not?” Gods, he’s still smiling. “I can never repay her for what she did for us.”

How many times have I heard that? How many times have people across the world say they are indebted to her? Oh Agi… He chuckled. “Aye, that sounds like her.”

“She was a sweet girl---tall for her age, red pigtails,” Oh fuck me, of course she had pigtails. “Purple glasses, and stubborn.”

“Who’s stubborn?” Agnes giggled, returning with a large tray of brownies. She handed them to N’zarah with a warm smile.

Estinien rolled his eyes. “You, madam.”

“Thank you, Agnes. I was telling your husband about how you saved N’thyra.” He winked at the hyur. “And how even as a young conjurer you had a mind and will of your own.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she laughed, shaking her head. “It was the right thing to do.” You always make it sound so simple. “I’ll just tell the Elementals to take a hike and heal this child they condemned. No worries!” Agi, you bloody mad woman, I love you. “Besides, I did the same thing many times after and never got in trouble with the Guild.” I see that smirk, Madame Varlineau. Her brow then furrowed. “As for the Elementals, I suspect Hydaelyn may have had a role in them still allowing me to borrow their power for healing. Can’t say no to her future champion, could they?” She shook head. “Anyways, I hope you and the family enjoy the brownies, N’zarah. Until next time.”

He bowed his head to her. “Until next time, Agnes. Be well.”

After he left, Estinien pulled her into a hug. “Hmph, good to know your streak of being far too helpful began early.” He teased, a large, scarred hand reaching for her substantial backside. Just a little squeeze…for now.

“Hush, you naughty man.” For a few moments, she rested her head against his chest and held him as tightly as he held her. “When I began my training, Brother E-Sumi told me the hardest lesson I must learn is that I can’t save everyone…but that doesn’t mean I won’t try. I’ll never stop trying.” Agnes then giggled. “So I suppose…yes, I am stubborn in that way.”

“I wouldn’t have you any other way, my angel.” He murmured softly. That stubbornness saved me, after all. I remember it clearly. Agi pulling at the Eye as hard as she could. “You’re not dying today. You’re not fucking dying today.” She knew she was going to save me no matter what…just like with N’zarah’s daughter I bet. That’s my Agi.

#agnes currai #estinien varlineau #estinien wyrmblood #wolstinien #estinien x wol #agnes varlineau #these two dorks #hyur highlander #hyur wol #plus size warrior of light #plus size wol #n'zarah #agi “never stops trying” currai varlineau #estinien isn't expecting this answer but he is not at all surprised #the kids are napping

3 notes · View notes

regulationbluebunny · 7 months

Text

FFXIV write 2023: Suit

Summary: Aymeric fishes for information about Estinien's love life.

Gen/ no cws

"The people have been generous with their donations," Aymeric noted.

A box spilled over with folded linens in all manner of bright colors. It was stacked atop a wooden chest that contained more of the same. The donations were so numerous to spill in almost out of the doorway: dried fruits in tins, picked eggs, sacks of rice, and grain were piled atop each other in crates. Estinien stitched a bright green patch into a vest clearly meant for a toddler as Aymeric sifted through the fabrics.

"They have," he agreed. "More than necessary, really. We don't have that many to feed."

"I'm sure it can be shared back with the community if you find yourself with excess," Aymeric pointed out.

"Aye. We're working on that. Vytra is trying to find someone to manage that sort of thing."

"I'm surprised he didn't ask you."

"Oh, he did," Estinien admitted, "I'm not suited for that kind of work."

"I can't see you managing an inventory," Aymeric laughed. "You are very good with the children, though."

Estinien just grunted in response.

"I might suggest a similar infrastructure for Ishgard," he continued. "There are plenty of war orphans even now. I doubt the people would be quite as generous, however."

"Bloody nobility's purses are clipped tighter than a--" his comparison trailed off as an auri child skipped tgrough the room with her little brother. "Than a, um. No. You're better off making it a tax."

"And that would be taken with such understanding," Aymeric said dryly.

"Don't bother with their understanding. You've got the loyalty of everyone that matters. Use it."

Aymeric hummed. "The repercussions of heavy handed policy might come back to bite me, but my options are becoming limited, I fear."

"When are you going back?"

"I'm uncertain. She takes first priority, as you understand. Artoirel and Lucia can handle things in my absence."

Estinien nodded. She took first priority for both of them. Ishgard could hold itself together without their Lord Speaker constantly at their beck and call. Letters would serve just fine.

"And you?" Aymeric continued, running a hand along the seam of an orange skirt to check the hem line.

"What? "

"After the Warrior recovers. What will you do?"

"I don't know. There's little point in me being anywhere else. I'll stay as long as they need me, I suppose."

Aymeric nodded. He glanced up at Estinien with a shrewd look in his blue eyes.

"They?"

Estinien pursed his lips. Aymeric was fishing for something. He didn't know what it was, but he didn't like it.

"Vrtra has me training the Radiant Host," he said. "There's more green soldiers than anything else after the losses they took during the Final Days."

"I'm surprised the Scions haven't put you back to work."

Estinien snorted. "The Scions can make do without me."

"You could train the Ishgardian troops as well if you find yourself short on employment," Aymeric said, and Estinien knew he wasn't actually offering, thank the gods. No, he was trying to bait Estinien into admitting that he preferred Rads at Han.

"I'd rather not," he growled.

"Of course," his friend said genially. "Priorities. I understand."

Estinien stared blankly. It felt like he was losing a game he didn't know he was playing.

"What the hell are you getting at?" He asked

His face had taken on some color. Aymeric was insinuating something and he didn't know what it was.

Aymeric shrugged. "The children, of course," he said, as if he hadn't just mentioned an equal number of wayward orphans in Ishgard. "I intend no judgement. The environment here rather suits you. Vrtra is lucky to have you at his side."

"You aren't subtle," Estinien said. "What are you hoping to unearth with this kind of talk?"

The other man raised his hands in surrender. "Nothing beyond your interests, old friend. I shan't say another word."

Estinien doubted very much that Aymeric would let it be. He would have to stay on his guard.

"I'm sure you will," he said doubtfully.

Aymeric just smiled.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv #dee writes

4 notes · View notes

dawnslight-aegis · 7 months

Text

20. hamper

Aymeric glared down at the reports on his desk – a summary of House Dzemael’s recent activities.

“You could just kill them. Or I could. Honestly, you’d probably be doing Ishgard a favor.”

Though a dark corner of his mind agreed with Marzanna’s assessment, he knew better than to admit that aloud to the impulsive xaela. “I suspect politically-motivated murder might hamper my efforts to eliminate the corruption in Ishgard’s noble houses, but I will keep your suggestion in mind,” he answered dryly.

Her small nose wrinkled in disappointment as she propped her chin on hand, staring at him from across his desk.

Stifling a sigh, Aymeric set aside his work and gave her his full attention. “Not that I am not pleased to see you, Marzanna, it is always a joy, but is there a particular reason you seem to have taken up residence in my office today?”

“I need a reason to come visit my second favorite elezen? Wait, no. Fourth? Maybe tied for third, depending on how annoying Alphi’s been lately. Anyway. Kaede borrowed Estinien for…something, and I was bored. Thought I’d skewer two fish with one spear, so to speak. Have you had lunch?”

Aymeric fought to follow the expressive auri woman’s heavily accented, disconnected train of thought, caught off guard enough that he did not even think to deflect. “I – no. I haven’t.”

She leaned in over his desk, eyes sparkling cheerfully. “Does your cook still make those pastry things with the almond cream?”

A small smile curled his mouth, almost despite himself, as he saw the direction the conversation was heading. “She does, yes. Have you had lunch, Marzanna?”

“I haven’t, and it’s so polite of you to invite me.” She pushed herself to her feet in a burst of barely leashed energy, clearly pleased with herself as Aymeric stood to join her.

He had learned the hard way that both Warriors of Light were impossibly stubborn in their own ways – and while his wife could occasionally be reasoned with, her partner was much less likely to accept any arguments based on duty or obligation. Marzanna Kimbatuul kept her tongue as sharp as her axe, and he had no particular desire to feel the sting of either of them today.

So he merely waved a hand towards the door and nodded. “After you, my friend.”

#it never fails that 10 minutes after I publicly complain about not having any inspiration I think of something silly #anyway have some extremely rare marz+aymeric content #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite 2023 #tales from the dusk

3 notes · View notes

paintedscales · 8 months

Note

First kiss asks: On a mission :)

Hiya, Umbral! Sorry it took me a long time to get to this. I actually...really got into writing whatever it was I was writing for this and...ended up with something so much longer than I anticipated. So...for this ask specifically, I'm only providing a snippet. If you want to read the whole part, here's the link. :')

In the meantime!

Word Count: 1,635

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I trust you overheard?” Nomin asked once the door had been closed behind her and the privacy curtains drawn.

“Aye…” was Estinien’s simple response.

"Good…I wasn't sure I kept the communication open." Nomin then spoke less directly to Estinien. "That means the Coalition heard everything as well, yes? Are we moving forward with an extension of assignment?"

"We'll put in a request for funds at the next stop in Gridania. Pending on what happens, accompany Cirina as long as it takes to ensure her safety to Othard. We cannot afford hostilities between the people of the Steppe and the greater part of Aldenard as a whole." Aymeric’s voice came through clear on the other end of the communication link. "Will the two of you be fine with the prolonged arrangement?"

"... I mean…we're engaged, so I suppose we have to be…" Nomin replied, not really thinking about how that sounded to someone who was not aware of the impromptu arrangement that had been thought up on the spot..

Silence hung thick between everyone for a long moment.

“... I beg your pardon?” Aymeric sounded incredibly bemused by the reveal. “You’re what?”

“Listen not to her jests, Aymeric.” Estinien’s tone was almost annoyed, and his brow was set in a furrow. “‘Tis only a cover we have created to play the part of being on this damned train in the first class without credentials for being part of a business. Though I suppose she does raise a good point. If we are playing the role of a soon-to-be-married couple, it would behoove us to remain together -- as insufferable as she can be.”

“He loves me~” Nomin cooed, earning a frown from him.

Lucia was heard clearing her throat. “As glad as I am to hear you having a good time, this assignment is not a vacation. Remember that the peace between the Eorzean Alliance and the Steppe -- perhaps even the whole Eastern Triumvirate -- may very well be at stake should anything happen to Cirina.”

Nomin’s expression and tone fell to seriousness at Lucia’s words. “Yes, you’re right. Apologies. We’ll do everything in our power to keep her safe and protected while maintaining our roles and keeping the Coalition quiet.”

“Good. Let us know when you’ve arrived in Gridania proper. Should be a couple bells at this point.”

“Will do. Closing communications for now.” And with that, Nomin had tapped her linkpearl, hearing the faint chime of the pearl’s connection being halted. Her attention turned to Estinien, who seemed to have been staring at her, that semi-annoyed expression still evident on his face. In response, Nomin could only place her hands on her hips as she stared at him.

“Cast your gaze elsewhere,” Estinien sighed, turning away from Nomin. He brought a hand up, pinching the bridge of his nose momentarily. He clearly regretted being the one to instigate their sudden cover of being an engaged couple.

“Oh, but dearest…I just love gazing upon you~” Nomin teased. She then went over and sat down next to Estinien. She sighed softly, thinking about how the two of them would certainly make a poor couple when others that were in committed relationships would witness them.

Her lips parted, a suggestion coming to mind. However, hesitance made the words stay lodged in her throat. Nomin was very well nervous about making such a suggestion for the two of them. She could feel the heat of a flustered blush spreading quickly up her neck and across her cheeks. Hells, the heat was even on her forehead and nose.

“Out with it.” Estinien had taken notice.

Nomin took in a breath.

“Kiss me.”

“What!?” For once in Nomin’s life, she saw utter shock and bewilderment on Estinien’s face -- even if it was underneath the guise of a glamour, she could see him for who he was past it. It would have been funny were it not for the fact that Nomin felt her heart picking up its pace within her chest. It thumped so noticeably, and she could hear the beating in her ears.

“W-We’re gonna be an engaged couple in this assignment thanks to you! Kiss me! Like you mean it! Might as well get used to it since this assignment may very well be a moon or two in length!” Nomin blurted out. Her miqo’te ears had done a good job at being expressive, because she could see them flattened against her head as a sign of embarrassment in the reflection of a polished copper pipe that ran up along the wall.

Just as Nomin was sure she was red as a rolanberry, she saw color flooding into Estinien’s face as well. Though she was not too sure if he was flustered and embarrassed, or annoyed on the verge of being upset with her. Either one was easy enough to believe to be true.

Eventually, however, he had let out a sharp scoff before removing the pin from his jacket and allowing his form to shimmer back into his true appearance. Likewise, he had grabbed Nomin’s hand and slid the ring off her finger, making her own form shimmer back to being the midnight au ra that she was.

“What are you--”

“Quiet. ‘Tis easier to know your horns are there versus being accidentally stabbed by them,” Estinien said. He pocketed both glamour accessories before looking into Nomin’s eyes. They were both unconcealed now, able to stare directly into each others’ eyes and truly see one another. No guises, no deception…just them.

Estinien leaned in, placing a hand against the side of Nomin’s neck. His warmth was intoxicating to Nomin, if only because the chill of Coerthas had often left her wanting. But then the gentleness with which he laid his lips upon her own gave rise to emotions previously felt that day. Though the kiss had started off stiff and somewhat emotionless, when Nomin pressed forward and reciprocated was when Estinien shifted and pulled her into him.

Closing her eyes, Nomin felt…lost to the sensations and the warmth. It was surprising how right the moment felt between them. The kiss between them felt right enough to be…well, frightening. Yet, instead of pulling away, Nomin lifted her own hand and placed it against Estinien’s cheek, ensuring that it was there so that she knew whether or not her horns were about to poke into him or not.

‘This is an act. That’s all it is. It must be convincing…’ Nomin’s rational thoughts clawed and grasped their way to the surface.

Nomin finally pulled away and looked down between them. She rested her hands against Estinien’s collar, not exactly wanting to look him in the eye after that. Were she still glamoured, she could have perhaps managed it -- using a different appearance always gave her a little more confidence, after all. Even if just a bit pending on the situation.

Instead, Nomin just felt the heat upon her face, the fire that consumed it. She heard the thrumming of her heartbeat -- hells, she even felt it as it coursed through her veins. She was so painfully aware of the situation. What she hated most is that she wanted more. Nomin wanted to kiss Estinien again. For now, though, she had to savor his arms still yet wrapped around her.

“Um… Great! Yes, great…” Nomin managed, trying to use her words to cut what she felt was awkward tension between them now. Swallowing, she pushed herself away from Estinien, getting up and going to the window. Pushing the curtain out of the way, she gazed out at the snowy landscape that the train was still chugging through. “More like that, and we can certainly pass as a devoted couple.”

“You are going to need more than a convincing kiss to fool people. But I assumed you already knew that, draped upon me the way you were in the dining car.” Estinien took the glamours from his pocket and handed the ring back to Nomin before pinning his accessory back onto his jacket.

“Showing physical affection like that is far easier than…” Nomin stopped herself, taking in a breath and sighing as she toyed with the ring between her fingers instead of putting it back on. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

The quiet shared between them after Nomin admitted that felt like a cloying miasma to her. She was just so acutely aware of herself and the sensations -- both good and bad -- that ran from her head to the tips of her toes.

“You were not terrible,” Estinien finally replied with a shrug. His form had returned to the dusty-haired elezen with straighter ears. “Certainly could have been worse. Though I find it hard to believe you had yet to kiss someone with your role in the Coalition.”

“Never really played the part of someone’s spouse or loved one… Till you came out and improvised it. Where did it come from and why?”

“As I told Aymeric, it seemed the most suited relationship to have. Our identification and papers do not present us as business partners nor owners. All we have are the false identifications, and each other,” Estinien said.

Nomin returned the curtain to being closed before sitting down on the side opposite Estinien. She tapped her fingers on the seat cushion.

“Right. Well…is your offer still on the table for me to get some rest? I think I need to process this through a nap…” Nomin was in the process of putting her ring back on when she asked her question. By the time she had finished her sentence, she was back to being that violet-haired miqo’te she boarded the train as. And so there they were once more as Ruyah and Aurrex.

“By all means. Rest. I can take care of watching over the Steppe diplomat and the car in the meantime.”

#questions and answers #open for asks ♥#user: umbralaether #thank you ♥#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #estinien varlineau #cinnamon ship #writing snippet

1 note · View note

deadlytrio · 2 years

Text

FFXIVWrite2022 | 03: Temper

"The Twelve be damned, Estinien Wyrmblood!" snapped Vairuit while angrily shoving a tree branch out of her face. Sweat fell from her brow as she glared at the Azure Dragoon whose face was also perspiring from the sweltering heat of the Dravanian Forests.

The shrill cry of a menacing creature was below them, the snapping jaws and croaking warbles reaching their ears. Her eyes shifted down to see the glaring, feral gazes of the wyverns beneath them. They were hovering around by the trunk, jumping every once in a while in hopes of reaching the Dragoons. Alaimbert sat beside Vairuit, clutching onto the tree branch beneath him and the Seeker gripped tightly onto his shoulder to further ensure that he didn't plummet down to the carnivorous creatures below them.

Estinien gave Vairuit the obvious "What" expression before the Miqo’te let out a growl. "Don't give me that look. We're in this shit because of you, Estinien!" Another roar and snap issued below and she let her eyes fall down to peer at the wyrms who, thankfully, had their wings injured badly enough by the trio so they were unable to take flight. A bit of the bark from the tree fell down toward them. "I can't even believe you talked The Lord Commander into this!"

~ TWO WEEKS AGO ~

Vairuit dropped the documents in her hands and they tumbled to the floor. Her mouth was slightly parted, but her eyes were probably expressing everything she was feeling at that moment. Beside her, Haurchefant nearly dropped his own papers but caught them at the last second just moments after Vairuit’s paperwork was strewn across the floor. The two looked at each other, then back to Aymeric, their expressions clearly questioning the Lord Commander’s sanity in regards to the statement that had just been issued from his lips.

The Miqo’te swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "Y-You can't be serious, Sir." Looking back at Haurchefant, she watched the Temple Knight nodding his head in agreement. Her gaze shifted back to Aymeric. "Please tell me you're joking."

Aymeric smirked, running a hand against the back of his neck as he massaged the place where the curve of his shoulders met. "I am not joking, I’m afraid," he said, flipping through papers and signing his name here and there, stamping his seal on the bottom and placing them in the outgoing basket. "Estinien’s birthday is tomorrow and I've already gotten everything planned, paid, and ready for the excursion."

Vairuit bent down to gather up her discarded files and made sure that there wasn't any dirt on them. He sighed. "Well, that's all well and good, but who's going to take care of his sections for patrol while he's gone? I'm not and I won't let Lord Haurchefant do it. We have too much work to do and we're already behind a week's worth of training now that we’ve acquired upgrades to the armory."

The handsome Elezen clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "I understand your concerns, Azure Dragoon.” She frowned, upset that she was even sharing that title with Estinien when he was the current source of anxiety circulating within the room. “That's what the heads and seconds are for. And don't worry about being behind on your work either." He looked from both Haurchefant and Vairuit, quirking a brow over his blue eyes. "Alaimbert and Vairuit will be accompanying Estinien to the excursion location to make sure nothing happens to him."

Vairuit dropped her documents all over the floor again. "...you have got to be kidding me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vairuit punched Estinien on the shoulder - hard.

"And now we're in bloody Dragon territory because of your ass! You couldn't ask for a normal party at the Forgotten Knight, could you? No. You had to ask to be sent to a damn site teeming with wyrms and Elder Dragons! We've been out here two weeks - lost our packs because of that stunt you pulled by the airship - and now what should have just been a three day excursion is us running for our lives!"

The wyrms continued to snarl and snap beneath them, waiting for the moment that the three Dragoons would fall to their death and feed the hungry beasts below them. If this kept up, Nidhogg himself was bound to show up next.

If they ever managed to survive this ordeal, she was going to kill Estinien.

