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killingdove · 1 year

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could we perhaps get some headcanons for the ishgardian trio realizing the moment they fell for the reader/wol 👀👀👀

ishgardian trio ➳ — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

A/N: ooh i love this request so much!! i hope these are to your liking dearest anon ♡

𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐘𝐑𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

it was in the way you sliced not only your foes but the way you sliced through the air as well when you were in battle

you may or may not worship halone but either way you were clearly bestowed the gift of combat prowess by her grace

when you’d have sparring matches together, estinien would never go easy on you as he finds that disrespectful but you knock the breath out of him physically and metaphorically whenever you win

there was a day where the practice match ended in you managing to get estinien’s back to fall atop the ground and you were pointing your weapon’s tip at him proudly from your standing position

“don’t tell me you’ve gone easy on me, wyrmblood,” you smirk

estinien stares up at you with wide eyes as he feels his heart skip a beat

but he quickly schools his elegant elezen features into his usual scowl

“of course not. who do you take me for?”

laughing, you help him up and he swears the contact between your hands ignited something within him, something different and incomparable to nidhogg’s rage that he felt all the time

he comes to find your laugh is like music to his ears

he also realizes he wants to hear more of the sound, and he uses that dry humor of his to elicit more of them from you from that day onwards which results in more small smiles from him

he’s doomed

𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄

when he wrote and poured his heart into the missive that would later grant you and the scions access to ishgard, he stopped at one point after going on a spiel about you in ink

he had unwittingly went on to sing your highest praises and much of it read like a love letter

it was during his reminiscing of your good deeds as he wrote did he realize the pure adoration and emotion he felt for you

haurchefant gets embarrassed by himself, a blush rising to his cheeks as he sets the paper aside to start anew

he was nervous such a prodigious hero as yourself would not return his feelings

not only that but he did not want to risk his father blabbering about the contents of the missive to you

later, he sees you that day and feels his stomach doing somersaults

you were just so radiant, bringing hope and happiness wherever you tread

“be still my beating heart…” he mumbles to himself before he approaches you with a smile

as usual, he was his jovial and enthusiastic, caring self

but if one were to look closely enough, the dead giveaway of his love for you was evident within his eyes as they’d crinkle at the corners with his genuine smiles

𝐀𝐘𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐋

he had always admired you from the moment he started following your expeditions and learning of your successes

but he never knew the extent of how deep his feelings ran for you as time had passed with working with you

it wasn’t until he invites you for a one-on-one dinner within the Borel manor

that evening he got to know you better, and the back and forth conversations you had over steak and wine did nothing but stoke the flames of his growing love

when the topic had shifted to romance, he felt heat circulating within his cheeks

the way you talked about your past lovers however, caused a different heat within him; one that bespoke of jealousy

it was an ugly feeling that twisted him on the inside, one he was not quite familiar with but nevertheless he hid it well

he had asked what you found attractive in a partner eventually totally for the sake of carrying conversation and not because he was curious to see if he was the warrior of light’s type nooooo

aymeric found himself comparing his likeness to your standards and it suddenly hit him with startling clarity mid-way through rejoicing internally that he shared your type’s physical attributes

uh oh

the concern on your face when he lets his mask slip for just a moment makes him fall even harder for you if anything

with his newfound revelation, he says nothing is amiss and diverts your attention towards sharing your experiences with beastmen

all the while he’s screaming inside

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elizabethrobertajones · 20 days

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G'raha's hand slipped from Frog's as they stepped from the aetheryte shard - she moving towards Borel Manor, he slinking towards the airship landing.

"G'raha?" she asked, stopping and alerting Aymeric to the pause. He had been walking a stride ahead of them, a careful distance he had kept through their visit; a gracious host for all Ishgard knew. Certainly not the Warrior of Light's other lover.

"I suppose I ought to leave you two together," G'raha mumbled, unable to meet their eyes. "I had a lovely evening, but I know your time alone is rare..."

Having been expecting at least to make it to evening drinks at the manor with the three of them after their dinner date, Frog looked pleadingly to Aymeric.

He nodded. The still-busy streets were the last place he and Frog had conspired to have this conversation. "There is room for you," he answered carefully, after a too-long pause.

"If it's alright, I'd rather get back to work once I'm back in Sharlayan anyway," G'raha said. "You don't have to go out of your way to accommodate me."

"Absolutely not," Frog complained. "At least come back for a - a brandy by the fire? Aymeric is extremely generous, you'll find."

A blush was clear on the Lord Speaker's face by the light of the streetlamps.

"Will you join us?" he asked in his silkiest voice.

G'raha suddenly, finally, understood what they had asked him.

Day 1: Sleeping Positions | First Time Sleeping Together

UNFORTUNATELY I saw that meme about the throuple sleepwear options but couldn't find a good way to put Frog in a fluffy dramatic sheer gown and lingerie since I don't use mods (or goofy loveheart boxers for G'raha). So. Bra and shorts like Hydaelyn intended. Boring red pants because blah. Aymeric still gets the Olde Timey Sleepwear because.... Neck line. And he looks cozy and I love that for him.

G'raha made a critical error in alerting Frog to his enormous crush on the "historical figures" including Aymeric extremely early on when everyone was still single and being stupid about it. She remembered that on account of having dramatically and woefully told Aymeric it would never work between them and broken his heart a few years earlier, so it was initially rather more mutual sympathy about the bloody unobtainable Aymeric.

Until G'raha found out just how badly Frog had fumbled Aymeric, and refused to take his new girlfriend being sad about this sitting down or accept a defeat on this unusual battlefield, and with much badgering and using leverage and favours owed, got them together.

There was an extremely obvious way for Frog to repay the favour, talked to Aymeric about it, and it only took about 10 third wheel dates with the catboy moping around after them to get to the point where G'raha was alerted to the fact he'd been courted all along and Aymeric wasn't just being overbearingly polite and suddenly a lot of weird things Frog had said about the collective "we" that couldn't possibly have included him did in fact include him and he'd beaten himself up out of believing it at every turn.

(This is honestly the only overlapping throuple of the extended frogicule at the moment and everyone else is just "this is my boyfriend and my boyfriend's boyfriend and my boyfriend's boyfriend's -" etc so I didn't have much choice of sleeping together ships XD)

#ffxivpolyamoryweek2024 #ffxivpolyamweek24 #ffxiv #bounding frog #g'raha tia #aymeric de borel #shadowbringers spoilers #i wrote this #my stuff #gpose

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yukiotacon · 1 year

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Elf husbands poly Valentine's day hcs

You can bet your ass they are gonna have every important meeting about this

Aymeric does the impossible he ........ takes a break * audience gasp *

They have a very thoughtful discussion on what to get you

Unfortunately Aymeric ends up becoming the voice of reason for both Haurchefant and Estinien

Haurchefant going way overboard on the idea of showering you with gift

To which both Estinien and Aymeric have to remind him of last year's incident

Poor Haurchefant unintentionally was the cause of all the delivery moogles to be super tired

Estinien on the other hand is of course terrible with money

Haurchefant literally had to tackle and drag him away from a 200k ribbon for your hair

Aymeric was the one who came up with the plan

Which included

A nice stroll around Gridanian ( Estinien)

Participating in the sweet heart even( Haurchefant)

A nice home cook feast in the Borel manor

It semi when off without ay hitch

Fortunately or unfortunately Haurchefant channeled his inner 2014 heavensturn when he spoke about his partners

Yeah, all three of you were red as a tomato

The dinner was delicious and plentiful

Aymeric made sure to include everyone's favorite food on the menu

When the food was eaten, Haurchefant leans in and whispers " My love do save room for dessert ~" Haurchefant says in a sensual manner

Let's just say dessert was eater inside your shared bedroom and it involves a nice chocolate fountain and fruits platter and three still hungry Elezen men

To all Warriors of light I salute you because good lord you ain't coming out of that bedroom any time soon

Happy valentine's day guys ♡♡♡♡

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owlespresso · 10 months

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ashen slumber. estinien.

tags: fem!reader, poly!wolestimeric mentioned

“You need to get some rest,” Estinien says, arms crossed, hips cocked, leaned up against the doorway of Aymeric’s office. His hair cascades down his shoulders, hoarfrost white cast mellow orange by the dim lamplight.

“I don’t need any more rest.” you frown, resisting the urge to drag your hand over your face. Your dry eyes ache from hours of combing over idle paperwork. Returning to the star has seen you entrench yourself in Ishgard’s political complex, mostly for Aymeric’s sake. Splitting the paperwork between the two of you gives him more free time, something which he has been in desperate need of ever since he took place at the head of the House of Lords. The people have welcomed you with open arms, for the most part. There will always be an amount of the population which remains stuck in their old ways, determined to hold onto the grief and rage and resentment the Dragonsong War inflicted upon them, but you know you can’t please everyone. There is no world in which every soul agrees.

The highborne of the state have been more bewildered than anything. The Warrior of Light, savior of nations and states and the realm at large, dwindling herself down to a simple secretary sounds like a ridiculous idea on paper, ludicrous. Fortunately, you now have more than your fair share of experiences with paper.

A part of you enjoys the monotony of the work, the simplicity.

“Aye.” Estinien says. He lets the side of his head thunk lightly against the wooden frame, lips pressed into a thin, flat line. He’s as close to rolling his eyes as he can get without actually doing it. He’s remarkably unconvinced.