#FFxivWrite2022 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv writing challenge #ffxiv vairuit mao #ffxiv mao #ffxiv rp #ffxiv rp vairuit mao #ffxiv roleplay #estinien #estinien wyrmblood #estinien varlineau #aymeric de borel #haurchefant greystone

7 notes · View notes

laeorinel · 7 months

Text

FFXIV Write 2023 - Day 29 - Contravention

Today was a real struggle to get this done, but it's done. If I find time in the future I may rewrite this because I'm really not happy with it.

Major spoilers for early Endwalker, since I have a few friends who sitll haven't got to this point.

Thancred sighed with relief as he saw a certain Au ra off in the distance. The last few hours had been frantic, all of the Scions scattering to try and find their wayward warrior. As the hours ticked by and with little to show for their search, it had become harder not to begin to consider the worst-case scenario. He held himself back from charging off to meet her; G'raha Tia and Alisaie could have that honour. He would like to say it was because he wanted to protect the outward look of stoicism and professionalism, but in truth, the feeling of relief had lurched violently towards foreboding.

It all felt wrong. For her to disappear in the blink of an eye, dragged away to Gods knows where by their enemies and then walk back into camp no more than a few hours later with no injuries or looking any worse for wear? All of his training and experience said this was too easy, too convenient; this had to be some enemy ploy and not fate looking kindly on them for once. Every instinct he had was screaming at him. He could not place what caused it exactly, but something about her visage in the distance filled him with dread. And he was not alone in that feeling. With the exception of G'raha tia and Alisaie, the rest of the Scions had not moved an ilm.

"And so our wayward hero returns, and without injury." While Alphinaud sounded relieved, the way he spoke did little to hide his suspicion.

"So that is indeed our friend?" Y'shtola muttered, a hand reaching out towards Urianger to steady herself. For once, she was genuinely blind, her aether sight availing her little in this frigid hellscape.

"Is her visage not reflected in thine eyes?"

"Their aether is…different. Clouded and murky. I can scarce tell the difference between their aether and the surrounding environs."

Thancred and Estinien shared a look before glancing back towards Samara. The two people who knew her best placed her under scrutiny. The feeling of dread settled in Thancred's stomach the more he noticed what was wrong. The way she walked, her mannerisms, the lack of expression on her face as she saw two of her friends approaching and the lack of a visible weapon. None of it added up.

"It's not her." Estinien growled, taking up his spear and setting off towards 'Samara' at full sprint, not waiting to see if anyone else followed or answering any questions.

"G'raha! Alisaie! Get away from them!" Thancred roared as he charged off after Estinien. As he got closer, he saw the twisted grin on the imposter's face, warping the features of the woman he loved. His stomach dropped as he saw a flash of red, a large scythe materialising in the imposter's grasp, the first swing of the wicked sharp blade coming perilously close to catching Alisaie across her chest. They would not be fast enough to stop the second swing. Fate, however, had a different agenda as a sword soared through the air, the point aimed at the imposter's head, forcing them back a few steps away from Alisaie, the edge of the blade catching on skin and scale. It gave them enough time to regroup, each of the Scions readying themselves for a fight, except the imposter's attention was more on the Garlean soldier half crawling towards them.

The bloodied and broken Garlean soldier crawled forward, little more than a walking corpse. It was a miracle he was even standing, much less attempting to fight. Blood seeped from gaps in his armour, open wounds on full display, splintered bones breaking through skin and cloth with limbs twisting in abnormal directions. Nothing but sheer willpower, hate and stubbornness were fueling him now. Laboured breaths broke up their words; every word said clearly a struggle.

"Ze…nos…get…away…"

"Impressive. I did not expect you to arrive so soon."

Thancred's skin crawled as he heard the imposter speak. It was Samara's voice, but the pitch and tone were all wrong.

"You have discarded your weapon. What exactly do you intend to do? Your friends will not strike you down; how do you intend to stop me?"

The soldier reached for something on their belt, a standard issue pistol given to every Garlean soldier. The sickening crunch of bone filled the air as the soldier pointed it to their head.

"I die…you never…get your…battle…your…choice…"

"You expect me to believe you would end it here and now? To leave this world in a flash of gunpowder rather than steel? To leave your mission unfinished just to save them?"

Her answer was to squeeze the trigger. The soldier finally fell to the ground, dead once and for all. The Scions all stood there in stunned silence. They barely noticed the flash of red coming from Samara's body, but none missed the taunting voice of Fandaniel.

"Not to worry, your hero is alive. Returned safe and sound to her body. Thank her for me, will you? Her antics have been most entertaining." said the Ascian as he floated in the air next to Zenos's nightmarish form.

"Monster! How can you not baulk at this contravention of nature?!" Alisaie screamed, already mid cast as aetheric blades formed around her.

"Oh my dear, if only you knew…this entire world is a contravention of nature." muttered Fandaniel as he and Zenos disappeared through a portal before the blades could connect.

#ffxiv fanfiction #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv write 2023

1 note · View note

grimxswathe · 3 years

Text

I come bearing quite belated Moonfire Faire fluff with Estinien and Katsu! Special tanks to Sten and Siren on Twitter for letting me borrow their character briefly and coming up with a pet name, respectively.

The word count is 1,378 and starts under the cut. Beware of mild spoilers in the first paragraph for the second part of Death Unto Dawn.

I’m gonna tag @snow-covered-moon, since she likes these two. (If anyone wants to be tagged for writing, pls let me know.)

It was the final night of the Moonfire Faire in Costa del Sol. Estinien was relaxing on the water’s edge with Katsu nestled into his side, his arm draped around her waist. The water had become a little chilly for his liking once the sun set, but he wasn’t about to deprive Katsu of this time with him. Ever since the battle against the Telophoroi at Carteneau, things had become quite tumultuous and something had been bothering him as of late. Between the twins now sharing their Ishgardian home and assisting the Scions with the occasional mission, it seemed like Katsu couldn’t make time for him anymore. It was making him worried that she, for some unbeknownst reason, was no longer happy with their relationship.

Despite the anxiety gnawing at his insides, he couldn’t take his eyes off Katsu. She was so tiny, especially compared to his broad frame, and looked far too delicate to carry the weight of two separate worlds on her shoulders. All the same, Estinien knew full well that looks were deceiving. At the moment however, tucked safely into his side, she looked surprisingly vulnerable. He absently started tracing his calloused fingertips in circles against her hip, causing her to sigh happily and snuggle against him. Estinien’s heart melted at her response and he gave her an affectionate squeeze. Halone be praised, he loved this woman. Which was why he had to voice his concerns forthwith.

“Something’s been weighing on my mind recently,” he said.

Katsu rested her chin against his chest and gazed up at him. “What is it? Is aught amiss?”

As soon as he noticed the way she was looking at him, Estinien’s train of thought fizzled away. She was looking at him like he meant infinitely more to her than the sun and moon. She was looking at him like he was worth more to her than those damned plushies she loved so much. Like he was worth it. The sheer amount of love on her face was overwhelming and Estinien felt tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t help but wonder if she had been looking at him like this all along and his insecurities had prevented him from noticing.

Katsu’s loving expression turned to one of alarm when she saw the tears rolling down Estinien’s cheeks, but he wrapped her tightly in his arms and held her close to him. He buried his nose into her hair and inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent.

“I’m okay,” he assured her. “It’s just...gods, I love you. So much.”

Estinien felt Katsu freeze in his arms and for good reason. He had only ever uttered those words before when he was reciprocating her sentiments. After allowing a moment for the weight of his words to settle, she acknowledged him in a small voice.

“Can you say it again?”

“As often as you’d like to hear it, my dear,” Estinien breathed. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Even though he’d heard those three little words countless times from Katsu, this time they caused Estinien’s tears to fall harder.

“Oh, Estinien,” Katsu mumbled, wrapping her arms protectively around his torso. “What is all of this about?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he choked out through his tears. And it didn’t.

Being careful not to break from his embrace, Katsu maneuvered into Estinien’s lap and started to gently kiss his tears away. Once she was sure she had gotten them all, she touched her forehead to his and cupped his face in her hands.

“My handsome dragoon,” she told him.

A stupid, lovestricken grin spread across Estinien’s face and he placed a tiny kiss to her nose. “And you’re my beautiful moon flower,” he told her.

Katsu’s eyes widened slightly at the new nickname and she hastily buried her face into Estinien’s chest, no doubt trying to hide her blush. A soft chuckle rumbled in his throat and he leaned down to gently kiss her hair. She pressed a tender kiss in response to the deep scar that had once been his left nipple, causing a shiver to go down his spine that had nothing to do with the crisp water.

“Careful, lest you want to miss the fireworks.”

Katsu giggled lightly. “Nay, we wouldn’t want that. They are belike to start any minute, afterall.”

As if on cue, a firework exploded in the night sky, prompting the couple to turn their attention upwards. Katsu reclined her head against Estinien’s collarbone so she could watch the fireworks comfortably.

“I’ve always loved fireworks,” she told him. “They’re so colorful and pretty.”

Estinien hummed quietly in acknowledgement and rested his chin on her head. While pretty and colorful things weren’t exactly his cup of tea, he couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing Katsu by telling her that. He knew how badly she had been wanting to watch the festival fireworks with him. Besides, they were clearly making Katsu happy and that was enough for him. When he didn’t respond after a minute or two, she frowned the slightest bit before realization crossed her features and she reached up to gently run her fingertips against one of his pointed ears.

“They aren’t hurting your ears, are they? I forgot your kind has sensitive hearing.”

Even though he found her concern touching, Estinien grunted as he softly batted her hand away. “Please. I’ve heard many a dragon’s roar in the past. I think I can handle a few fireworks. Besides,” he brushed his knuckles against the curve of Katsu’s horn, “I’m more concerned about you. Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t your horns use vibrations to hear? These sharp noises can’t be pleasant.”

Katsu looked surprised for a brief moment, but she then grinned broadly. “You’re such a sweetheart.”

Estinien felt his cheeks flush deeply. “Oh, shush,” he grumbled.

“You’ll have to-mmpf!”

Katsu’s retort dissolved into a muffled sound of surprise when Estinien pressed their lips together. He took a moment to savor the kiss before addressing her, their lips still touching.

“You were saying?”

“Mmm, I can’t say I was quite expecting that,” she mumbled, pausing to lightly kiss his lips, “but I shan’t complain.”

Estinien’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Good,” he muttered before placing another small kiss on her lips.

Katsu grinned against his lips and gave him one last kiss. She then pulled back slightly and twirled some strands of his hair around her finger that had worked themselves free of the loose bun he had tied it in that morning.

“You’re absolutely right and certes, the vibrations they cause are irritating. But, it’s completely worth it to be able to share them with you.”

Estinien smiled at Katsu softly and gently moved her off his lap, disregarding her puzzled expression. He then repositioned himself so he was laying on his back with his head across her thighs and folded his hands on his stomach.

“Mayhap we should watch some fireworks, then,” he told her.

“Aye, you’re right,” she said quietly.

The disappointment in Katsu’s voice was palpable, which caused Estinien to frown quizzically. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just a shame that we have to leave tomorrow,” she told him glumly.

Her statement triggered Estinien’s recollection of some advice G’raha had given him prior to the faire’s commencement.

“If I may offer some advice, don’t rush back here as soon as the festival is done. You needn’t worry about the twins. Sten and I can keep an eye on them, though we both know they really don’t need it. But, you really need this time with Katsu.”

“If you’d like,” Estinien said uncertainly, fidgeting his thumbs, “we can certainly stay in Costa del Sol a while longer.”

The way Katsu’s expression completely lit up at his suggestion was a sight far more captivating to Estinien than any firework and it made him feel incredibly stupid for ever doubting that she loved him.

“I’d like that very much,” she gushed.

“As would I, my dear,” Estinien told her. “I love you.”

Katsu positively beamed down at him, tracing her fingertips against his lips. “I love you, too.”

Estinien lightly kissed her fingers before nodding toward the sky. “We’d best dispense with the chatter for now. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re missing the fireworks.”

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #wol x estinien #estinien wyrmblood #katsu ishiku #txt.post #my writing #this ended up being longer than intended #and also went in an entirely unexpected direction #but i like how it came out

10 notes · View notes

elveny · 3 years

Note

Estinien and Adriene, At a bar, “If I kissed you right now, what would you do?”

For the Two Part Drabble Prompts | Oh this was lovely, thank you so much!! ❤ (I also have thoughts about the other prompt with the hot cocoa you sent but that’s still very much a WIP.)

___

They had escaped the perpetual winter of Ishgard into one of the many taverns, shaking the snow out of their hair and chasing the cold from their limbs with mulled wine and laughter. Adriene had no idea how late it was by now, but she had no intention of leaving anytime soon. Too engrossed was she in Estinien’s company, in the way he let his guard down for once. It seemed that with his imposing armor, he had also left behind a piece of the shell he usually kept people at bay with.

But maybe it was just how it reminded her of those evenings so many months ago in an icy cave somewhere in Coerthas when they had shared food and stories after their relentless training.

Here, hidden in the crowd of Ishgard’s people, Adriene felt like she didn’t have to pretend to be more than she was. And Estinien, unburdened by the weight of his lance for once.

“If I kissed you right now, what would you do?”

His question hit her out of nowhere, nearly drowning in the ruckus of the tavern, the laughter and boisterous yelling. Adriene’s eyes widened, her chuckle from a moment ago slowly ebbing down in disbelief even as her heart started to beat furiously. At first, she was certain she had misheard, but Estinien’s face held no tease. A small smile was curling his lips as he looked at her, but otherwise, he bore his usual seriousness.

“I, uh…” Adriene started with a voice that was more unsteady than she would have liked. Her eyes fell unwittingly to his lips, the generous curve of it begging her to claim it, and a blush rose hot into her cheeks. Quickly, she looked back up into his eyes, but the intensity of his gaze only sent a shiver down her back. Oh gods. “I’d probably embarrass myself horribly,” she blurted out before she could think about it.

It was clearly not the answer Estinien had expected, and he blinked in surprise.

“I mean,” Adriene quickly continued, “it’s been a long time since I…” A shuddering breath as she stared at his lips again, her words getting somewhat breathless. “Kissed anyone…”

He couldn’t possibly be serious, she was certain of it. To be sure, there had been moments when she had entertained thoughts - hopes even - about him. When there had been a spark, a certain tension that only seemed to grow each time they were alone with each other. But now…

Estinien was still looking at her with that mix of seriousness and tenderness that made her heart soar with emotion, and Adriene swallowed.

“Wouldn’t it cause an uproar?” she asked, suddenly unsure of herself, her fingers starting to trace the rim of her glass to have something to do but stare and wish. “The Azure Dragoon being improper with a foreigner, and in public no less.”

Estinien snorted. “Why do you believe I never take off my helmet when in armor? To allow myself evenings such as this with a certain level of anonymity.” The soft touch on her cheek was enough to stop her fidgeting into stillness. “Besides,” he continued, and his voice dropped a notch, sending another tremble down her spine, “there is nothing improper about this. And if it were - I care not.”

“Good,” Adriene said with a blossoming smile. “For I can assure you that, helmet or not, Tataru will know everything about our evening here in no time.”

“Hm,” he hummed. “Does that woman know just how scary she is?”

Adriene chuckled, causing his own smile to widen. “I don’t think so.”

His thumb brushed along her lower lip, just for a second, and yet it sufficed to make her heart skip a beat in desperate longing. Estinien’s eyes lingered on her mouth, and he leaned an ilm closer before he stopped again.

“You haven’t actually answered my question,” he murmured, his breath whispering over her lips.

Adriene’s eyes were bright as she looked up at him. “Why don’t you find out?”

She had barely stopped talking before he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her with an intensity that seemed to burn through her whole body and let the world fall away from them.

#two part drabble prompts #elveny writes #estinien x wol #ffxiv fanfiction #oc: adriene hawke #allycryz #elveny answers

58 notes · View notes

carrotycake · 3 years

Text

the world put you in front of me (and we aligned)

A chance encounter at an Ishgardian dance, and Ysayle finds herself falling in love all over again.

4.1k words | Rated M | FFXIV | Estinien/Ysayle pairing | AO3

It’s funny, Ysayle thinks. She has spent so much of her life fighting and despising everything the nation of Ishgard stood for, that to be standing here, on the balcony of one of Ishgard’s largest manors, feels a tad hypocritical. For the first time, she appreciates the beauty of the land stretching out in front of her, the late-night sunset (which is as close to a summer as Coerthas gets) casting orange and pink hues across the grey pointed spires of the city itself. She rests her arms on the balustrade, observing the chatter of guests down below. It is oddly peaceful, despite her protestations at being invited in the first place. And still bitterly cold, of course, despite it being summer. Ysayle, shivering, rubs her hands together in an attempt to warm herself up; she had left her coat inside and the thin fabric of her gown was not nearly enough to ward off the freezing night air.

She sighs, her breath exhaling into a cloud of mist in front of her. Had she not gone by the name ‘Iceheart’ for years, revered by her heretic followers? She had survived many harsh Coerthas winters, only for her to shiver now at the merest hint of a breeze. Admittedly, she had found the warmth of the ballroom inside to be a little much, packed as it was with nobles, commoners, and politicians alike. The fresh air, cold as it was, was extremely welcome.

It was Aymeric, of course, that was behind the ball, and her invite to it – the Warrior of Light’s dear friend, and perhaps the most influential man in the city. Endlessly charming, he had persuaded her that it was an olive branch, of sorts, to mend the rifts between heretics and men. And – well, she had wanted to make amends. Lead those who walked after, and all that.

“Out here enjoying the festivities, I see?”

A familiar voice drags her from her thoughts, and she turns to see the tall, lithe body of Estinien crouching carefully on the gables above the double doors leading back into the ballroom. She frowns, irritated that he had caught her unawares in a moment of introspection.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

He shrugs, getting to his feet and gracefully hopping onto the ground beside her; ever the dragoon, she notes. He’s not in the armour he wore the last time they had seen each other, before Azys Lla. Like Ysayle, he is dressed in an approximation of Ishgardian formal wear, his long white hair tied in a loose half-ponytail. He’s handsome, her mind helpfully supplies, and she wills the thought away before it becomes trouble.

“Long enough,” he replies, leaning on the railing a fulm or two away from her, his gaze distant. He frowns. “Formal…balls aren’t really my thing. I needed some air. And – a break from drunk nobles trying to get me to dance with their offspring.”

Ysayle chuckles, despite herself. “I must admit, I did not recognise you at first. You clean up well, when you’re not head to toe in dragon blood.”

He bows his head. If Ysayle is not mistaken, she sees the hint of a blush colour his pale cheeks.

“Well,” he mutters, “You are the opposite, Iceheart. I believe there was not a soul in that room that did not notice you upon entering.”

She raises an eyebrow. “In a good way, or a bad way? Pray, do elaborate.”

Estinien splutters for a second. “Well, I – It is a nice dress. That is all I meant. No doubt the haberdashers will be inundated with requests for similar styles by tomorrow morning.”

A slightly backhanded compliment, but a compliment, nonetheless. “Damned by faint praise, I see.”

She turns to look back towards the sunset. “It is actually one of Tataru’s creations, so they’ll have a hard time prying the pattern from her little hands.”

Tataru had taken over creative control of this project, because formal dances were certainly not Ysayle’s area of expertise, and the Lalafell had been only too happy to help out. The light, drapey cerulean fabric of the dress belied the traditional Ishgardian style, but Ysayle had never cared much for tradition anyway. It was pinned and tucked beautifully, with embroidered details on the neckline and hem. It even – scandalously – showed off a little cleavage, something Ysayle wasn’t necessarily unhappy with.

They stand like that together, a little distance apart, for a few minutes; enjoying the last rays of the sun in what appears to be a companionable silence. How many times had they done this, a mere few months ago? Accompanied by Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light, of course, but together nonetheless. Sunsets always seemed even more spectacular when seen on islands beyond the clouds. Ysayle had never thought to see such beauty again in her lifetime; she had expected to die on Azys Lla, one last act of service as Shiva.