“I’m not tired.” you insist. You’ve been to the Sea of Stars and beyond. You’ve lasted a day or two without rest before, and in much less luxurious places. In the dusty flats of Ala Mhigo, dogged by Garlean soldiers and the merciless sun. On Coerthas’s snowy ridges, buffeted by the winds and the ice. If there is an ideal place to go sleepless, Manor de Borel is as close as you can find.

“Then those bags under your eyes are just for show?” Estinien takes a step into the room. He’s shed his armor in favor of a white shirt with a low neckline and billowing sleeves. And a pair of high waisted riding trousers, ones you distinctly remember Aymeric weareing last week. You draw your gaze away from the lovely thick of his thighs with a swallow, but he’s already caught you, as evidenced by the wide smirk drawn from cheek to cheek. You open your mouth to deliver what is hopefully a stinging retort, but he beats you to it. “Don’t get clever with me—we both know you’re burning the candle at both ends. Do you plan on working until you drop?” “You can’t expect me to stand idle while you waste away at that thrice-damned desk.”

“Thrice-damned?” your lips quirk into an amused, shite-eating grin. “You hold the strangest grudges, Estinien.”

Estinien scoffs. The steel of his boots’ heels clicks against the polished floor as he strides across the room, coming to stand at your side. He leans a hip against the desk’s edge. It’s nearly impossible to tear your gaze away from his toned thighs, lovingly squeezed by those leather pants.

“I can hardly pull Aymeric away from it, and now it’s seized you in its clutches. I have half a mind to toss the bloody thing.” Estinien gruffs, capturing your chin between his forefinger and thumb. The pads of his fingers are calloused, roughened by years of handling a lance and handling his own survival in the realm’s untamed wilds. Slowly, contemplatively, he shifts his hold, cradling your cheek in his palm.

“I doubt Aymeric would appreciate that.” you mumble, pressing your cheek into his hand, like a cat stretching towards a spot of sun.

“Aymeric also fusses after everyone else only to not get a wink of sleep himself. Ishgard will ruin that man, I swear it.” Estinien grouses, rubbing circles into the space underneath your eye. It’s too easy to go boneless into his touch. Your shoulders slump, your entire body leaning in his direction.

“On that, we agree.” you say, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. The taut muscle of his abdomen tenses and shudders.

“Aye. Now be a good lass and come to bed.” Estinien huffs. He reaches down, hooks his hands underneath your arms and lifts you from the chair like you’re some poorly-behaved feline. You’re so gobsmacked that it renders you completely still, frozen long enough for him to readjust his grip after he sets you back on your feet. His arms curl underneath your knees and bring them upwards. You shout, hands scrambling for his shoulders in blind panic as the ground disappears from beneath you a second time.

“Estinien!” you squawk in a manner most undignified. “Put me down this instant!” Your fingers curl into his shoulders, squeezing the broad muscle you find there.

“The rest of your Scions will gut me if you wasted away under my watch—and I’ve no interest in another visit from your infernal secretary.” You duck to avoid thunking your head on the top of the doorframe, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. He smells like a campfire, like levin in the air after a storm. You bump your nose into him as he shifts you in his grasp, wincing into his skin.

“But I still have so much to do,” you protest halfheartedly. Your eyelids are already beginning to betray you. It’s harder and harder to keep open and fully awake when he’s got you pressed tight against the warmth of his body—his torso is broad and his waist so delectably thin. Caked in lean muscle, just plush enough for you to dig your fingers into his upper back.

“Your parchment piles will still be here in the morning,” he assures you with a wry, amused huff. With you still in his arms, he twists the doorknob to the master bedroom and shoves it open with a cocked hip. You try to not think about how hot that is. Instead, you savor the wall of warmth that encompasses you as Estinien steps into the threshold. “Unless I make the wise decision to toss them into the fireplace.”

“I’m telling Aymeric if you do.” The threat is immediate, and it earns you a dry laugh. Estinien drops you onto the mattress, looks down at you with half-lidded, appraising eyes. Your robe has been rumpled by all the manhandling, collar knocked over your shoulder, exposing ilms of soft skin along your arm and bust.

“You say that as if the lord commander won’t agree with me. You both work yourselves to the bone, but he’s more concerned for you than he ever is for himself.” he says with a sigh, flopping onto the other side of the bed. The plush mattress bounces underneath his weight, nearly knocking you off in the process. You grumble discontentedly as you right yourself, scuttling under the covers. They’re cool and buttery against your skin, a finery that only the wealthiest in the city get to enjoy. Here, in the calming dark, you could easily float off to sleep—but Estinien is still moving around. The sheets glide smoothly against your cheek as you peek out of your makeshift shelter.

His long, lean fingers clumsily bat against his chest, undoing a few of his buttons. You’ve been able to see the taunting jut of his collarbones this entire time, but every ilm of fabric lowered reveals more of his broad chest. A dusky areola peeks out from underneath the silken cloth.

“Shouldn’t you be chasing Aymeric around, instead?”