The gods, as it happened, must have had other plans, as she’d fallen from that great height and landed in the middle of a Vanu Vanu outpost; the last remnants of Shiva’s protection shielding her from further harm in the fall. Word had gotten back to Camp Cloudtop of her survival, and she had eventually woken in the infirmary in the centre of Ishgard. Mere days after her own discharge, and Estinien was staying there under the very same care as she had.

She had avoided visiting, though, despite Alphinaud’s almost-insistence that she do so. She had never thought this far ahead in life; now there was peace, real peace, and her old role was no longer needed. Lord Aymeric, introduced through the Warrior of Light, had requested her help in rehabilitating the remaining heretics and repairing the city in exchange for a pardon for her crimes, and she was not about to turn down such an offer. The Scions had allies, and she herself was still blessed with Hydaelyn’s gift, so she might as well make herself useful.

In quieter moments, however, her mind always drifted back to Estinien. She admitted to being a little disappointed when he disappeared from Ishgard without a trace after his recuperation; the small, naïve girl within her longed to believe that they could have been…something, more than just acquaintances passing in the night.

“You are deep in thought, my lady,” he says, a statement more than a question. Ever with the formalities, even when they were at each other’s throats with opposite ideals.

She shakes her head. “Just reminiscing. My life has taken on a trajectory I could not have anticipated before I had met you and your allies. I have much to be grateful for.”

“I admit, I was – glad to hear you had lived. My own fortunes were, you could say, not so lucky after our victory on Azys Lla. I did not hear about – you – until after I had awoken in the infirmary.” Estinien looked – embarrassed, perhaps? Ysayle could not tell, in the dim light of the evening.

“I-” He falters, swallowing. “I wanted to apologise. For things I have said. Knowing now the full truth of the war betwixt man and dragon, I – I said some unkind things. ‘Twas not your fault that I was ignorant.”

Ysayle takes a moment to think on his words. They were not the people they once were, after all. The truth, she thinks, has changed them both. She looks at him, then – he does not shy away from her eye contact – and nods.

“Apology accepted. For what it’s worth, I have a great deal to apologise for as well. My conscience is not clear, by any means.”

Estinien cracks a small smile. (She tries not to think that a smile suits him. It really does.)

“Aye, that is true.”

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted by a change of music from the ballroom – a slightly faster tune, reminiscent of folk tunes Ysayle heard as a child at communal dances in Falcon’s Nest. It was clearly designed to bring more couples onto the dance floor, and was so far having the intended effect. Ysayle could see the Warrior of Light, dressed in finery (another of Tataru’s creations), swinging Alphinaud a little too fast round in circles on the dancefloor. Aymeric could be seen, too, dancing politely with Hilda; commoners and nobles alike danced merrily to the band’s music. If this was their new republic, Ysayle thinks, then she quite likes it.

It is this train of thought that compels Ysayle with more bravado than she has; not thinking about where it might lead, she turns to her brooding companion.

“Well, when all is said and done-” She holds out a hand to Estinien, “Care for a dance?”

His brow furrows. “I’ve never- I mean. Forgive me, Ysayle. I’m not much of a dancer.”

She smiles lightly. “Neither am I. But we are alone, for the time being. Indulge me.”

“As you wish,” he frowns, still a tad reluctant, but he takes her outstretched hand regardless and pulls her close and Ysayle thinks, oh.

Oh no.

It has been a long time since she has been this close, physically, with anyone, and she wonders if Estinien can feel her heart thudding loudly in her chest. They stumble at first, taking a few attempts to figure out the rhythm of the song versus the clumsiness of their feet, but eventually settle into a gentle waltz.

Ysayle is acutely aware of the position of Estinien’s hand on the small of her back; its warmth – and he is so warm – practically burning through her dress. They are closer than they need to be, exactly, for the formality of ballroom dance, but Ysayle finds that she does not mind. He is avoiding her eyes now (deliberately, she thinks), so she instead concentrates on the position of her hand on his shoulder, her other hand clasped tightly in his as they circle aimlessly together across the balcony.

“So,” he begins, uncertainly, once they’d found their rhythm, “Where did you learn to dance, then? You seem to have more of a head for it than I.”

Ysayle smiles. “A little, as a child. And we had plenty of impromptu dances when I was-” When I was with the heretics¸ she would have said. Another time, in another life. Estinien, evidently noticing her hesitation, raises an eyebrow.

“Forgive me, my lady, but I simply cannot imagine a band of heretics indulging in such trivial things as dances whilst plotting the fall of Ishgard.”

“You are a fool, then, if you believe that we did nothing but sit around and curse the Holy See whilst getting drunk on dragon’s blood,” Ysayle scowls, swinging Estinien round a little more forcibly than she had intended. He stumbles, a little, before righting himself.

“I did not give much thought to the heretics unless they were forcibly attacking the city,” Estinien says, his tone serious, but the quiet glint in his eyes relaying a certain kind of humour. Ysayle rolls her eyes. He always knew exactly how to push her buttons to get her riled up when they were travelling together, and it seems not much has changed.

“I’ll have you know,” she huffs, “Lord Aymeric himself requested my assistance in restoring the city-”

“To avoid a jail sentence, yes,” Estinien has an eyebrow raised, smirking. He positions his arms just so, allowing her to dip backwards as part of the dance. His arms are secure, holding her in place perfectly before swooping her back up. They continue their circles together, Estinien chuckling at Ysayle’s irritation.

“For someone of little skill, you have picked up this dance remarkably fast,” she comments, her face flushed – from the exertion of the dance, or from Estinien’s attention, she was yet unsure.

“I’m a fast learner,” he says, and was it her imagination or was he a little closer to her than before? He stares resolutely ahead, his expression faintly jovial, and Ysayle tries not think about how good his arms felt holding her up.

The upbeat song currently playing comes to a close and, after a brief interlude, a new one starts up, slower than the previous one. Adjusting their pace accordingly, she thinks back a few months to their expedition together. Gods, she had not cared for the dragoon upon first meeting him. He was narrow-minded, and brash, and had been all-too willing to fight and kill the very creatures they were trying to make their allies without a second thought.

And yet – she had grown to like him, over those many days travelling. At first, the attraction had been purely physical. He was handsome, after all, and Ysayle had caught a peek of him removing his armour to see chiselled muscles and a wiry frame; something inside of her had fluttered, momentarily, when he had removed his helmet in front of her for the first time, revealing uncharacteristically soft, fair hair and deep-set blue eyes.

“Don’t get used to this,” he’d muttered, noticing her looking at him. “I can’t eat your soup with a helmet on.”

She’d blushed, then, almost as much as she was surely blushing now.

Even with Estinien’s growing connection to the Eye of Nidhogg – she’d felt it, creeping, growing, gnawing at him even as they travelled together – and his insistence that killing the wyrm was the best solution, she had caught glimpses of a kinder man underneath his harsh determination. Alphinaud had seen it too, as had the Warrior of Light. It endeared him to her, whether she wanted it to or not. And in the long weeks that had followed her miraculous survival, there had been much time for her to dwell on these thoughts.

Halone’s tits, she was in it now, wasn’t she?

It occurs to Ysayle, just then, that the slow pace of the current song meant that their little, secluded waltz had become less of a dance and more just – swaying gently, endlessly circling, not really paying attention to any kind of rhythm. The whole world, for a second, felt like it was just the two of them, the stars aligning to bring them together in a single moment.

“Your hands are cold,” Estinien murmurs, and she forgets for a moment that she still had one of his hands in hers. Usually a woman of great eloquence, she suddenly finds she is tongue-tied, she cannot speak-

“Y-yes, well. Perhaps it is you that is warm,” she whispers, her breath hitching in her throat as he brings her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. He almost seems surprised at his own boldness, his eyes crinkling in a rare bit of humour at her response.

“Mayhap,” he replies. The night is almost completely upon them now, the only light illuminating their faces being the candlelight from the outside lanterns and the ballroom itself. Their eyes meet, Estinien’s expression unusually soft.

Ysayle is not sure who makes the first move but suddenly his lips are on hers, her arms snaking around his neck, his hands on her hips, guiding them in a new kind of dance. In the end, it does not matter, because she is kissing him, and it is suddenly all she can think about. How long had she thought of this moment? How long had she imagined what Estinien’s kiss would feel like? It was, in truth, longer than she would care to admit.

He kisses with the air of someone who does not have a huge amount of practice, but makes up for whatever experience he lacks with strong, guiding hands; Ysayle soon finds herself pressed up against the iron railings of the balcony, the coldness of the metal on her back in sharp contrast to Estinien’s warm embrace. She feels goosebumps on Estinien’s neck where she is touching him; – yes, her hands are always cold, so cold – she moves a hand round to his lapel, using it to anchor herself to him and pull him closer, ever closer.

They break apart to catch their breath, and she looks up at his face, flushed as red as she’d ever seen it, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Do you, perchance, have a residence in Ishgard, Ysayle?” he breathes, still so close to her. Ysayle knows where this is going, knows where this might end up. And she wants it, Halone knows she does.

“That depends,” she says, curling a lock of his hair around her finger. Estinien exhales, almost impatient.

“On?”

Ysayle pulls away, just enough to see his face fully. “Is this…something you want? Truly?” Am I someone you want? She doesn’t say it, but the words settle between them anyway.

He frowns, a trademark scowl, and grasps the hand currently playing with his hair.

“It is. I am not one to deliver undue suffering to a soul such as yourself. And-” He looks flustered, struggling to articulate, “-this is something I have thought about often. In times of difficulty. The possibility of…something more.”

Oh.

“Well then,” she murmurs, his answer more than satisfactory, “In that case, I have a small apartment in the lower wards of the city.”

“I would very much like to get out of here,” Estinien replies, pressing a kiss to her cheek, another along her jawline. She lets her nails scratch the back of his head, just a little, privately enjoying the effect it seems to have on him.

“If you would permit me, my lady-” He breaks away suddenly, a spark of mischief in his eyes, and scoops her up bridal-style. She splutters, wriggling.

“What are you doing?!”

He peers over the edge of the balcony cautiously. “Avoiding any odd stares we might receive from my good friend’s guests. Now, hold still.”

Before Ysayle has any chance to protest, Estinien bends his knees and leaps, and Ysayle’s heart is rushing, the wind howling in her ears momentarily, and it is not far off what a dragon in flight feels like-

He lands, gracefully, some distance away from the mansion, and places her back on her feet with an uncharacteristic amount of care.

Hand in hand, she leads him through the lamp-lit streets, following well-worn paths to the lower area of Ishgard. More than once he catches her against a wall in a bruising kiss, so the walk takes considerably longer than it normally might on one’s own, but Ysayle is too busy wrapped up in Estinien’s arms to care.

The night is fully upon them now, so upon reaching Ysayle’s apartment there is a small amount of stumbling in the dark until she manages to find a lantern. Estinien, helpful as ever, is predictably distracting as she reaches for a pack of matches, hindered by his hands on her waist as he caresses her from behind.

“You know a lantern isn’t really necessary,” he growls, apparently eager. She rolls her eyes – realises too late that it was a gesture he could not see – and bats him away, momentarily.

“I don’t know about you,” she retorts, “But I like to see my lovers when I’m in bed with them.” She manages to strike a small flame into the lantern, illuminating them both in dim, soft candlelight.

Estinien raises an eyebrow, tailing after her as she leads him to the bedroom. “And has the Lady Iceheart had many lovers, in the past?”

She places the lantern down on the chest of drawers with a thunk. “A few. Borne out of convenience, mostly. Some out of love. All enjoyable, for the most part.”

It might have been a cold way of looking at it, but her time leading the heretics had come with its perks, namely that there was no shortage of people interested in her and her powers. She would never have dared manipulate anyone into sex or abuse her power in any way, but she had not been without company, had she so wanted it.

“And what about the famed Azure Dragoon?” she says, her tone a little more defensive than she had intended, “I’m sure the position comes with its own amount of attention.”

“Some,” he concedes, “But for the most part, I preferred to spend my free time training. A few dalliances, here and there. Nothing serious.”

Ysayle nods. Fair enough, she thinks. You’d have to be out of your mind if you actually wanted to sleep with that grouchy, stubborn arse of a dragoon anyway. Yet here she was.

“Well then,” she says, instead, “I still wish for your company tonight, if you’ll have me.”

Estinien is already against her, capturing her mouth in his and lifting her – a little roughly, not that she minds – onto the bed. “I was hoping we would get to that eventually,” he grins, wickedly.

“You’re an arse,” she replies, but there is no heart in the insult, not really. There’s not much time for thinking, after that, and she is happy to lose herself in Estinien’s arms for the time being.

Ysayle wakes from what might have been the most restful night’s sleep she’s had in some time. She casts a sleepy glance over her small apartment; the curtains had been left half-drawn the night previously, and the morning light was casting a bright glare across her bed, and the sleeping souls that lay within.

Ah, right.

Estinien is still sound asleep next to her; they must have moved apart in slumber during the night, but she distinctly remembers falling asleep in his arms. For the first time, she sees him and all of his scars in full daylight, and fights the urge to trace them gently with her fingertips. She settles for brushing his bangs out of his eyes; he is so peaceful in sleep, she thinks, his usual furrowed brow replaced with one of general content.

There are bruises too, newer ones, scattering across his neck and chest. Ysayle blushes, a little, because she knows that she is the one who put them there, and that there are similar marks on her own body. They will be covered with clothes, eventually, but for now they sit as a reminder of newfound passions and a lover she can’t quite forget.

His eyes flutter open, and an immediate scowl crosses his face as he adjusts to the bright light streaming in.

“Gods, do you always wake this early? To this kind of racket?” His voice is raspy with sleep, his long hair a little dishevelled.

She throws him a mock-frown. “Usually I remember to shut the curtains. I might have been…a little distracted last night.” She runs a finger along his jaw, lifting his chin so that she could lean and kiss him. He leans into her touch, a different kind of reverence.

“Ah,” he says, softly, when she pulls away, “Yes, that would make sense.”

Their clothes, haphazardly rumpled on a nearby chair would also suggest a measure of distraction. They had only paused long enough last night for Estinien to peel off Ysayle’s dress and his own clothes and place them somewhere off of the ground before continuing his ministrations.

“I don’t have anywhere to be today,” she says, by way of invitation, unsure as to how her overture would be received now that it was morning. Morning, bringing with it clarity, and the uncertain light of day. Estinien may not want anything more than whatever the previous night had been.

To his credit, though, Estinien reaches for her and brushes a few strands of silver hair behind her ear.

“Me neither,” he says, and Ysayle’s heart thuds in relief, “What activities have you planned? Lunch out, mayhap?”

This elicits a laugh from her, despite herself.

“Mm,” she smiles, “Maybe later. For now, I want you all to myself.”

Estinien responds in kind, using his advantage of strength and centre of balance to hold her firmly by the waist and flip her over, laying on her back.

“That can be arranged.”

His eyes are dark with want, and Ysayle finds that it pleases her greatly to be able to obtain this kind of reaction from him. She wants – well, she wants Estinien. All of him. Now. Obviously.

What she really wants, though, is Estinien for longer. Knowing that they might have something to come back to, a home found in each other’s hearts – the thought terrifies her, as it wasn’t something easily articulated to her stoic lover. Still, she thinks, perhaps in time.

For now, she has the man she wants in her bed, and that is enough.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #final fantasy 14 fanfiction #estinien x ysayle #final fantasy 14 heavensward #carroty writes #this is me remembering i used to post my fanfic on here so here we are i guess #this is extremely self indulgent and i will not be criticised

14 notes · View notes

vergess · 2 years

Note

3 6 7 9 13 for the ff14 asks!

3. Which twin is Better?

Oh, man, I personally like Alphinaud better, but the fact of the matter is, Alisaie is hands down the better twin, have you seen her? She's so fucking feral. I love that for her.

6. Favourite NPC ship?

Although Leveva and Jannequinard's sexual domination of all of Ishgard pleases me emotionally, I have to give it to Estinien/Alphinaud.

They practically got fucking married in 5.5. I wasn't on tumblr at the time, which is tragic, because it means I was forced to catalogue my reaction in tweets like some sort of peasant. But all that matters, really, is that I fell all the way onto the floor in actual real life.

Twice.

I skinned my elbows!!! There was a bruise!

I was that staggered by seeing my babies go as canon as anything in this game does, since the devs actively try not to create romantic relationships for the character to allow the maximum degree of self insertion for your WoL and all.

7. Are catboys an invasive species?

Absolutely, but the good news is, most catboys are already culturally conditioned to accept a neutering program with a minimum of fuss, so the population can be relatively well controlled!

9. Wed, bed or behead. Choose your favourite set! [Aymeric, Estinien, Haurchefant;] [Lyse, Y’shtola, Tataru;] [Hildibrand, Nashu, Greg;] [Alphinaud, Alisaie, G’raha.]

I already did the Elf Boys here, so now it's time for lesbian power hour.

Wed: Tataru Taru. I love her. She is my beloved. I would die for her, and one day, I will.

Bed: Lyse can clearly fuck like a train and I deserve that. I understand this means I'm going to have to get really good at being fisted really fast, but that is a cost I am willing to pay.

Behead: Listen. Listen, Shtola, you know I love you, but listen. You're scary and you're clearly suicidal. This is the only choice.

13. What is 6.0 getting rid of that you will miss the most?

Lol, TBH I only put this question in there because I know some people are really into Rival Wings and they deserve representation. But there is actually nothing I care about going away.

I guess I can cop out entirely and say I'll miss moogle tomestones until they come back next year??

Oh!!! I know!

I will miss having my free teleport location be the Crystarium. That will definitely change in 6.0, because I'm going to have to make the moon or maybe Radz-at-han my free point.

Probably the moon.

Oh my god I hope they let me go moon fishing, that sounds so fucking stupid and I want it so much!!!!

[Get hype for Endwalker ask meme]

#endwalker hype ask meme

3 notes · View notes

allycryz · 3 years

Text

Incandesce

Explicit Fic

Thancred x Nerys (WoL) x Emet-Selch / Thancred x Nerys / Emet-Selch x Nerys / Some Thancred x Emet-Selch

When Nerys made the mistake of telling Emet-Selch to surprise her, this is not what she had in mind.

Even more astonishing: that Thancred is interested.

(A lot of other ships mentioned/discussed, primarily Nerys x Haurchefant and Nerys x Estinien x Aymeric)

Shadowbringers Spoilers

[From This Prompt List]

Prompts Used: Hot Springs in Winter / Restraints / Double Penetration Other Tags: Minor Breathplay in the water, Shaping Aether into Extra Hands, Brief Food Mention

Meta Notes:

This is currently not-canon in the general, overarching sense, but everything that happens prior to Nerys entering the hot springs is canon.

Prelude

Beneath the thickest canopy of trees, Nerys can ignore the great and terrible light above. Pretend she is in the Shroud again. There are Duskwight waiting among the Night’s Blessed for her to return with supplies and reports. Never mind that it’s a name they don’t recognize. The elves of the First separate themselves by region and family, not clan.

Many of Night’s Blessed look like the faces she grew up with. It has...been a long time since she was with such a group. Visiting her parents and Uncle Vaquelin had been lovely, but brief. And that was so long ago now. Before Doma, before Gyr Abania, before Minfilia came here with Ardbert and his companions.

The memory of that long-ago visit conjures Haurchefant, who she had brought with her. Her family loved him–how could they not? It makes her miss him all the more. Their too-brief, too-scarce meetings since her arrival are not enough.

She leaves the nostalgia and safety of the trees behind along with her brooding. People are expecting her. A truth no matter what world she lives on, whether they call her Warrior of Darkness or Light. Nerys is thankful this place doesn’t also remind her of Ishgard. Then the homesickness might turn her brooding into outright tears.

Now. Collecting reeds for the girl’s basket. They should be due south from here.

“Far be it from me to meddle…” Emet-Selch materializes beside her, as if picking up a prior conversation. “But my curiosity outweighs my desire to see where ‘the chips do fall’.”