“You would have me impose a curfew on the Lord Commander?” Estinien asks, sliding out of his shirt and kicking his boots off. They land somewhere near the door.

“But you can impose one on me?” Agitation bleeds into your voice. Your shrewd look becomes a menacing glare, space between your brows scrunched up.

“You,” Estinien reaches over, cupping your cheek in his massive palm. His fingers splay around the back of your head as he pulls you close, kisses your temple, and then your cheek. His warm breath rolls across your skin, sends a shudder down your spine as he nips the tip of your ear. “Are just small enough for me to get away with it.” Estinien says, flopping his head onto one of the pillows. Waves of white hair gleam pearlescent underneath the firelight. Amusement is worn into his statuesque features, painted across his high cheekbones and handsome nose. His eyelashes, even, hoarfrost in color, tinge pink in the hearth’s golden love.

“Don’t look at me like that. You could have clawed yourself free if you wanted, you just like being doted on.” There’s a smugness to his words that makes your blood begin to boil, but it’s remarkably difficult to remain cross with him when he’s so shirtless and so in front of you, the long, lean stretch of his body splayed out for your viewing pleasure. The curves of his defined abdomen give way to sharp hip lines, a wisp of white hair guiding your vision lower, to the parts of him hidden by the covers.

“I’m ignoring you.” you mumble, shoving your face into the pillow. His touch roams to your back, warm hand coming to rest between your shoulder blades. When you don’t fuss, he adjusts his position, curling around you, pulling you close to his chest.

You’re too stubborn to help, but you submit yourself to being maneuvered around. It’s nothing new. Countless nights, you’ve fallen asleep at the very edge of the bed, only to find yourself pressed between them when next you wake. Estinien has no qualms with picking carrying you to and from various rooms of the house, scooping you into his firm embrace whenever he gets the (frequent) urge to hold you. Even Aymeric grabs you and seats you on his lap whenever you wander into the office whilst he’s at work.

Estinien presses his lips to the side of your head. A soft, rumbling sound coos from somewhere deep in his chest as he drags you upwards. Your face rests on his shoulder, half of your torso wedged between him and the blankets. A comforting, cradling embrace, saturated with the soft scent of after rain and fresh linens. The ease with which he moves you sends a shiver down your spine, a warmth building within you that you pointedly ignore.

You need rest, after all.

#estinien #aymeric #ffxiv/reader #aymeric/reader #estinien/reader #oz write #fathoming ffxiv

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kimikoyukiart · 1 year

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Borel Manor - Pt 2

#concept art #final fantasy 14 #ff14 #ffxiv #aymeric #estinien #art #fanart #borel manor

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starrysnowdrop · 1 month

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Lalapril 2024 🎉 Day 27: Celebration

Following the Scions and Warriors of Light’s triumph over the Endsinger and the permanent aversion of the Final Days, Hali returns to Ishgard with her love, Aymeric, and soon they begin to prepare for the Celebration Ball by practicing their ballroom dancing in Borel Manor.

#lalapril #lalapril 2024 #day 27 celebration #ishgardian ball #aymeric de borel #ser aymeric #aymeric x wol #female lalafell #hali aloke #oc: drops of jupiter #hali x aymeric #ship: hold me closer

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myreia · 3 months

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DIVERGENCE OF THE HEART

CHAPTER ELEVEN: HEART OF STONE

Chapter Rating: Teen Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Aymeric de Borel, Thancred Waters, Hilda Ware Pairings: Aureia/Aymeric, Aureia/Thancred, Thancred/Hilda Chapter Words: 2,851 Notes: Set during the Heavensward patches. Summary: Aureia Malathar may have made a name for herself in Ishgard, but her deeds come with a hefty personal toll. Despite her victories at the Grand Melee she has never felt more unsure of herself. Her relationship with Thancred—the person she thought knew her the best—is strained, yet she cannot abandon him. Aymeric is falling for her harder with each passing day, yet she cannot bring herself to accept it. All may be fair in love and war, but at least war is predictable. Love on the other hand… Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 Read on AO3

They leave the Borel Manor in silence.

Hilda sets an easy pace, striding with purpose, head held high. She huffs when her long ponytail catches on her jacket collar and pulls it out, flipping it behind her. Her carbine rests heavily on her back, the metal looking all the more worn in the bright sunlight. It is uncommonly bright today, not a cloud to be seen. Aureia can’t remember a sky so clear since the day Haurchefant died.

“I suppose thanks are in order,” Aureia says. She isn’t sure what she wants to say to her friend, but something is better than nothing.

Hilda flashes her a sympathetic smile. “Any time.” They walk a little further, their pace slowing as they turn onto the Pillars’ main thoroughfare. The Vault dominates the skyline, its soaring spires reaching up to the heavens. “You know, Aur, I’m not going to pry into personal matters, but you all right? You seem a little…”

She gestures empathetically, leaving the word unsaid.