Nerys turns her gaze toward him without breaking her stride. Last time he did this, she was picking berries and near fell over into the dirt. “Saying ‘far be it from me to meddle’ does not cancel out any subsequent meddling, you know.”

One corner of his mouth tilts up. “I expected my company to be polite enough not to mention it. More fool me.”

“What do I know about manners?” She cannot help herself. Maybe it is the pleased, attractive smirk whenever she says something diverting. Maybe she is tired of all the misfortune around them and needs levity. “I am but a simple warrior, a weapon of brute strength raised in the woods.”

“Self-deprecation does you no favors, my dear. Even when it is clear you know it’s all rubbish.” He waves a hand. “You are among the politest of my enemies.”

“Thank you?”

“Mm. I can be generous.” He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “Now, about my query. Tell me...which suitor do you think will win out?”

That almost makes her stumble. And she can tell from his expression, he is reliving when she almost fell upon her basket of berries. A rare mishap from her that he will never, ever let her forget. “I...beg your pardon?”

“No need to beg for it, this one is free,” says Emet. His tone is insinuating as ever on that point. “You clearly carry torches for both Masters Waters and Matoya. I get the impression he was your lover at one time? The outline I have of your activities before the Exarch summoned you does not include the gritty details. As for her, only the Hrothgar moons after her more than you do.”

Nerys opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “You truly have been watching, haven’t you?”

“Oh not everything. Mortals are not so difficult to read, once you have practice. And your eyes…” He catches her chin, directing his gaze into hers. “They are terribly expressive, once you know what to look for.”

Emet-Selch wants a reaction. She puts her hands on her hips, lifting an eyebrow. Waiting for him to continue. As if his thumb isn’t stroking over her jaw, gentle as a lover. The touch as stirring as when he graces her with a particularly enticing smile.

“Now...” He does not need her permission to continue so she doesn’t give it. Clearly, this is a soliloquy he wants to perform. “I am not sure you know how many carry a torch for you, and I shan’t spoil it by telling you. But it does make things interesting. Not to mention, this Lord Haurchefant your group often mentions. Shall you abandon your noble suitor for a rogue posing as a knight? Or for a scholar of great and terrible power? Will one of the yet undeclared reveal themselves and win the hero’s heart?”

That heart thuds painfully against her chest. The way he shapes his syllables charges each provoking word. And the directness of those wine-gold eyes, a shade paler than her own but no less piercing for it.

He has gotten so much of it wrong. That does not negate how easily he has gotten so much of it right.

Nerys curls her fingers around his wrist and tugs his hand down. Emet-Selch does not resist, though when their hands are navel-level he twists just so, clasping her wrist in return, They remain locked thus, neither one letting go.

“Surely one as ancient as you, as easily bored as you,” she says. “Must know there are other options.”

“I don’t think a vow of chastity would suit you. Your eyes run too hot upon your comrades-”

“Lord Haurchefant,” she continues. “He is my lover and my beloved. Were I the marrying kind, his ring would be on my finger. That would not stop either of us from sharing physical and emotional intimacy with others.”

Emet-Selch says not a word, betrays no emotion. He does not veer into patronizing congratulations or arrogant dismissal. That same thumb begins to stroke again, over her gauntlet.

“There are others in the Source with such arrangements. I’m delighted to know it’s fairly common in the First.” Nerys cannot resist her smirk. Is this how he feels when he lectures her? “For some, it is about a variety of sexual partners. Sometimes it’s like that for us. More often...we are the kind to fall madly for someone or someones, in addition to wanting the physical parts. So whatever may happen...it is not a matter of winning.”

“Well,” he says, looking at her as if for the first time. Considering.

“Well,” he says again, with a slow smile. “You are full of surprises, my dear. I thank you for not being as boring as I expected.”

“Accuse me of many things, but never that.” Nerys takes a step back, breaking the link of their hands. “But I don’t think my expansive heart is my most unique quality.”

“On that, at least, we agree.” His enigmatic smile inflames just the right amount of curiosity in her. She resists best as she can. “Well, that puts to rest one of my little games. No reason to stay and help you...what is it again? Collecting reeds so a girl may make a basket?”

“Yes, that,” she says. “Would you like to join?”

“Oh, I am not so starved for stimulation to partake.” Purple and black aether swirls around his ankles. “Whistle for me, when you’re doing something actually worthy of a hero.”

“No need,” she says. “Somehow, I think you’ll know.”

He smirks as he disappears.

Weeks Later

"Alone at last."

In one motion: she slams the book shut, jumps up, has the knife pointed and ready. The sharp edge gleams in the lamplight, as bright as his gaze as he sighs at her.

"Really," says Emet-Selch. "I thought we were past this stage."

They were. They are. It doesn’t change that Eulmore is an ever looming spectre at their heels. That this pressure on her chest and shoulders is building. For their last few talks, Ardbert has made sure to catch her attention well before speaking.

She keeps thinking Ran’jit is about to appear and cut her down.

Nerys exhales a breath, blade staying poised for the moment. “Do you always startle trained warriors?"

“Only you, hero.” He touches the pad of his gloved finger against the dagger point. “This is not so beautiful a weapon as your lance."

"A lance is a little more difficult to keep close at all times." It is, in fact, leaning against the wall of her room. Just behind him. By the way his eyes flicker to the side and then to her, he knows it.

They are well past when she might run for it, and brandish it at him. The gaze feels so much like a challenge though, she contemplates it. He wouldn’t expect her to start a physical fight after weeks of banter.

Nerys withdraws the blade.

“It is a well-made little knife. A gift? I don't recall seeing it on you before."

"I always keep a dagger on me, one never knows when an ambush is coming." She slides it back in the sheath, touch lingering on the deep-plum leather of the hilt. "...But yes, this is new."

"I thought so. From Thancred no doubt, as he has been lavishing attention on you as of late." He steps away, spreading his arms. "He was the paramour I expected to win. At least until you explained that you don't limit yourself to just one."

His words conjure visceral memories without much effort. Her tender, still-aching reconciliation with Thancred at the start of this week. What they could have had in Ala Mhigo had the Exarch not spirited him away the day they meant to talk.

But also, the day in the Rak’tika Greatwood with Emet-Selch. His teasing about the choice she would “have” to make. Her defiant lecture. His fingers on her chin and on her wrist.

"Over Y'shtola, you mean?" She leans her back against the desk, arms crossed. "Or the other admirers you claim I have? Which are who, exactly?"

"Ah, ah, ah," he says with a wag of a finger. His pale gold eyes and wicked mouth brim with laughter. "You will have to try much harder than that to get my secrets."

“Does that mean you won’t explain what ‘alone at last’ means?”

"That one should be obvious, my dear." He remains apart from her but his gaze feel like a touch. Like a stroke of hand over her arm or cheek.

Attraction is like that. And she is adult enough to admit he is attractive–painfully so–without it needing to be a problem. It doesn’t change who they are or that one day, she may need to face him on the battlefield.

(Nerys had been able to face Estinien and Thancred both after all. Though unlike them, this man’s mind is his own. She is certain Zodiark’s pull is not the same as Lahabrea’s or Nidhogg’s.)

"I have been busy of late,” she says. “But surely there are others you might visit."

"None of your Scions will play with me the way you will," he pouts. "Even your scholarly Elezen friend will only suffer me so long."

Nerys laughs. "Who says I am willing to play with you? Or that is what we do?"

Emet-Selch’s expression reminds her of Aymeric’s cat, affronted over Nerys taking his spot upon the chaise lounge that one time. Unlike Sainte, he does not stomp away with a disgruntled noise. “I have never lied to you. Do me the favor of not lying to me.”

"Never?" She asks without real conviction. Nerys is certain he has not lied to her or anyone in their group. Omitted, yes. Likely a great deal.

“Never.” Emet-Selch crosses the space, moving close to her. The fur of his jacket brushes against the front of her gray linen gown. He leans in, leans in, his breath tickles her face and she tries not to give him the reaction he seeks.

He gets so close his lips graze her cheek and she breaks, breath hitching. And then he leans past her, reaching behind to take up the book she closed. "Collected Folk Tales of Lakeland. I admit, I expected something related to your quest."

His face is hidden but she feels his smirk as keenly as she feels the heat of his body against her. "I needed a little break and stories always cheer me. I wish the ones I heard as a child were collected somewhere."

"Ah, but they lose magic that way, don't they?" He breathes into her ear. "Some in the telling, but far more when we commit them to the page."

Don't shiver. Don't react. "Why not have the stories both ways?"

His chuckle is low. "Why not indeed. You do not like to make choices, do you?"

"It isn't that." Her arms remain folded against her chest. Still, if someone were to come in they would think something else was happening. And that would not be a full lie.

On impulse, her eyes flicker about to make sure Ardbert isn't there.

"Too many people reduce life to hard, either-or decisions," she says. "And I have found there is almost always a third or fourth or fifth way."

"An optimist. How very…" Emet-Selch pulls back to look at her. Sighs. "Very boring. I expected better, given all the pathos I have seen in your eyes."

"I'm sorry to disappoint." She turns towards the book, straightening her disrupted papers.

His hands come down on either side of her, balancing against the gentle curve of the desk edge. She is caged, with his breath upon her nape and his body a wall of flame grazing her back. Nerys has managed this session to not rise to his bait, but her resolve is weakening and this does not help.

Attraction does not have to mean anything. You have the will, to have it be a simple fact; not a catalyst or excuse.

"Come now,” he murmurs. His nose tickles the back of her neck. The skin there is extra sensitive; hair freshly trimmed to the new, shorter length. “You have a better retort than that."

"You think so? Maybe you're the optimist."

His laugh is a puff of air upon her. "Better, but still sloppy. I expect more from my playmate."

She wants to argue that point but he has already exposed her defense for the lie it is. Call it play or teasing, Nerys does enjoy these times. When she might pretend he is just a handsome man come only for banter; not...whatever they are to each other or will be.

She enjoys him.

Her eyes flicker to the window. Fading sunlight catches the light fall of snow, the first in a long time for Lakeland. It pulls at her heart for another reason: terrible homesickness for Ishgard. And the position of the sun now means-

"I have to cut this ‘play session’ short. I'm expected elsewhere." Nerys turns in the cage of his arms and gives him a gentle push. "And you're not allowed to be in my room when I am gone."

"Spoilsport. Whatever do you expect me to do? Languish in waiting?"

Her way cleared, Nerys moves past him to the bag she packed earlier. Just a small thing with the necessities for this jaunt...and if she doesn’t sleep in her room tonight. "I know you'll think of something. Surprise me."

As soon as she says it, she regrets it. Too late, his smirk is wide, his face lit with enthusiasm. “I can do that.”

He disappears in a swirl of aether. Nerys wonders if she made a fatal error.

---------

Amaros fly them to the Ostall Imperative. From there, she and Thancred walk the forest path. The creatures of the lilac-and-bone-colored forest keep their distance tonight, many hiding from the strange weather. They still need to be alert though, lest they or brigands cross the path.

Even still, she keeps having to look at him. Assure herself he is there, with her. Truly with her. Their hands brush together once, twice, three times before he at last laces their fingers together. Smiles up at her with a look that stills her breath no matter how many times it happens.

She has loved him...a long time. Grieved him in different ways for different reasons for a long time. And now here he is, having asked for another chance and she hopes this week is not a long, wishful dream.

“It’s never snowed while you’ve been here?” Nerys asks, using her free hand to dust the flakes off her shoulders. Five long years here, under the horrible light. She cannot imagine. No wonder he felt like a stranger when first they found each other in Laxan Loft.

"Not that I've seen. You've brought balance back to the place."

"We have, not just I." She squeezes his hand.

Thancred chuckles. "You should take the credit."

"So should you. And-"

He cups her cheek, tugging her down into a kiss. Deep and soft and intoxicating. All week he has caressed her like this, each time overwhelming her with the gentle sensuality of it. She can almost forgive him doing it just to win an argument. Almost, until she pulls back and sees the old familiar gleam, the old familiar smirk.

"You can't...do that every time." Nerys says, a little breathless. Hands still gripping the supple material of his coat like a lifeline.

"I would never. Only some of the time." His smirk grows. Twelve, but she missed that expression on his face. Not that she loves this new, more serious Thancred any less. Every part of him, every facet, she adores. "Though, I think I need to do it once more."

Never mind whoever waits for them. Now that she can touch him like this again, feel him like this again, she never wants to stop. And from the way his hands grip her, run over her sides and hips, he doesn't either. She presses herself close to him, lips tracing the line of his jaw to the shell of his ear.

Thancred pulls himself back, eyes hot. "If we don't start walking again, I'm going to drag you into the bushes."

She doesn't move. "That isn't incentive to walk."

"I should have known better." He holds out a hand and she takes it, surprised when he starts down the path again. “Come along.”

He must want this date to happen as planned. Thinking about it...they have not had many formal engagements like this. They were either comrades or they were lovers. Maybe there would be a trip to the market or a shared drink in Revenant’s Toll between battles and bed.

Nerys wonders if he might be inspired to poetry, like he had once with his other paramours. Not all of his couplets were groanworthy.

Bosta-Bea awaits them at Clearmelt, her smile wide and welcoming. The sign near her declares that the springs closed at sundown. That alone means Thancred put down a lot of coin for this. Bosta-Bea’s excellent humor doubly verifies it.

“I’ll be just inside if anyone tries to bother you,” she says after greetings and pleasantries are exchanged. “I doubt anyone will but just in case…”

“My thanks,” says Thancred. He hasn’t let go of her hand yet and he squeezes it while he speaks. “The changing rooms are just through there?”

“Yes, with towels to use in the bath.” Bosta-Bea ushers them through to the first room. It’s filled with large stalls that each contain shower, changing room, and locker. Everything hums with magic, likely a number of convenience charms throughout to dry hair and keep belongings safe.

In her own stall, Nerys strips away her leathers. The cool air of the new winter prickles over her skin until she can get under the hot water, rinsing the day off. She is still not used to washing shorter hair. Her hands reach for phantom length to lather with shampoo.

Nerys misses her curls. The haircut was necessary. For catharsis: chopping away locks that held memories of the past moons. For symbolism: starting again, refusing to let grief weigh her down.

And she did it in the city she calls home. Jandelaine paid a house call to the Fortemps Manor. Lord Edmont tried not to hover. Artoirel did hover, repeating questions and bringing her cups of tea and plates of orange-cardamom shortbread.

The hole in her heart began to scab over, the patch knit in tandem with her brother and second father; her friend wielding his scissors; and all Aymeric and Estinien did for her and with her the days and nights following her rescue from the Ascian in Zenos’ body.

Nerys is glad she did it.

Even still, she misses the length and the curl. Hasn’t acclimated to the change yet. Everyone has been complimentary. Thancred spent last night and the night before murmuring about her beauty as he took her apart. And Emet-Selch-

She yanks on the knob, turning off the shower and the intrusive thoughts with them.

The charms she expected are present, drawing the moisture from her skin and hair. Most don’t submerge themselves fully in these springs, never mind the new addition of cold wind and snow. Nerys wraps the soft towel around her body, slips her feet into the provided sandals. She takes her pack and lance with her. No offense to the lockers, but trouble never picks a convenient time to find her.

The first thing she sees is his gunblade propped up against one of the walls, just out of range of water but close enough to run for. She laughs and walks over, doing the same with her lance before taking the knife from her bag.

"Knifeplay?" Thancred asks. "I'm not sure I want to introduce that in this setting."

She turns to him with a snappy remark but it dissolves away.

He sprawls against the side of the bath, arms draped over the edge and head tipped back. What she can see of his muscled chest gleams with moisture in the moonlight. The light snow falls on his cheek.

“Nerys? It’s cold out.”

“It’s uncharacteristically cold tonight,” he said, standing outside her room at the Pendants. A pile of blankets in his hand. Two nights ago. Three days after they agreed to begin again, starting a slow and sometimes aching courtship.

Her chest tightened. “You had better come in then.”

“Just to deliver the blankets?” His eyes gleamed.

“Hm…” She pulled him inside. “That’s a start.”

His towel is folded, just within reach outside of the pool. Well then. Nerys lets hers fall, watching his eyes rake over her lush curves to the apex between her thighs. She takes her time walking over. A swell of pleasure rises in her gut. At the water’s edge, she bends at the waist to set towel and knife down within easy reach.

"You should come here," he says, a soft growl beneath his words. She fights the shudder wanting to rip through her.

"Just a minute." She slips out of the sandals. Dips a toe into the water, testing it. He starts to move towards her, but stops all at once when she holds up a hand. "Sit. Stay."

Thancred smirks. "You remember right? That I always repay you when you tease me."

A soft warmth incongruous to the moment floods her chest and she is helpless not to smile at him with soft eyes and a softer voice. "I have never forgotten a single moment, Thancred."

He swallows, his eyes telling the jumble of emotions roiling in him. She can see all the Thancreds she has known–the serious, protective Thancred, the closed-off and grieving Thancred. The teasing, playful Thancred who seduced her all over Mor Dhona. The attentive, caring Thancred who always knew when she needed him to take over and give her release, or when to let her hold the reins.

The loving Thancred, though neither of them have said the word yet.

"Nerys," he says, voice raw. "Come here."

She goes to him, sliding into the water and into his arms, into his lap as he embraces her. His tongue slides over her bottom lip and she opens to him, lets him plunder her mouth as his hands slide over her hips and waist. Traces her new scars, every mark she has earned since the Bloody Banquet. She finds the ones he has gained since, and where the First has failed to duplicate them. His soul is a near-perfect copy of the body in the Source, but there are small differences.

He parts from her after an eternity, gasping as he rests his forehead on her shoulder. "My plan was for a long, slow night of seduction. And yet, here we are."

“We always end up here,” she says with a laugh. Just as they had meant to take things slow, at least a few weeks before they became lovers again. Why had they ever thought that was a good idea? "Didn't you have any company, these five years?"

"Very little," he admits. "Almost none, once I took in Min-...Ryne. I couldn't exactly leave her to wait at a campsite while I lurked in a tavern looking for a companion."

"Very little," she repeats, cupping the side of his neck and the tattoo. Rubbing it gently. "You don't have to tell me details but...anyone I know?"

He smiles; a little sad, a little soft. "Despite having all the time to do so...no, I didn't make a move on either of them. By the time they got here, I was once again wrapped in my anger and grief."

Nerys sighs and kisses his forehead. "At our pace, neither of us will confess to Y'shtola before our sixtieth Nameday." As to when he might speak to Urianger, maybe before his fiftieth.

His laugh is gentle. "I forgot you were an optimist."

The word startles her in a way she can’t disguise and Thancred is alert all at once, ready to ease whatever troubles her. She shakes her head to assuage him. “Nothing. Nothing, just reminded me of a conversation I had with...someone, earlier.”

“Sweetheart.” The old endearment enfolds her in its warmth despite the slight reproof. “I can guess who from the evasion. It won’t bother me.”

"The last thing I want is to cause you more pain."

“He is not Lahabrea.” Thancred squeezes her hip. "Not that I am fond of our 'friend.' But it won't injure me to know you talk to him."

"Alright." She wraps her arms about his neck to better balance herself. The cold air and fall of snow prickle at her shoulders and chest, a sharp contrast to the heat of the water and where their skin presses together.

"And what about you?" He asks, shifting his leg just so between her thighs. No pressure against her center, not yet. "Was there anyone since I saw you? I know it wasn’t five years for you but..."

"Ah...yes." More heat rises in her. "...Estinien and Aymeric."

Thancred’s eyebrows shoot up. "Both? At the same time?"

“Mm.” Nerys finds herself ducking her head, vulnerable. Those stolen nights in Ishgard seem a dream now, all the more because she had thought it would never happen. And had made peace with that. "Estinien walked in on us and...well, they are a couple. It wasn't so odd to invite him…"

"And you’ve wanted him as long as you wanted Aymeric," says Thancred. He has that smug expression he gets sometimes. “Perhaps for longer. I wondered when it would happen.”

She huffs, scowling. "Is this what you do? Figure out who I am in love with and wait for me to say something?"