“I’m fine.”

She arches an eyebrow, but does not press. “So, I understand dinner went well,” she continues, flashing her a grin.

“Dinner? I—” Aureia blushes. The dinner feels like an age ago. “It was nice.”

“Mhm.”

“It was! What’s that smile for?”

Hilda’s grin widens. “Can’t I be happy for you?”

“You’re teasing me.”

“I’m teasing you because I’m happy for you.”

They round the corner and patter down the stone steps into the Jeweled Crozier. The marketplace is bustling, the midday sun drawing out the crowds. Highborn and lowborn both stand shoulder-to-shoulder, pursuing merchants’ wares with flushed faces and bright eyes. Considering the stringent Ishgardian social divide, it is heartwarming to see them gathered here. Perhaps Aymeric’s reforms are finally making change.

Hilda catches the eye of a large, beefy Elezen loitering in a corner. She gives him a cheery wave and his face breaks into a wide smile. Chortling to herself, she pulls Aureia through the street, weaving their way through the chattering crowd.

“So,” she says, her eyes dancing mischievously. “How was it?”

“How was what?”

Hilda clears her throat and shoots her a knowing look. “How was it?”

“Oh!” Aureia’s flush deepens. She may as well have lit herself on fire from the way she is burning. “Good.”

The dam breaks in her chest, relief rushing over her. Somehow confiding in someone other than Aymeric, someone normal without the concerns of the Ishgardian aristocracy, relieves the stress and worry she has been building in her head. There will always be politics involved in this relationship, she knows that, but Hilda brings a relieving sense of perspective. “It was good. Nice.”

She chortles. “See? I knew you needed someone to help take the edge off.”

Aureia smirks. “Yes, well… Aymeric is quite good at that.”

“Is he now? Fury, I’d hope so, considering he’s been pining after you for moons. I reckon I’ve never seen a man quite in love with anyone as he is with you. One would think a politician wouldn’t wear his heart on his sleeve.”

She pauses, a spike of annoyance stabbing her in the gut. Though the words are different, the point is familiar. Too familiar. “Been talking to Thancred?”

Hilda shrugs. “Saw him in brief last night.”

Her heart pangs, an open, heavy throb. She doesn’t want to think about what that means when who he spends his time with doesn’t matter to her. So why—after everything—does she still care? “At Saint Vaindreau’s Grace?” she asks.

“Aye,” she replies. “At Saint Vaindreau’s Grace. Alphinaud’s little sister is well, if you were wondering.”

Aureia makes a face. “Best not let Alisaie catch you calling her little or that might be the end of you and the Hounds.”

Hilda snorts. The crowd thins and they exit the market, passing below grand sweeping arches as they follow the curve of the street down, down, and down again. Aureia’s legs ache. Why this city was built into the slope of a mountain, she will never know.

“Right,” Hilda says after a moment, throwing her ponytail over her shoulder once more. “Reckon I should have told you sooner considering the two of you are friends and all, but here I was thinking it wouldn’t amount to much in the first place—”

“What would?”

“A bit of fun.” She shrugs again. “Getting a bit bored, if I’m honest.”

Aureia holds her tongue and stares dully ahead. Foundation’s tenements rise high around them, casting the road into shadow. The flagstones are slippery here, puddles clinging to the stone where the sun has not yet hit.

“I worry for you Scions, you know. So concerned with the fates of gods and men, do any of you give consideration to yourselves? It’s hard work, ain’t it? Championing the belief in a better world. Eorzea needs good folk like you, just as Ishgard needs the likes of Ser Aymeric and the Brume needs the likes of the Hounds.”

“Where’s this going, Hilda?”

“I’ve never seen a man quite as wretched as he was last night. Blamed it on guilt over the little sister’s injuries, but I reckon there was something else on his mind. Now this is none of my business, but did something happen with the pair of you?”

“You could say that.”

“Let me guess, he was a fucking fool, yeah?”

Aureia pauses, eyes wide.

Hilda grins at her, eyes shining with mirth and understanding. Linking her arm with hers, she resumes her purposeful stride. “Did you really think I wouldn’t have your back, Aur?” she says. “Listen. If you want my advice? Fuck him—”

Aureia chokes, laughter bubbling out of her. Her shoulders shake and she leans into Hilda for support. This is not where she thought this conversation would go.

“Maybe not literally,” Hilda continues, her lips twitching with amusement. “Definitely not literally, the man is a mess.”

“I know.”

They exit out of the shadows and turn down another street, heading for the Forgotten Knight. Aureia’s stomach is growling. It will be good to return home, take whatever food Gibrillont has on offer, and touch base with Tataru. She will no doubt know the logistics Alphinaud and Count Edmont have planned.