"I can't help it." He dips his head, kissing her shoulder. "I seem to have an extra sense for this sort of thing with you."

“I’m glad we found each other.” She means it teasing but again, her words come out warm with emotion. How long till she can stop feeling so much relief to have him in her arms? Sometimes she thinks she feels more than she is supposed to, with no way to stem the tide.

“So am I.” That leg moves with purpose now, nudging against her folds. He leans forward, catching her cold-stiffened nipple between his lips. She gasps, a low moan following right after. Thancred smirks and looks up at her. “Your exploits make for stirring tales.”

“Well, that answers that.”

In an instant, Nerys is up with the knife while Thancred rises, his fists raised. Their usual weapons are just far enough that blades and hands make sense for the interim.

Emet-Selch lounges on the opposite side of the bath, chest and below submerged in the water. He chuckles. "This is the second time you've aimed a blade at me today. I'm starting to think you don't like me."

Thancred growls. "You're trespassing, Ascian."

"Oh?" He shrugs. Nerys refuses to note how well-sculpted his shoulders are. "I wasn't aware you owned these natural springs, the night air…"

"You know exactly what I mean."

"Mayhaps. But I was practically invited. Isn't that right, my dear?" Emet-Selch turns his gaze to Nerys, making no secret of how his eyes sweep over her nude body, her erect nipples, the drops of water coursing down her blue-gray skin.

She is already bare and it still feels like he is undressing her with his gaze.

“What? No.” She shakes her head at Thancred’s shocked expression. “No. When I said ‘surprise me’, this is not what I meant.”

“Well, this is why being specific is important." Emet sighs, sinking deeper into the water. “Will you put that knife down? Having two things pointing at my way is rather disconcerting...though stimulating."

At that, Thancred seems to remember he is naked and erect, though the cold air is working to amend the second problem. He sinks back into the water.

Nerys stoops to set the knife down, one arm shielded over her breasts and trying keep her thighs together. It wreaks havoc on her balance and makes Emet look even more amused. She gives up–he has already seen her–and sinks back into the water without further attempts at modesty.

The Emperor was a soldier, in his way. If his immortality hadn’t made him immune to being scandalized, being in the barracks surely had. As soon as she sits, Thancred slides an anchoring arm about her waist.

"Better," says Emet. "No wonder you have been neglecting me to spend all your time with him, hero. He is rather spectacular, beneath all the scowls he sends my way."

Thancred rolls his eyes. “You got your surprise and answered your question. Whatever that was.”

“Oh, that?” Emet-Selch’s smirk unfurls, slow as honey without the sweetness. “Our Warrior told me about Lord Haurchefant, how open they are with each other. I wondered if she was so with her other paramours, talking freely about her conquests."

Thancred glances her way again. There was no reason to volunteer that information, it just...came up. When provoked, to be fair. Every other time she’s spoken about it...no she cannot say it was always to score points against Emet.

The look he gives her isn’t accusatory, she realises. It is...considering.

“And then here I find you two, comparing notes. Well, comparing notes against near celibacy. Either way, it’s very interesting.”

Nerys squeezes Thancred’s knee below the water. Rubs her thumb over the joint. “How long were you there?”

“Oh, long enough to be enjoyable but not so much to have been rude.” He slides a hand through his hair, pushing back locks damp from steam and snow. It...does things for his face, which he likely knows. “I did tell you that I like to watch.”

“Had your fill then?” Thancred asks, squeezing her hip.

"It takes much more to sate me. But it seems you two will be boring and stare at me till I leave." He sighs. "And as you are both submerged, I cannot even have something nice to look at. So, I suppose I'll go…"

No wait- She almost says.

She almost says! Twelve, Fury, whoever was listening, preserve; Nerys had actually thought of asking him to stay. This attraction is more dangerous than she thought. Clearly she is not so cool and objective about his beauty, if she is so on the verge.

Thancred goes very still beside her.

Nerys curses inwardly. Of course he catches on. This is what he does–understand what she wants before she admits it to herself. And that is all fine...until it is this man behind everything they have fought, everything that has hurt them and taken away their loved ones.

Attraction is not harmless and objective if Thancred is beside her, hurting because of it and her.

“Depends,” says Thancred, squeezing her hip again. “Are you going to sit there and make remarks, or are you going to do something useful?"

What?

She turns to Thancred, at a loss. Even at his most reckless, he wouldn’t invite an enemy to...maybe she misunderstands.

Emet-Selch is very still, the self-satisfied expression gone from his face. Thancred has surprised them both.

“Are you…” She swallows and starts again. “Are you saying…”

“You’re attracted to him, and he to you.” Thancred says, pressing lips to her temple. The soft pressure is unlike the rigid way he holds himself, tension all through his body. “And while neither of us trust him, sex doesn't have to require that.”

It doesn’t, but it always has for her. Even one night with a stranger requires someone she feels relatively safe with. More than that–he isn’t telling the whole truth. He isn’t testing her. That isn’t his way. But he has a reason she can’t guess at yet.

She does not trust Emet-Selch. He is not safe.

But. But.

If...when he strikes, it will not be while making love to them. It seems too gauche, too crude for him. There have been other times, more seemly times he might have waited for her to lower her guard. Like hours ago, when she presented her back to him and he had all but molded to it.

And she trusts Thancred.

“Okay,” she says. Not even sure that Emet will agree or if he is about to laugh at their temerity. Two sundered beings, thinking they might bring pleasure to an Ascian. “But if anyone says stop, we stop. No questions asked.”

“Agreed.” Thancred says, keeping her close to him.

Emet begins to rise until Thancred lifts a hand, gesturing for him to stay put. Clearly amused, the other man complies.

Nerys startles when Thancred lifts her into his arms and out of the water, carried like a bride through the chill air. He has always been strong but...he lifts her as if she is nothing. His muscles speak to the strength he has honed these five years but still, she hadn’t grasped the change. Not until now, cradled against his chest with her long legs dangling over his arms.

Thancred crouches, setting her into Emet’s lap with her back against the Ascian’s chest, smoothing his hands over her arms before he lets go. At once, Emet slides his hands around to palm her breasts. She gasps at the electric touch–both too much and not enough.

He is not shy. And he is not going to dismiss them.

His hands feel better than he imagined. And she can admit now: she imagined.

"I've no idea what you're trying to prove, Thancred." Emet says, breath against her ear. "But as it gives me something I want, I will examine it later."

Something in her clenches at that. “When you spoke of play...have you been flirting this whole time? Or was that just to rile me?”

“Yes.” Emet presses his lips to the side of her neck, feather light. Almost imperceptible. His hands are the opposite, purposeful as they knead her breasts, roll her dark purple nipples between his fingers until she squirms on his lap. It’s like he knew how sensitive she would be there.

Thancred’s hand reaches behind her, gripping somewhere on Emet. His shoulder? Digging into his hair? He has to lean in close to do it and Nerys takes advantage. She presses her mouth to his brown nipple, chasing a rivulet of water down his chest. Sweet, just like he can be.

"You don't put anything inside her until I say so," says Thancred. His voice is harsh but he shivers beneath her lips.

"Oh," Emet breathes. "Do you always let him boss you like that, my dear?"

He squeezes her left breast and she gasps against Thancred instead of answering. All at once he stills, waiting for her response. “S-sometimes. It depends.”

That earns her more pressure against her needful flesh, the fingers pinching just so. “Tell me.”

Nerys tries to look back at him. He frees one hand to catch her chin, directing her eyes back to Thancred who kneels before her. It almost doesn’t feel real, without seeing Emet and his smile and his pale-gold eyes. It could be anyone behind her, certainly not him of all people.

Except that voice. She would know it in the haunting light of Kholusia or in the darkest cave of the Night’s Blessed. At some point, he slipped under skin as if he was meant to be there.

Thancred watches them, running one hand up and down the outside of her thigh in slow strokes. The other is underwater, mirroring the touches on himself. He nods, giving her permission to tell their secrets.

“We...switch,” she says. “I often prefer someone to hold my reins. But...sometimes I like telling him what to do. Withholding from him until he is good. Making him beg.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Emet purrs, proving just how long he watched them. She frowns and puts her hand on his wrist, giving it a light squeeze.

“That’s his name for me. You need to choose your own.”

He sighs and she can feel his eyes rolling. Dramatically. “Oh, very well. I suppose I could continue calling you my dear.”

At those words, his teeth sink into her earlobe and his hands resume their kneading. His erection presses at her under the water, the thickness apparent just from the feel of him. She resists the urge to grind against it, lest it end things too soon.

"Any other orders, Thancred? Or are you content to watch me tease her until she begs for release?"

Thancred cups her face between his hands and kisses her, unhurried and deep. She grows pliant under the luxurious touch of both men. No reins desired in her hands tonight. And from the glint in his eyes when he parts from her, Thancred can tell.

“Hold her arms behind her,” he says. “And you’ll be nice for us, won’t you sweetheart? He shouldn’t have to worry about holding you back."

"I'll play nice. This time."

“Ha." He nips her jaw. "Say stop, and we stop. And if you can’t speak, go very still and I will too.”

Nerys nods. Strong hands grip her arms, arranging them to cross behind her back before locking tight upon her. Except-

Except, there are still fingers on her breast. Palms anchoring her hips tight against Emet. She looks down and sees black and purple aether in the vague shape of hands, cupping her aching chest.

Emet chuckles, low and dark. His cock twitches against her. "I have my talents."

Twelve. Growing wet is...different in hot water. But there is still a heated, slick pulse between her legs and her hips try to jerk in response to the idea of what he could do with all those hands. The heat filling her has nothing to do with the springs.

Thancred pushes the aether-hands off her chest so he can cup her breasts, drawing them up as he lowers his mouth to suckle at one. Her head tips back and Emet-Selch takes advantage, lips pressing to the side of her neck. The barest hint of teeth whispers with them.

“So sweet, so good,” murmurs Thancred. His large, callused hands slide over her as his tongue traces her nipple. "What do you want tonight?"

Nerys can barely shiver, the hold on her is so tight and strong. Emet’s fingers pulse against her, firm but not harsh on her skin. “I want you. I want you both. However you want me.”

He smiles and she readies to receive another litany of compliments. The words always flow from him when he is amorous, praising every twitch of her muscles, every way she takes him into her. Instead, he rewards her with another dizzying kiss; so intense she forgets herself and tries to throw her arms about him.

Emet tightens his grip, tutting against her neck. "And she was so well behaved until now."

“Sorry,” she murmurs against Thancred’s mouth. “I just-I need to feel you-”

“Shh, it’s alright.” Thancred hushes her, his fingers against her mouth as he moves into her space. She parts her lips and takes the tip of one, swirling her tongue about it. “Ah, I’ll give you what you need.”

He slides a hand onto the back of her neck, nudging her down while she continues lathing his finger. The many hands clutching her accommodate, till she is suspended and bent over, balanced by the arms held taut behind her, barely on Emet’s lap. Her chin dips into the hot water and she stares up through lowered lashes.

Thancred stands, sliding a hand to grip just beneath the swollen head of his cock. Not as thick as what she feels against her rump, but it has grown to its full aroused length. Emet hums appreciatively, likely at the outstanding number of ilms on display. She thinks–it is hard to think, held like this, a slip away from all of her sinking into the water, his cock before her-

She thinks there are more hands on her now, thumbs rubbing subtle, light circles into her arms and legs and ankles. Emet follows the orders; nothing is inside her yet. But oh how she wants there to be, an end to the sweet torture of the many teasing touches.

“Well?” Emet asks. “Are you going to give her what she needs? You certainly have enough of it.”

Thancred smirks over her head, slowing the pace of his stroke as he goes from root to tip. Caressing each bit of the shaft before swirling his thumb over the head, worrying at his lip when he does so. Both she and Emet make pleased sounds at the same time, hers much more needy and inelegant.

At last, Thancred slides one hand into her short locks; keeping her in place as he guides himself into her mouth. Slow at first, then pressing deep as she relaxes her mouth and throat. She cannot take him all the way but she tries, savoring the heady taste of him and spring water until her toes curl.

He fucks into her mouth, his hips jerking in quick thrusts. The water splashes up her face and she closes her eyes, the sensations heightening the moment she does. Over the splashing she hears Thancred say something. In response, two fingers plunge into her folds. In and out, pulling back as soon as she tries to grind against them.

She thinks they are Emet’s flesh hands. She cannot be sure.

Nerys squirms to free herself, needing to touch Thancred. Run her hands over his shaft where her mouth cannot possibly go. The grip on her limbs tightens, a third finger slides into her. She can feel Emet’s body move with a chuckle even though she can only hear the water splashing over her nose and closed eyelids. The threat to her breathing goads her pleasure.

Thancred’s grip in her hair tightens, the other hand joining to burrow in the violet and white strands. His fingers in her scalp send a new wave of feeling through her. She moans around him, the pressure in her building but with no outlet in sight.

His thrusts speed up and she knows what is about to happen, groans in encouragement as his release pours into her. He doesn’t let go, not until he is fully spent and the momentum gives way. She can hear him now, the running litany of praise he must have kept up the whole time. “-so good, so good you did so well…”

He drags her off him and kneels, pressing her to sit again with her back against Emet, lips brushing against hers as she swallows and catches her breath. Nerys opens her mouth to him and he follows her, tasting her more fully. Tasting himself more fully.

“Fuck,” she whispers. “I feel like I’m close but also not at all.”

“I can take care of that.” Thancred says, kissing her forehead. He takes a deep breath and submerges beneath the water. She isn’t sure what he’s about until his mouth latches onto her clit, sucking as much as he can below. The fingers inside her curl

“Fuck,” she hisses again. They’re going to eviscerate her like this.

“Look at you.” Emet says, mouthing along her shoulder. "How easily you come apart. How eager you are to obey, and he is not half so dominating as I would be."

She moans–from his fingers, Thancred’s mouth, the implicit promise in Emet’s words. Nerys answers the challenge in them instead. “I-I know he’ll make it good for me. I d-don’t need that much encouragement.”

“Implying what? You aren’t so assured of me?” He catches her chin between thumb and forefinger, turning her head back towards him until it almost hurts. The edge of pain thrills down her spine, joining the rest of the heightened feelings in her. “I think you can accurately guess the heights I could drive you to.”

His breath tickles the corner of her mouth. At last she sees his eyes and the roaring fire they contain, the undisguised need and want. She gasps, not just from the increased thrusting of his fingers, the pressure and seal of Thancred’s mouth. If he had ever shown her that look before, she would have dragged him to bed and the consequences be damned.

Thancred emerges, taking a breath at the same time he slides his hand over the one Emet has on her face. Presses his mouth over the other man’s fingers before kissing Nerys like she is the oxygen he couldn’t have underwater.

His other hand slips between her thighs, direct and purposeful on her sensitive bud. His words pour into her ears–”yes, let go, let go, I want you to come like this, just like this”–and Emet’s fingers move faster inside her. With his wonderful, knowledgeable hand at her clit and his ragged words against her cheek, it doesn’t take long for her to come with a cry.

Thancred swallows her yell, her shaking prevented by Emet’s grip. For a moment, all she sees are the brilliant stars above them in the inky sky. The snow falling on her hair. The crescent moon, reminiscent of one of Emet’s toothier smiles.

Emet lets her go all at once and she collapses against Thancred, melting into his soothing touch. Her breath is loud in her ears, near as much as her heart slamming against her ribs and his against her ear.

“Good girl.” Thancred kisses the tip of her pointed ear. “Do you know what I would do for you, if we were in a different setting?”

She shivers, feeling the cold air for the first time since he put her in Emet’s lap. “Tell me. Please.”

“I would let you take us both, together, at the same time. Get you so stretched and wet for us, so slick...” The soft growl is back in his voice and she might climax again, just from that. As maple-sugar-sweet and poetic he can be, as worshipful as he may choose to be, this is a part of him too. Hungry and demanding.

“True, we cannot prepare her easily in this setting.” Emet says. “Very well, you’ve convinced me.”

There is a soft snap.

Nerys lies in a bed–her bed, in her room at the Pendants. She is warm and dry, not a drop of water on her. Warmer still from Emet, stretched out and pressed along her side, tracing patterns into her abdomen. (Also, the bed is made. The coverlet is far too expensive to come from the inn. She touches the red material in wonder.)

“Hilarious,” Thancred says from the center of the room. Naked and sopping wet, with all their belongings beside him in a careful pile. Emet would not harm their weapons, even if he might be unkind to Thancred’s person. “You might have dried me off too.”

“Hm…” Emet pushes himself on one elbow, the other hand tapping a finger to his lips. “If you fetch the oil from her bathroom cabinet, I shall dry you off.”

For a long moment, Thancred stares him down. Eyes narrowed. But there is no real ire and with a sigh, he makes for the bathroom. The aether lights flicker on as soon as he steps inside.

“How did you know...Emet-Selch! I said you’re not allowed to be here when I’m gone.”

She starts to sit up. Quick as any hunting animal, he braces his arm on the other side of her and swings a leg across. He leans over her, caging her in on all sides without touching her. Yet. “Yes, but I never agreed to those terms. Underhanded but...my hero did request surprises.”

Nerys puts a hand flat against his shoulder with the intent to push. His skin is warm beneath her palm, the silken feel of him unexpected. It would be so easy to shove him off, storm away from the bed. Except this is the first time truly looking at him since they began and...he has her trapped. Immolating in the pale gold fire of his eyes, mesmerized in the quirk of his brow and tilt of his full lips. The longer she stares, the more neutral his expression becomes and he returns the scrutiny.

There is no buffer. No Thancred to protect her or distract her. And she is afraid-

But not of him, she realises with a start. It’s the intensity I feel when he touches me. I’m scared of how much I want him to touch me again. I’m scared at how right this seems.

She pushes herself up with one hand, the other cups the back of his neck. Pulls him down to her. Emet stills only a moment before his eyes flutter shut and he submits to her, mouth moving soft and slow over hers. His hands curl about her waist, thumbs stroking over her skin. He savors her with the slow drag of his tongue coaxing her more open, more vulnerable to his ministrations.

When they part his eyes are half-lidded, expression utterly relaxed. He’s beautiful. He’s always beautiful. But this pierces her in a new way, so lovely he could rend her heart in two with one look. And he just might.

The hands on her hips pull her forward as he leans back. She ends up in his lap, straddling his waist in one fluid motion. Nerys reaches between them to stroke him. He has been patient this whole time, the least she can do is-

Emet catches her hand and lays the attached arm upon his shoulder, then the other. She opens her mouth to protest and he interrupts her with another kiss. Just as slow and aching, one arm hooked behind her back while the other traces fingertips along her jaw. His hand is gentle as it runs over her throat, down between her breasts, stroking circles into her waist and hip.

Nerys realises it is the longest he has gone in her presence without talking. And she feels the laugh bubbling up her throat, mouth trembling with the strength of holding it back.

“Laughing at me, hero?” He murmurs against her mouth. Nips her lower lip in reprimand.

“N-no I just...felt giddy all of a sudden.” Damn her, ruining the mood like that. Just as his hand was traveling down.

“Liar.” His scolding teeth sink into the side of her neck. She gasps against him, laughter dissolving into a breathy sound. “Better. Let’s see what other preferable sounds we can draw from you.”

“You’re getting close,” she says. Now her smile is irrepressible. “A little lower and to my left…”

“Dear, dear, dear,” he sighs. “And you were so obedient before. Do I bring out the minx in you so much?”

“I thought that was part of why you always came back to talk.”

Instead of a verbal riposte, his hand moves down and to her left. Circling her center, finding the clit and pressing down upon it. As if he has brought her to pleasure a thousand times and knows just where to touch.

Nerys buries her face in his shoulder, shuddering until his strokes are too much and she has to moan against him.

“What delicious noises you make, my dear.” He says, continuing to circle. Continuing to scrape his teeth over her skin. “Thancred was a fool to ever let you go.”

“I was.”

Nerys opens her eyes. (When did she close them?) Thancred stands a few paces from the bed, glass bottle in hand. Both of Emet’s hands splay against her back, pressing her close against him. She feels his fingers snap against her, drying Thancred in an instant.

“At least you admit it,” says Emet.

Nerys has to push a moment before he lets her lean back, getting a better view of Thancred. Shakes her head. “It wasn’t as simple as all that, or one person’s fault.”

As mad as she still is at the Exarch...she might have spoken to Thancred a dozen times before this week. Taken the aetheryte to Mor Dhona to see him, pull him aside when he joined their party in Gyr Abania. Or called him over linkpearl, as she did the night they almost lost Y’shtola.

He pushed her away after they found him in Dravania, even more after Minfilia. But she squandered opportunities, each a bright and alarming memory in hindsight.

Before Thancred can respond, Emet puts a hand to her cheek and makes her look at him. His free hand raises, wagging a finger in her face before tapping her nose. “Ah ah ah, don’t let him off so easy. Not when he is doing his best to make it up to you now…”

Nerys sees the moment a thought takes hold, curling the ends of his mouth upward, drawing his brows down. He flicks a glance over his shoulder. “Oh, is that it? Why you asked me to join?”

Thancred cloaks the soft, warm expression at Nerys with a scowl at Emet. “Don’t pretend to understand my motives.”

Emet clicks his tongue in mock scandalization. “Presumptuous of you, thinking you’re allowed to gift wrap and present me as an apology present.”

Oh.

Nerys extricates herself from his lap, climbing off the bed in a hurry. Walking to Thancred. Searching his closed-off expression for a hint. “Is...is that true?”

Thancred reaches out and takes her hand. Lifts it to his mouth. For all the things these two men have done tonight, for all the things they might still do; these soft touches disarm her the most. And then he removes the facade for her, showing the hope and wariness and the mocking little smile. One she knows is always meant for himself, not anyone else.

He sighs “He’s not wrong, but he’s also not right.” Thancred peers behind her at the bed. “But if Emet-Selch feels used, he is free to leave at any time.”

That last part doesn’t sound angry or annoyed as much as...challenging. She watches him smirk and quirk a brow. Daring the other man.

“Naughty boy,” Emet murmurs. “No, I won’t leave. This has proven to be an interesting night indeed and I am not satisfied yet.”

Nerys touches Thancred’s cheek, drawing his gaze back up to her. Looks him dead in the eye. “You don’t have to do this. Your feelings matter to me and-”

“I could have let him leave, and given you a memorable night without him. I decided I wanted to give you this instead.” The old roguish smirk grows on his lips. “And besides, he has a nice prick.”

She exhales slow, deep, making herself relax. Banishing the anxious tension in her neck and shoulders. “Okay. I believe you.”

“You always can.” Thancred draws her face down and she follows, sinking into his embrace. He still holds the bottle and it’s cool against her back as she presses against the delicious heat of his body and the hard planes of his chest. As he moves, so does she until the backs of her legs hit the mattress. Down, down, she goes until she is sprawled with her head and shoulders in Emet’s lap, Thancred holding himself above her.

“That last part,” Emet says, taking the glass bottle. “You couldn’t see my ‘nice prick’ in the water.”

“But I can see it now.” Thancred shifts his balance to one hand, the other sinking between Emet’s thighs. Sliding a hand over the long-neglected length and this time, Emet doesn’t forestall his own pleasure but lifts his hips. His full lips part and he sighs with relief.

Nerys tilts her head to look up at Thancred, who gives her an expectant look. This old game then. They haven’t played this one since the Spring Festival in Mor Dhona. She meets the challenge with a grin of her own and adjusts her position to better participate.

His fingers return to the root of Emet’s cock and slide upward. She chases them with her tongue along the velvet underside. The scents she associates with him–petrichor and ice and stone–are less here. He could be anyone she might bed.

Emet gasps and slides his hand into her hair. Guiding her as much as Thancred. The steady, near-painful pleasure is unlike many men she has taken to bed for a single night. Who often keep distance and treat her like glass. He is unlike anyone else.

The fingers twist over the swollen head and slip away for her to do the same, mimicking the motion with her swirling tongue. Emet increases pressure on her until he slides between her lips. Nerys bobs up and down without further incentive. That his grip remains insistent only makes this sweeter.

He is nearly as thick as Haurchefant, sure to make her jaw ache.

Another hand–Thancred’s–grips the back of her neck and nudges her down, down, her eyes watering as Emet fucks into her throat. Her nose meets the prickling thatch of auburn curls. Emet lets loose a more desperate sound, the groan raw as he pulls her off of him, fingers still digging into her scalp.

“Good girl,” murmurs Thancred.

“And good boy.” The hands in her hair twists, angling her to watch Emet take hold of Thancred and kiss him with teeth and tongue and heat. Arousal pulses through her at the sight. They’re beautiful. They’re beautiful and tonight they are both hers.

Nerys rises up, sliding into their tangle and they open for her, mouths and hands worshipping at her skin. She wants to be at the center of this. She wants to be selfish and feel them attend to every inch of her before they fuck her. She wants them to burn her until she is naught but ash and pleasure.

“I need you,” she says to them both. “Please don’t stop touching me.”

“Oh, my dear.” Emet catches her chin, sliding his thumb between her lips. “As if I-we could. You are a feast laid out for us and we are but beggars.”

She sucks on it, watching desire flare in his eyes. Emet sighs as if resigned, sliding his hand down so that he can kiss her again. The gentleness of it has her arms and neck prickling with awareness, her breath catching. Everything about him screams danger and yet–yet he coaxes her with lips and tongue, courting her instead of simply taking.

As if sensing her thoughts and needing to disprove her assumption, he turns her about in his arms. Bites down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Nerys gasps and Thancred is there to catch her, soothing her even as his own teeth drag over her pulse. Behind her is rustling and the soft pop of a bottle uncorked. She can hear Emet moving his hands together, warming his palms.

Thancred has not forgotten her request. As his mouth travels over her, his hands move in long strokes over arms and waist, hips and legs, neck and cheek. A dizzying perusal of caresses, maintaining the contact she needs.

She startles when Emet squeezes her rear, shivers when one oil slicked hand slides towards the tight ring of muscle. When the first finger begins to circle, Thancred kisses her shoulder. As it slides in to the knuckle, he strokes her sides.

“That’s it,” Thancred murmurs. “You’re doing so good. Look how wet you already are, ready for me to slide deep into you. And I will, as soon as he’s done preparing you.”

“My,” Emet says, kissing behind her ear. “He is a chatty one.”

“He is one to talk.”

“He must feel lost without some narration. Or is the talk for your benefit? Do you need me to tell you how good you’re swallowing me, how tight, how perfectly made for my fingers and my prick you are…”

Nerys means to laugh but a moan comes out instead. Digs her fingers into Thancred’s ivory locks and urges his lips downward. “I-I don’t need it but I like it.” She could have them talk to her like this for hours.

“Impatient,” Thancred mutters at her insistent pushing. He puts up a resistance, sliding his tongue over her stomach all the same.

“I don’t see you stopping me.” Nerys smiles down at him. “Unless you plan on making me pay?”

Teeth sink into her other shoulder as Emet adds a second finger. She wriggles against the sensation, tugging at Thancred’s hair in response. Quick, as if this is a battle–and maybe it is–Thancred grabs her wrists and pins them down on either side of her. Nerys grips at the unfamiliar coverlet, meeting his smirk with a scowl.

She tries to lift herself up, presenting herself for his mouth. He ignores the offering, attending to her breasts instead. Dipping down and then back up as soon as she thinks he might taste her. His grip is iron when she pushes against it, squeezing in warning when she does it again.

“Two strikes…” He says.

Now she has to know. Nerys tries a third time and finds herself dragged to lie on her back, his shoulders shoving under her thighs until they press against her stomach. Emet's slick hands leave her and she moans at the loss.

"You'll have him back in a moment." Thancred says. He glances up, has a wordless conversation with Emet behind her. Takes hold of her arms and lifts them, passing them over. Her wrists are shoved down, captured in the harsh grip of one hand pinning above her head.

It should be worrying that they are cooperating this well to make her writhe. Instead, she feels giddy and like she might dissolve from the force of anticipation..

She tests the restraint and finds no give, not even with her two hands to his one. Emet looks down at her, pitiless and expression bright with desire. And then her eyes shut because Thancred devours her. No mercy, no restraint, his hands gripping her thighs so tight they might bruise. He pushes her higher and higher until he thighs shake and she can see the edge-

And then he pulls back completely.

"Please," she gasps. "That's not fair. I need you-"

Emet’s face is upside-down above her, but he finds a way to slot his mouth against hers. She pours her frustration into the kiss, demanding release with a bite to his lip. He only chuckles against her mouth, his slow reprimand becoming something fierce. Engulfing.

When he parts from her, his lips but an ilm from hers, his eyes are unfocused and his breath ragged. She tastes his blood on her tongue. Licks her lips.

"Not yet," says Emet. "Not after we went through all the trouble of preparing you."

His hand is unyielding against her. Nerys tries to move her hips and legs instead and Thancred presses further, going the small distance needed to bend her in half. "I could come again after-"

“Listen.” Emet nips her shoulder. "We’ve staked a claim upon your pleasure. You’re going to have it...when we’re ready. Yes?”

Fuck. His words, his lowered voice...She would rub her thighs together if she could, if Thancred wasn't between them. Instead, she feels herself growing wetter, hotter. Thancred’s fingers slide over her but for all the lewd noises he draws out, he does not touch anywhere that might bring her release.

"Answer him, sweetheart,” says Thancred. "For once he is making sense."

“Yes,” she murmurs.

“What was that?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll do what you want me to.”

"Good girl," Emet says, the two of them moving her to sit up between them again. "That deserves a reward."

"Please tell me the reward is your cocks," she says, leaning back against him. "Otherwise, I don't think I'll make it."

"Impatient." Emet mutters but he drips more oil into her cleft, the three fingers returning to open her, stretch her. She braces herself against Thancred, half slumped over and cheek pressed against his heart. If she tries to touch herself, he will stop her but she considers it. Dares one hand down against her stomach. He grabs at it, kissing her as he does.

Nerys groans, rocking back against the fingers stretching her. Grasping for the peak Thancred almost brought her to.

"She's ready," says Emet at last, his voice rough. His hands dig into her cheeks, squeezing as he parts them. "Needy creature. Who knew you had it in you to desire so much?"

"I knew." Thancred kisses her shoulder. "He'll learn, sweetheart."

"That you think you can teach me anything…" Emet mutters. "Mortals. And their arrogance."

"Please," Nerys begs, her voice taut with need. She clutches at Thancred as an anchor against the sweet torture they’re putting her through. "You can lecture us all you want but first give me your-"

At that, his head presses against her. Rocks a moment before sliding into her oil-slicked passage, his hands stroking circles to soothe her as he enters slow and steady. When her breath hitches and the ache is almost too much, he stops and kisses her nape and spine until she relaxes again.

She’s trembling in his arms, overwhelmed at the fullness, the sensation of him deep in her, wrapped around her. His aether seems to sink into her, embracing her as if he has re-manifested all those phantom hands again. But it is just him, just a barrier taken down between them.

When she beds someone with strong aether...those times were just a shade of this. This is beyond anything she has ever experienced.

Emet skims his hands over her muscular thighs, hosting her close until his chin rests on her shoulder. She opens her eyes as he eases them back, watching the view trade Thancred for the ceiling and instinctively reaches out for balance. And then Emet kisses her neck and soothes her skin and she relaxes again.

"Well?" He says, holding her legs open. "She wants you too, Thancred.”

Thancred crouches between her thighs, running a hand over his cock. It has returned to its full aroused length, a tantalizing bead of moisture at the head. His refractory period is always impressive, and they have taken their time since the hot springs. Teasing her until she feels ready to burst.

"I wonder if you'll even physically be able to take it all." Emet says in her ear. "Stuffed as you already are."

He rocks his hips just so and she whimpers at the feel of him. It is true–she is already full to bursting. It is also true–she wants to take as much of them as she can. All of them if she is able.

“If it’s too much…” Thancred leans over her. Presses his cock against her folds as he lines himself up. “Look at me.”

She looks at him, into the warm depths of his eyes. Into the need and heat. Nerys lifts her hips in invitation and Emet is there to slide them back down, groaning softly.

“You know how to stop things, sweetheart. If it gets too much.”

“If it gets too much,” she repeats, licking her lips. “Thancred please fu-”

He slides into her without resistance, slick and ready as she is. It is almost too much and he isn't even half-way seated inside of her. She bites her lip so she doesn't say the word because she wants more, she wants to be utterly lost-

Emet bites the back of her neck and she cries out, but her body relaxes. Thancred slides deeper inside her, bracing his forearms on either side of them. Tension furrows between his brows.

“Alright?” He asks, more breath than sound.

“Yes,” she whimpers. “Please-please-”

"How sweetly you beg." Emet curls one hand around her breast, the other sliding down her stomach. Dragging to where Thancred is buried inside her and her swollen nub waits succor. He traces outside it, slow and taunting. "It almost makes me want to see how long we can keep you just shy of climaxing."

Thancred smirks. Some of the tension eases in his face. "Keep talking like that, it's making her clench around me."

"Bastards," she moans, reaching for Thancred. Resting arms on his shoulders as he begins to move, his slow, vexing strokes in rhythm with the lift of Emet's hips.

"Oh, do be nice," Emet continues as his fingers brush against her core. "I have only ever admired you. And here you are, exceeding all my expectations. You, who shine brighter than most mortals, you're almost radiant now-"

Nerys cannot think enough to string a response together. Sex is often a release for her, a way to center herself. This feels like...being remade. Like the tandem motion of their bodies strips everything away until there is only the pleasure and the ache. Even the growing cramp in her calves cannot compare with the ecstasy coursing through her.

They are both talking, dropping praise upon her but now she cannot hold onto their meaning. Only the feeling of them sliding in and out of her, the ache and stretch of her body, the slap of their skin on hers. Especially as the pace picks up, both men pushing each other to a greater tempo, snapping hips to drive her back and forth between raging fire and raging fire.

The fingers at her clit press down. The edge is in sight and she sobs aloud for them to keep going. To keep moving. Not to stop again, not when she is so close.

Thancred kisses her. Lips press against her nape and she can feel Emet's smile, his breath as he mouths words into her skin that she cannot hear and cannot parse. They move faster inside her, the finger circling, teeth on her flesh-

Nerys screams as her pleasure rips through her, clutching at whatever she can as her mind enters the strange place of release–a mind so focused on one thing as to feel almost blank, a mind so overcome with feeling that there is nothing but relief and pleasure and not a single thought. She gasps and arches and sobs as they work her through it, the frenzied rhythm milking every onze of pleasure from her

Emet gasps and she feels the final, desperate thrusts of his release. And Thancred, Thancred keeps going, keeps moving in her and moving her against Emet until they are both sensitive and depleted and keening and then, and then Thancred lets himself go.

Nerys is nothing but ash and pleasure, smoldering between them.

Emet moves first, lips pressing to her back as his hand traces patterns into her skin. Idle, swirling loops and flourishes that guide her back to the land of the living. She follows their trail without hesitation, her hand sliding over his as she follows.

She opens her eyes just as fingers slides over her cheek. Thancred leans over her, forehead pressed to hers. Studying her as if he has never seen her before. Maybe he hasn't. Maybe she is someone else on the other side of what they shared.

Maybe they all are.

He slides out of her and she whimpers at the loss, both of him and the heady sense of being filled completely. But he returns to her, resting his cheek against her the swell of her chest while the rest of him lies flush against her.

Nerys strokes his hair and finds the energy to speak. “Okay?”

"Okay," says Thancred. Smiles a little. "I don't ever want to move again."

A soft snort behind her. "Your time is short as is."

"Hush," she says. "You're not going anywhere either."

"Oh?" Emet kisses her shoulder. "Bold of you to-"

Despite what he just said, Thancred moves. Slides up and nudges Nerys just so until he is able to press his lips against Emet's. The Ascian hums in response, submitting to the delightful reprimand.

At last Thancred pulls away with a sigh. "Much better."

Emet chuckles. "So, you two plan on keeping me here tonight. Well, I put myself at your mercy...provided you let me lead the figure at some point."

"If you're good," Nerys teases, and then gasps as Emet rolls his hips against her.

“My dear,” says Emet. His hands slide up her stomach, cupping her breasts. She can tell from Thancred’s expression, they’re sharing a conspiratorial look. Anticipation and wonder sing through her. “Let me prove just how good a playmate I can be."

#nerys eluned #emet-selch #thancred waters #thancred x wol x emet-selch #thancred x wol #emet-selch x wol #thancred x emet-selch #ffxiv #duskwight warrior of light #dragoon warrior of light #elezen #water cw #ally writes

20 notes · View notes

whitherliliesbloom · 3 years

Text

birds of a feather

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #16 - crane ]

[ illya & friends ] ★ [ 1,847 words ] ★ [ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ] features ancientechos’ laurelis and two of my other ocs.

crane: a tall, long-legged, long-necked bird, typically with white or grey plumage

though their species varies as much as the colors of their plumages, birds of a feather flock the warrior of light together

“So...” Sigfred’s puzzled expression is framed by the furrowing of his eyebrows as he looks down at the young woman as she tries and fails to protectively shield her newest little companion away from his view. “You decided your aviary isn’t quite populated enough, did you?”

He says little, but the creature stood a good two feet taller than the comparably tiny lalafellin in front of it, the red tuff that crowned its head not helping it stay out of sight and unnoticeable either.

Of course, even if the peculiar thing hadn’t been almost the size of a small hyuran child or had striking plumage, it wouldn’t distract anybody from the fact that the lanky, majestic creature Illya had herded back home was yet another bird - a wild crane hailing from the far east.

“It wasn’t my decision to make.” Illya frowns, shaking her head while she idly raises her hand to rest upon the crane’s head, stroking it gently. “She just followed me back.”

“All the way from Yanxia?” The disbelief in his voice is his understandable, as is the skeptical crossing of his arms. He has trouble believing that a wild animal would doggedly tail Illya thousands of miles away from it’s natural habitat. Though his cynicism quickly fades when his scarlet eyes meet starlit ones, and he is reminded of the supernatural affinity the girl has with feathered creatures when a pigeon casually flutters over and lands on top of her head.

He cannot tell if the lack of the wild animal’s natural fear of people when it came to Illya was more absurd, or the fact that she seemed completely nonchalant about the way a bird was nesting atop her hair.

“Yes.” She answers, voice dipping slightly in pitch to convey her seriousness. “Hien had quite a struggle to chase her off the boat.”

Evidently, the Prince of Doma had failed spectacularly... and as if self-aware, the crane puffs it’s chest out and tilts her head high into the sky.

Next to Sigfred, the bard’s shoulder shakes in mirth, his loud guffaw echoing through the shroud of trees and causing the pigeon that had been peacefully resting on Illya’s head to flee, much to her unspoken chagrin.

“Gods, I’m not even surprised anymore.” Wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eyes, E’lija finally speaks in between choked laughter. “Illya brings home a new bird like every other day.”

Heat spreads across the young lady’s face, though as if sensing her embarrassment, the cockatiel that had been sitting quietly upon the branch of Illya’s wisteria tree flys over before landing on her shoulder, now nudging it’s head against her cheek.

“I-I... I don’t choose to, most of the time at least... Plus, if I take good care of them, there shouldn’t be a problem. Isn’t that right, Orion?”

The cockatiel bobs its head up and down, much to the utter shock of E’lija who throws his arms up.

“W-wha- It can understand her??”

Orion doesn’t spare even a second to pause before turning it’s head to lock his beady, round eyes upon the miqo’te before his beak parts to voice his detest towards the man who would embarrass his master.

“Piss off.”

“IT CAN TALK?!?!” E’lija so very nearly falls off his fold up chair, threatening to take the cups of coffee and biscuits onto the floor with him. “WHERE- Where did it learn that from???”

“.....Estinien.” Illya frowns, lifting her index finger to poke at the cockatiel’s forehead in disapproval. “He got into a fight... well... argument with Orion. It wasn’t pretty.”