Guilt twinges in her gut. Though some tiny part of her is proud of putting her personal life first for once, she chose the wrong night to do it. In a way, she has let them both down. She hates to imagine Alphinaud, pale with worry about Alisaie and with dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, taking command of the situation and formulating the plan. Too often logistics have come down to him, and while she trusts him with her life, he shouldn’t have to shoulder that burden alone. Edmont, too, has stepped up in her absence, playing his role as the responsible and generous noble benefactor.

She’s being too harsh, she knows she is. Edmont is a good man. House Fortemps will always stand by the Scions. She should be grateful for that. If he hadn’t offered, Alphinaud or Aymeric would have asked for his aid regardless. No airship can make its way to Xelphatol. The only way up the mountain is to fight their way through hordes of Ixali and the Fortemps knights are well-trained in that regard.

“Aur.” Hilda’s voice interrupts her thoughts, gentle but firm. They have reached the foot of a bridge, its span arching across the twisting city streets. “I should take my leave. Take care, yeah?”

Aureia smiles.

Hilda unlinks her arm and pulls her into an embrace. “Me and the Hounds will be waiting for you when you get back. Drinks on us this time, the whole crew. Don’t keep us waiting for long, you hear?”

She chuckles affectionately. “I hear.”

“Good. Say, you should stop by the Skysteel Manufactory sometime. I think Stephanivien would be pleased to me you, give you a lesson or two in how our firearms work. I reckon you’d make a fine machinist.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“If you ever feel the need to shoot something, say the word.”

Hilda releases her and draws back, a mischievous smirk on her face. She raises a hand in farewell and departs, disappearing across the grand thoroughfare. Smiling to herself, Aureia sets a foot on the bridge and climbs. There are few people about, and those who are pay her no heed. The sun shines brightly, the wind all but calm. If she didn’t know better, one could say it is as close to a spring day as Ishgard can get.

A shadow waits for her at the apex.

Her heart plummets. Thancred’s figure is unmistakable as he leans against the thick stone railing, arms folded across his chest. He watches the thin foot traffic with a narrowed eye, his eyepatch returned to its customary place. The hilts of his dual daggers glint in the harsh light. She doesn’t need to ask what that means—he is prepared to escort her to Camp Dragonhead and beyond, if needed.

A creeping sense of déjà vu settles over her as she crests the bridge. She brushes it aside and squints, shielding her face with a hand. A day ago, she would be annoyed—angry, even. Now she feels nothing. Anger would be better than nothing.

“Thancred.”

“Aureia.”

The faint breeze tugs at her hair. She slows to a stop a foot away, arms folded and hands tucked into her armpits. She must keep things civil. Treat him normally. Perhaps if they pretend nothing happened, they can keep their working relationship intact. “How is Alisaie?” she asks.

“She dances on the edge of consciousness, straying in and out,” he replies curtly. “But the chirurgeons report that she has taken to the antidote well. She will recover. It is only a matter of time before she is on her feet once more.”

“I see. Is someone with her now?”

“Tataru has relieved us of infirmary duty, if that is what you ask.”

Her jaw clenches. “I only wanted to know if someone she knew was nearby. I would hate to be in her shoes, awaking in a strange city, no friends in sight. Or worse, a Fortemps brother.”

A measly, half-hearted joke. One made at the expense of Artoirel and Emmanellain. Haurchefant would chastise her gently for it. Gods, what is wrong with her?

He snorts. There’s no retort. No witty repartee. Instead, he stares intently at the bridge and the tenements beyond and the mountains beyond that. There’s a terrible yearning in his face, desire turned desperate. He may be here physically, but his mind is elsewhere. Ishgard is no place for him, not after his year in the wilds. Then again, perhaps there has never been a place for him. They both once called Ul’dah home, but it rang true for her in a way it did not to him. A city of import, yes, but he was only ever a passerby. He is a wanderer, always on the move. If he could up and disappear now, where would he go? He vanished and found Alisaie. Perhaps he will do something of the like again. Yda and Papalymo are still missing after all.

Her heart pangs with grief. It has been so long since they were all together, gathered in Minfilia’s solar at the Rising Stones. A different age. A different life. Even should those who remain be reunited, it will never be the same.

“You were not at the meeting,” Thancred says.

She grimaces. “I wasn’t aware there was a meeting.”

“Perhaps you would have had you not disappeared.”

“Perhaps I should be free to go where I please and not where I’m expected. I’m not bound hand and foot to the Fortemps Manor.”

“Quite. Though you are not above aristocratic hospitality when another manor has caught your eye. Or so I hear.”

How the hells…? Not even day. Not one day and already he knows. Not one day and already he is judging her. Does his envy truly go that far? Did he expect her to chase him down at the infirmary after what happened in that alleyway? He gave her leave not to. He told her that if she did not come, that would be the end of it—

There it is. The anger, surging up out of her like a burst of mana.