She really should find a way to tactfully ask the man to cut his expletives down... or at least not feel the raging urge to get into a debate with a mere bird, lest she have a harder and harder time convincing people that she was not in fact the one responsible for teaching her pet cockatiel how to yell ‘Thal’s balls’ in a guest’s ear.

Sigfred merely hums, his hands stroking his chin as he narrows his eyes at the crane.

“What kind of crane is it, anyway? We didn’t see a lot of it’s kind back in Doma.”

“It’s a Manchurian crane - one of the rarest species of cranes in the world, I believe. It’s particularly highly revered in the far east... which was why I had to hide her below deck while we were sailing by Kugane.”

His interest piqued, the redhead straightens himself and adjusts his hat before leaning back into his seat.

“Why’s that?”

“Um... well, if I remember right, it symbolizes good fortune, longevity and immortality.”

E’lija has to stop his jaw from dropping so low that it’d collide with the table. Archons, and this apparently rare crane from the far east that represented god given virtues has now taken a liking to Illya so much it’d leave Doma to stalk her all the way back to Eorzea?

Internally, he wonders what sort of karma he must have to obtain such divine blessings.

With a clear of his throat, Sigfred steers the conversation back on track.

“So what now? What do you plan on doing next with it?”

“I-I.... I don’t... I don’t know? She’s stubborn... wouldn’t budge for anyone. I had thought maybe letting her see just how different the shroud is from Yanxia, she’d want to go home but...”

A hearty, more pleasant giggle rings out next to her, and Illya turns to look at a pink-haired miqo’te who she had assumed would be too pre-occupied with cuddling her baby dodo to have paid attention to her conversation with her other party mates.

Laurelis still is, to an extent... her arms wrapped tightly around the plump, round creature as it lets out an occasional squawk. But as usual, when it came to the topic of animal adoption and welfare, she was ever the first to jump to contribute to the topic.

“Why don’t you just adopt her then? You already know how to take care of other birds so... just one more won’t make much of a change, would it?”

That was the exact mindset that would lead Laurelis to have an ever growing household of cats and dogs that she’d find on her travels... but Illya thinks pointing out the irony to that would only get lost to her dear friend.

“Well... I... I have my reservations.”

Illya turns behind to look back at the crane as it stares intently back at her. Whatever that was going through it’s head, it certainly had no intention of returning where it came from... But that in itself was a bit of a problem.

“Manchurians cranes are an endangered species... I’m not sure I’m qualified enough to take care of one, let alone adopt and keep one for the rest of it’s life, when it should rightfully be wild.”

There was a drip of hypocrisy in her statement, certainly. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s had to shelter a wild animal only to be forced into a position of adopting it - and it didn’t just apply to birds either.

But caring and raising a species at danger of going extinct was an entirely different issue that she rightfully felt she had no place dabbling in - not without professional training, at least... and the twelve knows when she’d find an expert in the matter willing to teach her.

Ethical concerns aside, Illya also struggled to find a concrete reason for why she absolutely had to keep this beautiful creature in her home.

For most of the other animals she’d adopted, they had been rescued in some form or the other. Hazel for example, the brown sparrow that she had found with broken wings near Bentbranch Meadows a few summers ago. Though Illya had full intentions to release her as soon as she healed from her injuries, the little sparrow grew attached and has rarely ever left her side since.

She’d struggled to find an adopter who would be willing to take in her mobirdly obese chocobo chick Lawrence, due perhaps to their reservations in regards to providing for his demanding diet. And likewise, the hunting hawk that she’d met upon a pirate ship had been abandoned after losing it’s eye... and his protectiveness over not just herself, but anyone he knew to be someone Illya cared for, made it difficult to even find ways to put adverts for his adoption.

Illya had thought the reason why birds seemed to flock to and very often stay by her side had been for the simple fact that she’d saved them... and that their attachment to the one who saved them made it impossible for them to part from her.

The Manchurian crane however, would perhaps be the clearest proof that her affinity with birds was... unnatural, to say the least.

Not that she minded, of course... Because for as much as she would bring doubt to her own abilities to care for the animals under her care, she did secretly have a soft spot for birds that perhaps made it hard for her to give her feathered friends as much as it would be for them to find a new home.

“Maybe I could foster it for a while before bring it back to Doma.” Illya hums, but hears Laurelis whine pitifully in response.

“But she’s clearly attached to you! I’m sure she’ll be happiest by your side. At the end of the day, her happiness and wellbeing is the most important, right? I’m sure you’ll do just fine, Illya!”

The miqo’te points out, gesturing to the yard full of birds who roosted quietly - from Lawrence who was now rolling about in his little playpen full of sand, to Captain Blackbeak who sat vigilantly atop the purple mailbox decorated with golden leaves and stars that sat right outside her yard.

Illya hears hazel singing from where she sat on the roof of the pagoda, and the nudging of the crane’s beak against her face, as if both voicing their agreement for Laurelis’ words... and Illya lets out a heaving sigh that was copied comically by the cockatiel on her shoulder.

“I-I’ll think about it.” Though there’s still a hint of hesitation, the fact Illya was willing to even consider was enough to cause Laurelis to break out into a grin, lifting her hands up to clap in delight.

“Oh goodie! Now think of a name for her!”

“N-now??” With widened eyes of gleaming lavender stars, Illya parts her mouth and shakes her head frantically. “W-when I’m put on the spot like that I can’t--... I can’t think of anything-”

“Oh!” Evidently more than happy to suggest some ideas, E’lija blurts out. “I have some ideas! How about... Queen crane! Or... Immortal Nancy! Or-”

“Shut up stupid! Shut up stupid!”

Bouncing up and down, Orion squeals out, causing the bard to finally collapse off of his chair and spill his milk coffee, which Illya is certain that Lawrence would be more than happy to hop over and drink off the floor.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #illya skawi #laurelis #sigfred #e'lija #fanfic #mine #THIS WAS VERY VERY RUSHED AND I WANTED TO INCLUDE MORE DIALOGUE AND SCENES BUT #IM PRESSED FOR TIME I JUST CAME HOME FROM WORK AAAAA #i originally wanted to write about modern au involving an arcade with the crane game but lulun already did that ;w;#btw go read her fic its SO GOOD

2 notes · View notes

jenovahh · 3 years

Text

The Honey Pot - Ch. 19 - Tender

“Cid and I only want to help you, you know.”

It is almost noon, the sun high in the sky, but the day is surprisingly cool due to autumn beginning to settle in. Estinien is a furnace unto himself, your fingers trailing across the bare skin of his torso, drawing lazy patterns on toned muscle, your fingers tickling his abs. Held close like this in the aftermath of your coupling, you find that this tenderness is what you crave, and despite it being right in front of you, you cannot have it.

“I know.” You sigh, tucking your face into his neck, breathing him in.

“But…?” Estinien prompts, clearly not willing to let you weasel out of this.

“But...” You whimper, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw, gripping him tighter, your nude form pressed snugly against his own. What could you say that would keep you out of Varis’ sights? Keep Cid out of his sights? Your choker feels like a brand against your skin. “If you are so smart, how would you help me? I doubt you could come up with a plan to stop anything Varis can do.” You smile bitterly, tears in the corner of your eyes at the despair you feel.

Estinien stiffens for a moment beneath you, before releasing a slow breath. “I see.” Is all he says, and it is silent for a few minutes more. Times like these, you wish he did not speak so much, want so much from you. He wanted far more than you could give, both because you couldn’t risk his safety and because of your feelings.

Your feelings for--

“I should make you scream louder then, huh.” He chuckles and you smack him on the chest for even saying such a thing.

“You brute.” You can’t help but laugh, even a little bit.

“I think they prefer the term savage.” He smirks, tilting your face up to him. Your eyes immediately look to the far wall, not wanting to meet his own, knowing exactly you’ll find there. “Honey.” The adoration in his voice is enough to pull your gaze back to him, his eyes boring into your very soul. “There is nothing I would not do for you.”

Tears finally overflow, a sob breaking past your lips. “That’s the problem.”

Standing in Varis’ office, you have no choice but to stand there and be humiliated as your own moans and sighs are played back for you to hear. Your face is not red from embarrassment or shame, but instead a righteous anger that even your most tender moments must be used against you like this.

You wish you could go back in time and slap yourself silly.

Lips pursed together, you glare back at Varis, hiding nothing, hiding none of your absolute loathing for him. That loathing shifts into disgust when you swear there is a note of enjoyment in his features at listening to the playback. Reclining in his chair, he throws you a vile smirk as your conversation with Estinien plays over the computer speakers.

“What had you called the bodyguard earlier? A friend?” He asks, twirling your choker between his fingers.

“I don’t believe I hesitated.” You ground out, parroting his own phrase back at him.

“This sounds far too personal for something as trivial as friendship.” He gleams, placing the choker back on his desk. “Do not think I did not see your attempt to protect him.”

Your heart seizes in your chest, body going stiff as time seems to freeze for a moment.

“You’re bold, little savage, to go against orders from your superior.” Varis’ tone is completely absent of any amusement, his golden eyes staring you down.

Fear stills your tongue, makes you question your actions and it is not fear for yourself; it is for Ardbert, for Cid, for Estinien--

“I-It is because perhaps I do feel something beyond just friendship for him.” While meant as a lie to try and appease him, you startle yourself with how much truth the statement carries. “In that moment I was not thinking of your orders, and only of my...feelings for him. To protect him.”

Varis studies you for a moment, before that sleazy smile returns to his face. “I see.” He chuckles, relaxing once more. “In that case, I will excuse this mistake, so long as it is the last. Am I understood?” You nod, which seems to please him. “Good. I will admit, I was growing...apprehensive at the sudden turnaround of your relationship with Zenos. But with this confirmation of your feelings for that savage, I believe things will resume according to plan.” He tilts his head slightly, pinning you with a pitying look. “Savages should breed with savages after all.”

Taking a deep sigh, you clench your fists tightly at your sides to keep your anger in check. “Is there anything else, sir?”

“Is there anything else, my lord.” He corrects, brows furrowed. “And no, you are free to go.”

You cannot turn on your heel fast enough to get out of there.

As tempted as you are to slam the door behind you, you allow the lock to gently click shut, power walking down the hall as fast as you can. It is entirely too early in the day for you to feel as stressed as this, and it is well past noon. Due to Varis’ orders, you have no need to go anywhere near Zenos and this is the only time you’ll ever feel gratitude for the monster that is Varis zos Galvus. The last person you want to see right now is his son, at least, not before you can take care of all these hickeys.

Never could you have predicted that taking on this mission would mean that your love life would also be in jeopardy. Gone were the problems of a guy not texting back or breaking your heart altogether. No, now you had to deal with pretty, rich boys and prickly bodyguards who treated you right.

You could already hear Y’shtola’s admonishing tone for even thinking of choosing Zenos over the man who actually treated you like you deserved. Had Lyse known about Zenos and what he did to you, you were sure that she would give him a piece of her mind. The thought makes you shudder, because while Lyse was also a trained fighter, you knew she could never lay a hand on Zenos.

No one could.

Grumbling about nothing in particular, you spend the rest of your day off watching whatever is on your tablet, filtering through cute cat videos and recipes you would never get to try. Before you know it, the sun has already set, and you’ve missed dinner, but it's not like you had much of an appetite anyway with how the day’s events played out.

Shrugging, you pull yourself from the comfort of your bed to pad to your bathroom to turn on the shower, needing to give it a few moments for the water to warm up with fall’s chill settling in. Heading back into the bedroom to grab a fresh towel, someone knocks on your door and you wonder who it could possibly be this late in the evening. Stepping to the door, you slide it open, gasping as you come face to face with a tattooed chest.

Following that tattoo upwards you meet an ice cold gaze, glaring down at you with the strength of Coerthan blizzard. “Zenos, what is,”

Saying nothing, he takes a single step forward and you take one back, letting himself into your room without permission. The door slides shut behind him, and you watch as he reaches a hand past his back to lock it shut. Trepidation fills you as you stare up at him, noticing how he’s already seemed to be dressed for bed. He wears a loose, silken robe, maroon in color, his hair loose around his shoulders. He wears no shirt underneath, and you bring your eyes back up before you can find the chance to see if he wears no pants either.

“It’s rude to barge in,” You try to start, but he takes another step towards you, reaching for the collar of your shirt. Acting fast, you quickly dodge his grip, spinning out of arm’s reach and closer to the bed. “What do you want?” You ask, gulping as you see no way out. There’s no way you’re getting past him and out the door without making a scene, and the circumstances aren’t so dire you need to break out your window.

He glares at you still, practically prowling toward you as he holds your gaze. “Why weren’t you at dinner?” He asks, and the question seems so random, you forget to keep distance between the two of you.

“Why does it matter?” You huff, crossing your arms across your chest. “I just forgot; after dealing with your shitty father, I wanted to just sit and enjoy the rest of my day without all of…” you gesture vaguely between the two of you, “this.”

Frowning, he pauses, a hand reaching to grab one of the bedposts as he gives you a heavy lidded look. “My father? What has he bid you to do this time?” He asks, the question innocent enough. You quickly debate on whether you should tell him though, given that his father hasn’t apprised him of his plans for you. Especially given that they involve Estinien--

“He sent me to collect information, as usual.” You reply, giving him a nasty look. “He was just especially shitty about it today.”

Zenos seems to consider that for a moment, almost mulling it over. “I see.” He takes another step toward you and suddenly you are aware of just how much distance he has covered between here and the door.

“Well if that’s all you wanted, you’re free to leave,” you continue backing away from him, checking behind you to make sure you don’t bump into anything. Edging away from the bed, you head toward the closest wall, the steam from the bathroom caressing your skin. “I was getting ready to shower and sleep for work tomorrow, and it seems you already have as well. I think we’re done here--”

“Oh, my beast.” He chuckles darkly, voice as thick as sin. “We are far from done.” He hasn’t stopped his advance on you, your mind addled from the day’s events to realize you had backed yourself right into the bathroom. His height allows him to nearly bump his head against the door frame, his broad shoulders nearly touching the sides. Stepping in, he shuts that door behind him too, trapping you both inside.

“W-What do you want?” You ask, voice trembling much like your body is, gasping as your lower back makes contact with the sink. With nowhere to go, Zenos stands before you, all muscle and good looks and gods, he smells so good--

“You’ve been with the bodyguard again.” It is an accusation instead of a question, a statement instead of an inquiry. Shame floods through you at this, cursing yourself for feeling trapped in this spot. To say you didn’t want to be with Estinien was a lie. To say you did was also a lie. You couldn’t tell the truth, not without putting Estinien or your own feelings at risk.

“So that is what my father put you up to, then.” Zenos murmurs, his hands resting on either side of you, gripping the shining porcelain, leaning into your personal space. You can feel his sigh against your cheek as his eyes jump across your face. The anger is still present in his eyes, though you notice it does not seem to be directed at you anymore, at least. But then…

“Please don’t...hurt Estinien,” You beg, but he shushes you with a finger on your lips, the action surprisingly tender as he continues to hold your gaze in silence. You stand there as he gazes at you, pinning you with a look so possessive it steals your breath away.

“How cruel are you to say another man’s name in my presence.” He mumbles, pressing his thumb against your lips, as if to test their softness. “No, I will not harm him. If there is anyone you should be concerned about harming him, it would be father.” As he leans forward you close your eyes, whimpering as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And if there is anyone you need to be worried about me harming...it would be father.”

Frowning, you reach out for his robe, enjoying the silk in your hands as you grip it tight. “I can protect myself.”

“This is true.” he whispers against your skin, his hand leaving your lips to instead snake around your waist and pull you against him. “But you cannot protect others from my father.”

You can already feel his arousal against your stomach, and though it is only half hard, it is impressive nonetheless. An ache of your own begins to grow between your legs, thighs clenching together as your body tries to press into his. Tilting your chin up, Zenos dips his head to press a kiss to your lips, biting down on your bottom lip in a way that has you melt into him instantly. Your hands clutch at him frantically to loop around his neck to bring you closer to him, needing to feel more and more.

Groaning, his hands immediately seek out your pants, pulling you off the sink enough to push them down your thighs, fingers grazing your already sensitive skin. You use your own to push his robe aside, exposing his chest as best you can while you kick your pants off as he works to shove your panties down as well. “Zenos,” you whine and he growls in return, hands hastily reaching for the hem of your shirt to wrench it over your head, taking no gentleness in the action that leaves your shoulders hurting for a moment.

You’re not in pain for long, his lips pressing kisses from your lips to your jawline, setting every nerve on fire in its wake as he trails down your neck where Estinien’s own marks lie. The force at which Zenos sucks on your skin is almost forceful, a mix of pain and pleasure as his hands work to divest you of your bra and dump it on the bathroom floor. Now naked, he grabs you by the hips and hikes you up onto the sink, placing himself between your legs and pulling you to him so you can feel his full hardness.

The way he nestles against your core is absolutely divine, your head rolling back as he continues to overwrite Estinien’s marks with his own. Feeling like things are unfair, you dig your blunt nails into his skin, wanting to leave some kind of mark of your own; after all, he did say he was yours as much as you were his.

Now that he has you naked, he’s feeling more agreeable to your hands trying to divulge him of his robe, his arms leaving you just long enough to get out of his sleeves before they are bringing you closer again. His hands immediately seek your breasts, squeezing and kneading, showing none of the initial gentleness he had just a night ago. His fingers pinch your nipples so deliciously it has you nearly jumping off the sink, your hips grinding along his length as you fight to get his robe all the way off.

To your surprise, you find that he was not wearing any underwear.

Face heating, you pull away from him as the robe falls to the floor, getting a good look at his length, before meeting his eyes. He arches a brow silently and you clear your throat before speaking what was on your mind. “Do you, uh...not sleep with pajamas?” You ask, watching as he huffs out a dry laugh.

“It depends.” he offers vaguely, humming as you take his dick in hand, feeling its satiny smoothness, its warmth and its desire for you. His hips jerk forward as you circle your hand around his cock, smearing the precum on the head before bringing your fingers to your lips to taste. It is salty as expected but you do not mind, eyes glazing over with lust as he brings his lips to yours to taste himself.

Your heart thuds in your chest as his hands rove your body, squeezing and gripping fiercely, yet so tenderly, that you don’t know what to think. The rush you had felt that night at the hotel as absent, and its place is something more...more…

Personal.

Too personal in fact.

Aware of this fact, you unconsciously try to pull away from him but he won’t let you go, pressing you further into the sink as he sinks his teeth into your skin. “Zenos,” you whine, your body wanting him, but, the way he holds you, it is not the way an enemy would. He does not hold you like one would in a one night stand with their boss. He does not hold you in the way a friend or a lover would.

He holds you like you belong to him, and him alone.

The thought alone tugs at your heartstrings, and you grip him that much tighter for it. “Don’t do this…” you whisper, not intending for him to hear, but he does.

“Do what?” he asks, licking a line between your breasts before he pulls you tight against him, hoisting you up from the sink. Your thighs tighten around his hips immediately as he walks you both to the still running shower, the spray washing over you both.

“I...I thought we weren’t lovers.” Is the only thing you can say without giving your own feelings away. Try as you might, you can’t tear your eyes away from how the water runs over the grooves of his chiseled form, his skin glistening before you as his hair sticks to his chest. Somehow his eyes are that much clearer here, an emotion you can’t name laid bare in his eyes, the intensity of it sweeping you away.

Grunting, he presses you against the wall of the shower. “We are not.” He agrees, reaching beneath you, trusting that you won’t allow yourself to fall. Taking his cock in hand, he fits the head past your lower lips, your breath hitching as he slowly feeds himself inside. “But you do belong to me.”

You hadn’t realized how ready you were for him, how wet you were that he meets little resistance as he pushes his cock deep inside you. Your head thumps against the shower wall as he pushes in ilm by ilm, your nails digging much more harshly into his perfect skin. He rests his forehead on your shoulder, breath hot against your skin despite the warmth of the water, a shuddering moan escaping him, your mind committing the sound to memory.

Something about this moment, makes you feel much more naked before him than you had ever felt previously.

Zenos had always been smart, always keen, as evidenced by him figuring out how his father was blackmailing you with you hardly having to say anything. He did not hae to say it, but you could sense he knew. He was able to read you like a book most days, to the point it was almost scary. That someone so vastly different from you could see right through you, begged to be believed. Underneath the spray of the shower, you feel as if all fronts are washed away, leaving the two of you raw with feelings neither of you know what to deal with.

Looking into his eyes, something in your heart yearns for him, your hands leaving his neck to cradle his face. Running your fingers along his skin, he remains silent under your inspection, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers graze across his lips, his nose. He truly was beautiful, all hard lines and soft edges, and undoubtedly yours. This man, this murderer, this monster, considered himself yours..

When you kiss him, it feels like you can’t get enough.

It is slow and heady, the feeling of his lips moving against yours, tongues dancing together as he fully hilts himself within you. He feels as perfect as he did the first time, your hands leaving his face to tangle in his wet hair, his grip on your thighs strengthening to hold you in place as he moves his hips to pull out before pushing back in, so slowly as if he is trying to carve out his place in your very being. Chest to chest, you moan into his mouth, your own hips trying to meet his thrusts but he holds you still, content on doing all the work.

“You’re so…” You rasp, taking your turn to trail kisses down his jawline, able to do nothing else since words fail you. Every part of his body you touch feels perfect, and you wonder how someone so awful could look how he does, hold you how he does.

“I know I forgot to ask last time…” he grunts, snapping his hips rather forcefully, burying his face into your neck, licking at the water that runs down your skin. “But you are on a contraceptive…?”

You nod, rolling your hips in a way so sweet he can’t help but groan. His hips snap into you again and you moan without shame, arching your back into him as he clutches you as if you’ll disappear. “Good. Because I’m not stopping. Not until it is clear to anyone with eyes just who you belong to.”

“Shouldn’t you have asked before,” Your quip is cut short as he gives a firm slap on your ass, the sting of his hand fading as he kneads the flesh, seeming pleased.

“Shut up, Honey.” He whispers, taking the time to meet your eyes, stealing another kiss as he begins to finally pick up the pace. Your ankles lock behind his back, holding you to him as his hips piston into your own, your sheathe so wet that he slides in and out with minimal resistance. His cock feels like it was meant for you and you alone, and the truth of that statement is enough to shake you to your core.

In your daze, you cup his face once more, meeting his stare, unafraid. “Say it again.” You demand, though with your lustful voice it sounds more like a plea. “Say my name again,”

“Honey.” He breathes, a realization shining in his eyes as if the very sound your name is magic. “Honey.” He repeats, pressing his forehead against yours, eyelids sliding shut as all his focus enters his third eye. “Honey.” The reverence that suffuses his voice makes you hold him tighter, to where air could not possibly pass between the two of you.

Reaching between you, he plays with your clit, increasing your pleasure as he fucks you. Your moans turn into high pitched cries of faster and more, kisses feverish as if the world is falling down around you. Paired with his fingers on your clit and his cock pounding you, it does not take you much longer to come undone, his name a prayer on your lips as you find your release. With your body gripping him so tightly he follows soon after, his seed shooting deep inside you as he moans your name against your skin.

The water has long since gone cold, something you thought impossible in this house, but you suppose you have been at it for awhile. The two of you stand beneath the lukewarm spray, a shiver racking your body as you keep close to Zenos for warmth. You both stand there in silence, unsure what to say, lest things get more complicated and this moment ruined.

Lowering your legs to the floor, you stand on wobbly feet much like a newborn fawn, the Galvus heir’s cum sliding down your legs, washed away by the spray of the shower. Shivering again, you press closer to his warmth in a rare show of weakness, the action making him go stiff before an arm reaches around your shoulder to hold you close. You feel his chin rest atop your head, the two of you standing there on the precipice of the unknown.

Gaining a courage you do not feel, you look up at him, finding he is looking right back. His hand brushes strands of your wet hair from your face, examining you much like you did to him earlier.

If you were asked who was the first to close the gasp and start that next kiss, you wouldn’t be able to answer.

As dawn breaks on the horizon, you groggily try to turn over to catch a few more precious minutes of sleep, confused as you find you cannot turn over at all. Thinking yourself tangled in your sheets, you kick your feet out to try and right yourself, only to have your toes brush against someone’s legs. Someone’s bare legs.

Gasping, the night comes back in a rush as you come face to face with Zenos’ sleeping one. That you have woken up before him is shocking enough in and of itself, considering he is always the first to wake and be ready to train every morning. His arm is like a steel band around you, his even breaths atop your head warm and soothing. Like this, no one would ever think him a monster, his face the very picture of peace.

Without thinking, you reach to press a small kiss to his lips, able to fully appreciate their silken texture now that you’re not in the throes of passion. The moment doesn’t last for long however, a sigh passing his lips as he holds you a little tighter and kisses you back. Despite the two of you being nude and pressed against one another, the kiss remains surprisingly chaste, simply enjoying the taste and feel of the other this early in the morning.

Seemingly satisfied, Zenos gives you a smug grin as he finally opens his eyes. “Good morning, my beast.”

Twelve above, what have you done?

“Good morning, Zenos.” You respond burying your face in his chest, unwilling to show him anymore than you already have. You’ve been vulnerable enough for a lifetime, you think.

“We should start our day, should we not?” He hums, giving you a firm squeeze. “As unopposed I would be to keep you in bed with me, we still have work to do.”

While a day in bed with him sounds wonderful, it makes you concerned for how much your feelings have changed. “Well, I’m in my room. You’re the one who has to do the walk of shame back up to your room.” You say with a rude snort, trying to pull away from his hold but he’s not willing to let go of you quite yet.

“It is hardly a walk of shame, my beast. It would not be the first time the staff have seen me stumble through my home naked after a night of fine drinks and fine women…” he mumbles into your neck, pressing a kiss there. This was getting way too personal, too fast. “I would not doubt that a few of them are winning some fairly large prize pools based on last night.”

You push on his chest to get yourself far enough to throw him an incredulous look. “A prize pool? Like a betting pot?”

Grinning as he snuggles into the pillow, the look he gives you is almost dreamy. “The greatest ‘will they or won’t they’ so I’ve heard. I suspect you’ve made quite a few maids happy.” He pauses to stretch, deeming it time to finally get out of bed. “It would not be the first time I’ve caught wind of my employees making bets upon my personal life. I suspect there will be a new bet soon enough.”

You don’t even want to begin thinking of what the staff could possibly be making bets on, knowing that it would never spell any good for you. Clutching your sheets to your chest, you watch as Zenos swings his legs out the bed, unbothered by his nudity at all. Your eyes immediately latch onto the sight of his ass, hand itching to release the bed sheet you hang onto so dearly and slap his backside much like he did to yours last night.

“I think you left your robe in the, uh, bathroom.” You cough, quickly averting your eyes as he circles the bed to go retrieve his silk robe. Now that he’s at least got some cover, it's far easier to look at his face, though that seems to only get your heart racing. “I will meet you in the gym, as usual.”

“Of course.” He purrs, giving you a sultry look as he makes his way toward the door. Pausing, he tosses you a smirk over his shoulder. “Though, feel free to let me know if we need to cancel today. I will be more than understanding if you find yourself unable to walk.”

You sit there gaping like a fish before your mind can formulate a response, cursing his name as you toss a pillow at the door just as it shuts. Grabbing another pillow you scream into it in frustration, legs kicking as you try to calm down. If he was going to be this egotistical every time you slept with him, you’d honestly just stop altogether.

Once you’ve calmed down, you sigh and finally roll out of bed yourself. Heading to the bathroom, you head to the shower to turn it on, spinning around immediately to make sure the door to your bedroom is locked this time. Your thighs are still sticky and gross from your all night session with your boss, and you can already hear Y’shtola’s judgemental sigh of disapproval.

With the water nice and hot, you step inside and release a blissful sigh, all the aches and pains and a certain soreness melting away. Hopefully it would be just another day sitting at the office as Zenos signed papers and made phone calls, giving you time to rest after he saw fit to nearly kill you with pleasure the night prior.

Now alone, you allow yourself to actually reflect on last night, the spray of the water putting you in a trance as it takes you back to your time with Zenos. His hands on you, almost worshipping your body, the surety of how he handled you as if he already knew how you liked it. The way he looked into your eyes as he sheathed himself inside you, as if you were the only person who ever mattered to him.

You wondered if he even knew what he was doing, knew the weight of his gestures, his staring, and how it was terrible for your heart.

There was not a shadow of a doubt that Estinien wanted to be more than friends with benefits; that he genuinely cared for you romantically, and wanted to give you more than just a sparring session on the weekend occasionally sprinkled with sex. Estinien was a man who deserved far more than just a weekend fling and a tussle in the sheets because you were too afraid to confront your feelings about your boss.

But now that you’ve also done the deed with Zenos, where did this leave you? Zenos couldn’t possibly be looking for anything such as commitment; in fact, you’re positive he’d laugh in your face for suggesting such an idea. But his feelings of possession were so strong you knew if you even dared to pursue anything permanent with Estinien, Estinien’s life would be forfeit.

Telling Estinien to back off for his own safety would be the proper thing to do, were you not trying to protect him from the son of a mafia boss.

With your thoughts getting nowhere fast, you decide it’s best to stop thinking about it, at least for now. Turning off the shower, you hop out to go and dress for the day, deciding to actually take Zenos up on canceling training.

A decision you would come to immediately regret.

“You want me to what?”

“I don’t believe I hesitated.” Varis sighs, flashing his son a bored look. Zenos, however, looks absolutely livid. “You will be shadowing me today.”

“But I am your son’s bodyguard! His!” You insist, resisting the urge to stamp your foot. “I told you that if I was looking to change my career path, I would talk to you!”

“I am not only your employer, but also the face of the company, I get to make the executive decision of overriding my son’s wishes of keeping you.” Varis replies in that even tone despite his son looking like he’s ready to slice his head clean from his shoulders. “I believe the two of you are in need of...some time apart.” He huffs distastefully, giving his son a once over. “Really, boy. A plethora of women to use at your leisure and you choose...the help.”

Zenos doesn’t back down, stepping to where he’s eye to eye with his father. “And you constantly choose to take things from me.”

Varis gives a slight shrug of his shoulders, crossing his hands behind his back. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have such refined tastes. I deserve only the best, and if I must take it from you, so be it.” Side stepping Zenos, Varis heads for the door. “Livia will be your bodyguard for the time being. Honey, come along.”

Glancing between Varis’ retreating form and Zenos, you can only give Zenos a worried look, though for him or for yourself, you are unsure. Deciding to just deal with it, you follow Varis out the door, becoming his shadow. A bunch of questions lie on the tip of your tongue, but you decide it is best to lie in wait and speak until spoken to for fear of saying the wrong thing or revealing something accidentally.

Opening the car door, Varis steps inside, taking a seat. Before you can make a move to shut the door and head for the passenger side, his hand grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Where are you going?”

Frowning, you answer him simply. “To sit in the front seat.”

“And can you protect my life effectively in the front seat?” He asks, tugging surprisingly hard to pull you face first into the car. Quickly gaining your bearings, you sit up right, closing the door as gracefully as possible.

Unable to hold back any longer, you glare at him. “Why are you doing this?” You ask, though it comes out more like a demand. Varis however, looks undeterred by your hostility, crossing one leg over the other, steepling his fingers together in his lap as is his habit.

“As I had said before, savages should breed with savages.” He replies with a roll of his eyes, the action only making you angrier.

“Is this really about me fucking your son?” You can’t bring yourself to care about your cover when this monster has little care for your privacy. At this point, you’re surprised how he hasn’t found out you’re a cop yet for how fucking nosy he’s been.

“It is. I had hired a bodyguard to protect his image. Not to be a bedmate.” He sniffs, looking down his nose at you. You hardly feel the car pull away from the estate as he continues, “I was willing to look the other way if was to be a ‘one night stand’ as it were, but clearly I must keep you apart.”

You can feel the leather squeak and stretch under your grip as your nails bite into the seat, teeth clenched together as you are floored by the sheer audacity of this man. “And what about all that talk of ‘wanting the best’? Did you lie to your own son?”

“I have never lied to him. I have never needed to.” He huffs, relaxing fully now that you have exited the grounds. “I have never feared my son for despite his monstrous nature, I know he will never turn against me. I instilled in him since birth that we deserve only the finer things in life, but myself most of all. After all, it is due to my own work that he can live the lifestyle he craves.”

Confusion stills your anger for a moment, and you get the sinking feeling of something deeper running between father and son. “W-What do you mean?”

“Really, savage, do you think Zenos could live the way his heart desires as a common citizen?” Varis scoffs, once again rolling his eyes. “He cannot kill me, for once he does, his ability for The Hunt as he calls it, ends. All of my primary assets such as the company will belong to him upon my death, but for our more...underhanded dealings, they will remain out of his grip. I know he would only squander what I had worked so hard to build.”

Letting that sink in, you find that your anger has left you entirely, replaced entirely be sheer disbelief. “Do you...do you even love your son?”

Varis arches a single brow. “Why would I?”

What you had prayed was one day had turned into two, into four, into one week, into two weeks. Everyday, you woke at dawn, no longer allowed to train with Zenos, instead forced to do your morning exercises outside despite the temperature steadily dropping as autumn slowly took its hold on the city. Zenos had seemed to be sent out of the house more often as well, always doing his father’s bidding. What glimpses you caught of him were few, and when you did meet his eyes, they were so emotionless it broke your heart.

Being Varis’ bodyguard was every bit demanding as Zenos had warned it would be, your body exhausted from the first day alone. Everyone who was not Varis himself was seen as beneath him, and therefore subject to do anything he asked. From the most outrageous such as dislocating the wrist of a new subordinate who had forgot to address him “properly”, to simply pouring a fresh cup of coffee if his current one had gotten too cold for his liking.

Varis’ hours were not nearly as late as Zenos’ , meaning you got the chance to have more sleep, for what good it did you. As soon as you were finished with dinner, you would rush to your room and jot down notes about Varis that could hopefully be used against him in court. Miserable as you were, you had to remind yourself this was the chance you were looking for, no matter how much you hated it. You had learned Varis had little to do with his own gang, seeing fit to delegate others to handle matters for him and punishing them for their failures. It was a blessing in disguise that you at least did not have to go out and maim lesser gangs for no reason, but that did not make things you had seen any less horrifying.

Some days it seemed like Varis was trying to impress you, occasionally slipping you fine things such as a pocket watch glittering with diamonds, or treating you to lavish lunches with only you and him seated at a table. While disgusted, you knew there was nothing you could do to get out of this situation, sitting awkwardly as he would ramble on how he grew to be so successful. You couldn’t understand what he could possibly be trying to impress you for, seeing as he had split you and Zenos apart since you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

Seeming to realize that his usual methods of impressing women were failing, Varis decided to be awfully cryptic about his plans for this night.

“You’re showing me...what exactly?” You ask, the city streets far behind you as you once again enter a more suburban part of town. The sight is much more familiar than the sprawling gardens and three story mansions you’ve gotten used to since the start of this job.

“I realized that perhaps my prowess would not truly dawn on you until I had shown you something much more...substantial.” Varis hums, a smirk on his face as the car pulls toward an unknown road.

Something in your gut tells you that whatever he is about to show you is going to make you sick. “And what would that be?”

Chuckling darkly, he pins you with a fierce look. “I think I will let it speak for itself.”

The road quickly turns into rocky gravel, and despite you riding in a luxury car, you hardly feel a change in the terrain. Tall trees begin to sprout up all around you, the sinking feeling in your gut growing deeper as you wonder if maybe Varis has finally found out you’re a spy and is here to kill you.

Coming around the bend, a massive warehouse sits alone in the forest, seemingly abandoned but you noticed that every single window is blacked out. It is strangely lacking in cars, and yet you see a smoke stack that is huffing out chemicals just fine. Looking around, you notice a handful of black vans, their windows tinted so darkly, that no one would be able to tell if there were any passengers. A large wire fence surrounds the entire compound, taking notice that while it seems pretty shady at first glance, taking a closer look you can spy armed guards around the perimeter.

The car is allowed through the gate without being made to stop, the driver pulling up to the closest door. Parking the car, the chauffeur shuffles out and hurries to open your door, clearing his throat when you don’t realize you had been staring for far too long. Scrambling out the car, Varis elegantly steps out behind you, placing a hand on your back far too low for comfort. “Come. Let me show you just how powerful I really am.”

Clamping down on your instinct to dig your heels into the dirt, you allow Varis to nudge you forward, his hand on your back the entire way as the door opens before you. Cold air sweeps over your face, your eyes struggling to adjust to the incredibly low light of the first room. Stepping in, you notice a small receptionist window to the side, Varis standing before it and giving a small nod to the man inside. A loud buzz sounds as well as the sound of several latches unlocking, and an armed guard opens the steel door before you.

Nudging you forward again, you pass through, the door immediately slamming shut behind the two of you. You find yourself at the base of metal stairs that lead to a walk way that circle the perimeter of the warehouse. A pungent smell fills your nose, smelling similar to ceruleum, but worse. Gasping you watch as a handful of workers tend to multiple machines, and truly take note of how large the warehouse -- no -- factory, really is. It expands further underground, huge vats of boiling, blue liquid swirling below you.

“Welcome, to the Aetherochemical Research Facility.” Varis takes the lead by heading up the stairs, and you follow close behind, the guard following right behind you.

“Aetherochemical…?” You ask, unable to take your eyes away from the sight. The employees working the machines are dressed from head to toe in hazmat suits, goggles reflecting the flames.

“There are strange forces at work in this world, Honey.” Varis begins with no small amount of dramatic flair. “Things that should be impossible, that are written off as happenstance. Luck. The universe at work, and so on and so forth.” As you walk along the balcony, you notice toward the higher rungs of the factory there seems to be a set of assembly lines, whatever substance that lay in the goo being deposited into cube shape moulds and sent down the line. “When I was young, being a child of Garlemald, my family had written off such things. After all, our ancestors were never able to use magic compared to myths of other races, and thus, did we write off its existence entirely.”

He pauses to face you, giving you a triumphant smile. “But I knew better.”

Turning back toward the assembly line, he gestures to two of the large cauldrons holding the mystery goo. “Within these vats is a substance once thought impossible. One comprised entirely of aether.”

Confused and concerned, you take a closer look, noting that it does have an unnatural shine to it. “Aether…?” You prompt, grabbing onto the railing to steady yourself.

“Believe it or not, our world is composed of a thing called aether. It is in the very air, the earth, the water. It controls all living things. Ancient legends from savage cultures say that once we pass from this world, our bodies become the aether we once were, and our souls return to something called the Lifestream.” He continues on, resuming his walk further down the balcony. “Unfortunately, due to the lack of research, harnessing its capabilities is still near impossible. The forebears of savages did not think to document their magics and manipulation of aether, and thus, have I had to do everything from scratch.”

Unsure what to say, you swallow thickly, trying your best to look even slightly in awe. “This is...more impressive than I first thought.”

He buys the bait, and you swear you can see his chest puff out the teeniest bit. “It is good that you think so. It is my life’s work.”

Try as you might, you cannot stop yourself from needing to know more. “This...aether. Are you turning into a fuel source? Or something else?”

Varis gives a single chuckle at that, golden eyes pinning you fiercely. “That is classified.”

Nodding, you turn back to the scene before you, feeling as if you stand at the feet of something far greater than the police force could have ever realized. “If that is so, why tell me all this?”

It is silent for a moment, until you hear him approach you once again. His features are that much harsher in this dark factory, making him look truly vile.

“Because it would mean nothing to me to simply kill you if anyone found out.” He answers lowly, face relaxing for a moment. “Though I trust it will not come to that. You are a force of nature, Honey.” Reaching for your hair, he takes a strand of it between two fingers, much like he had when you first met him. “One I hope to claim for myself.”

#FFXIV #ff14 #Final Fantasy XIV #zenos yae galvus #zenos #THP

2 notes · View notes