She bites her tongue, desperate to keep her temper in check. How easy it is to simmer in her fury. Anger is powerful. Addictive. It is satisfying to ride the waves of her righteous anger, to give into it utterly. But behind the pleasure lies exhaustion.

Why is she angry? What does she blame him for? Fucking her friend behind her back? What happened between him and Hilda isn’t any of her business. The misguided kiss the night before? She fell for it as much as he did, it would be hypocritical to fault him for it without blaming herself. The cold shoulders and bitter remarks? Natural responses to the way she needles him. If he knows exactly where to press to make it hurt the most, she knows, too. Perhaps even better.

To try to unravel who wronged who first is impossible now.

Her heart seizes. It is as if a hand has reached directly into her chest and wrapped its fingers around it, squeezing tight. “I’m sorry,” she manages, the words rasped and raw. It isn’t good enough.

“Thank you, Aureia darling—”

She scowls at the epithet, but says nothing. Either he forgot her request or he has ignored it on purpose.

“—I am certainly not the one who merits an apology. That would be Alphinaud. From what I hear the poor boy almost made himself ill with worry. For someone who fancies himself quite the leader, he was certainly discomforted with the notion of planning this endeavour without your gracious input.”

“Well, then I’m sorry for making Alphinaud uncomfortable.”

“He wished to stay at his sister’s side this morning. But a Scion’s presence was necessary, and so a Scion attended.”

“And you could not have attended? Your presence is as valuable as mine. If anything, you have a far more tactical mind than I.”

He glances sharply at her, brows drawn together. “A tactician? Hardly. Not after the mistakes I’ve made.”

“Give yourself more credit. You have a plan. I’m the person they send in to execute it.”

A pained look crosses his face and he turns away, dropping his gaze to the ground. He stares determinedly at the flagstones, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. She half expects him to shove off and abandon her then and there.

But he remains. Restless and fretting, deep concern plain on his face, but he stays all the same. For her.

“I know,” he says after a moment. “And I know how heavily the burden weighs on you.”

She pauses, hand brushing the hilt of her rapier. “I’ll stop them. I promise. I haven’t forgiven them for kicking your ass in Dravania—”

“Hey now.” He makes a face and runs a hand sheepishly through his hair. “I seem to recall events quite differently. I dealt them a blow that time, not the other way around.”

His fingers catch on the knotted tail at the nape of his neck. She remembers all too well what it felt like to rake her fingers through his hair, the elated feeling of tugging that tie free. A memory she should set aside along with that blasted kiss.

Her feelings for him are a dead end. Unwanted and unjustified. Why should she chase the fleeting remains of their broken friendship when Aymeric—good, kind Aymeric—is in love with her? He offers her something that Thancred is incapable of giving. She cannot relinquish her one chance at happiness. Not when she is with someone who has shown her so much grace and compassion. She can’t imagine anyone doing for her what Aymeric did last night.

She is lucky to have found such fervent love in this bitter, wretched world. It may never come again.

There is nothing Thancred can give her. No desperate touch can mend their relationship, no fervent kiss can restore them to who they were that night in the waterways. If he wanted her then—if he loved her then—he should have said it.

It is too late now.

She exhales a long breath. “If you say so.”

Aureia and Thancred fall silent, neither one keen to look the other in the face. The bright sun beats down on them, happy and hopeful, oblivious to the tension between them. To the outside observer they may be no more than passing acquaintances engaging in idle small talk, awkwardly waiting for an opportunity to exit the conversation. But to someone with a keen eye and an ironshod heart, they are no more than two sides of the same coin bent on moving in divergent directions.

This is an ending.

It will be a long time before either of them understands the truth of it.

Notes: I’ve had this fic spinning in my head off and on since January 2023 and I’m really happy that I’ve finally been able to bring it to fruition. Aureia and Aymeric near and dear to me—even though they have their issues and it’s not going to be an easy ride since the fundamental problem with their relationship is that he loves her more than she can love him in return. I’m excited to explore more of their dynamic in the future; they have a whole saga throughout the rest of Heavensward and all of Stormblood and I’m ready to dig my teeth into it. As for Aureia and Thancred... there will be a few more bumps in their journey before they get there. Thank you so much for reading! This is my favourite fic I’ve written in a long time, I’m very happy with it. I hope you enjoyed. 💖

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv fic #ffxiv fanfiction #wolmeric #wolcred #hilda ware #thancred waters #ffxiv wol #aureia malathar #oc tag #writing tag #heavensward #heavensward spoilers

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keicordelle · 3 months

Text

Fluffvember Day 9 : Warmth - Estinien

"Estinien!" Framed by the light shining through the doorway of the Borel Manor, Aymeric looked like nothing short of an angel sent by Halone herself. Concern pinched his seraphic face, and he reached out as if to touch me before he thought better of it, hand dropping to his side. "You look freezing. Please, come in! My parents have already retired for the night, but I am certain they won't mind your presence."

The light blinded me for a moment as I stepped through the door, teeth chattering against the cold and dripping snowmelt onto the lustrous tile of the entryway. "Forgive me," I said, a violent frisson wracking my body. "I had nowhere else to go."

"You are always welcome here, my friend," Aymeric replied easily, as if it cost him nothing to offer such a kindness. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, heedless of the water that soaked my clothes, and tugged me further into the estate. "Come, I shall run you a bath."

He led me through the opulent halls of the manor, through a dark room that could only have been his bed chambers to a private bath. The warmth of his arm against my skin seemed to sear into me, the prickling burn of heat down my limbs and through my chest almost painful, and yet I lamented its loss when he released me to kneel before the tub.

He did not demand to know why I had been on his doorstep in the dead of winter, frozen half to death, and I was grateful for his circumspection. It was for that very reason that he had managed to break the sanctum of my heart and become the only one I deemed a friend. There would be questions later, to be sure, but for now he contented himself with sidelong glances as he readied the bath, and by the gentle flush that graced his cheeks, I imagined that had as much to do with the attraction I'd noticed him direct towards me when he thought I wasn't looking as it did his curiosity over my state.

Would that I were in a position to capitalize on his interest. I huddled in on myself, the warmth of the manor slow to seep into my frozen fingers and toes, clutching at my own arms as I shivered. What a pitiful sight I must have made, but Aymeric's expression held nothing but compassion and worry as he glanced over at me once more, chewing his lip. "You shall warm faster if you strip from your wet clothing. Pray sit in the bath as it fills, and I shall find something for you to wear when you are through."

I nodded jerkily, numb fingers fumbling to slide my shirt over my head, and after a moment’s indecision, he stepped forward to aid me, his hands gentle as he helped me strip to my smalls. His blush spread as his fingers brushed against my bare skin, his gaze kept carefully averted as he unlaced my pants and tugged them down over my hips to pool at my feet. "Can you manage to get into the water on your own?" he asked gently, eyes drifting up my body before he caught himself and looked away again.

"Yes," I answered between chattering teeth, but I didn't protest when he helped me to the edge of the tub anyway.

"I'll be just outside if you should have need of me," he said as I sank into the water, moving to crack open the door.

Stay with me. The words rose to my lips and were strangled before they could fully form. He had done enough; to ask him to linger would be improper and unfair. I did not need to cling to him like a child to its mother; it was already more than enough that he offered me his unquestioning aid. "You have my thanks," I said instead, and he nodded to me before slipping from the room and shutting the door behind him.

Slowly, warmth began to seep back into my limbs to settle in my core, chasing away shivers tinged with despair. I breathed deeply of the steam infused with the faint but familiar scent of Aymeric, holding it within my lungs as though I could warm myself from the inside out. Muscle by muscle, my body relaxed, fatigue settling in as tension leeched from me, safe at last in Aymeric's care. He was so kind. Too kind for his own good, in truth, and far kinder than I deserved. I still couldn't understand why he insisted on befriending me, the stubborn fool, but in this moment, neither could I regret that he had. And he was so beautiful...

I hadn't even realized I'd fallen asleep until a hand on my shoulder shook me gently awake, Aymeric's soft call of "Estinien," teasing at my ears. I opened my eyes to find his face just ilms above mine, worry clouding those pale eyes.

"Thank you," I murmured drowsily, and he tilted his head, hands slipping along my back to help me stand.

"For what?"

"For everything."

He laughed softly, the quiet sound of it soothing as he towelled me dry and wrapped me in a fluffy blanket, leading me with him to settle down before the fireplace in his bedroom. Such a nice laugh. I could get used to hearing that, my mind offered, and I was too tired to consider that, or the warmth that spread through my chest as Aymeric settled himself behind me and combed through my hair. He was speaking, I thought, murmuring something about snow and silk and beauty, but I couldn't follow the words, the feeling of his fingers against my scalp lulling me back towards slumber.

I was just awake enough when he finished to catch hold of his wrist before he could pull away. "Stay with me?" I heard myself ask.

His lips parted in surprise, and for a single heartbeat he hesitated, his crystal eyes unreadable, before he nodded, lowering himself down next to me. I curled into him automatically, dragging the edge of the blanket around him and resting my head on his shoulder, comforted in a way I hadn't been since I'd been a small child curled into my mother's side. Being with Aymeric felt like that, somehow. Easy, and soothing. Safe. He felt safe. And as the fire warmed my body and sleep dragged me back under its spell, the presence of my dearest friend warmed something deep and vital within me as well.

[Masterlist] | [Ao3]

#ffxiv #estimeric #fluffvember #estinien wyrmblood #aymeric de borel #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv fanfiction #estinien #aymeric #my writing #~k

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