#its a gift from aymeric

[headcanons-n-shit]

since there was already a prompt abt pining can i ask for hcs on how the ffxiv boys (+leofard?) would go about expressing their interest in a particularly dense wol? 😊

We do love a dense motherfuker

Thancred is fucjing suffering over here. He cannot possibly make his intentions any more obvious. The problem is that hes accidentally played himself-- hes spent so long disguising his feelings as jokes, or as ploys on missions, and now you just assume that his flirting and holding your hand and wanting to be in your space all the time is just what the two of you do. He ends up having to go all rose petals and sappy love confession under the moonlight like some kind of storybook love interest. Its so sappy, embarrassing, but its also so, so sweet.

Urianger is, unfortunately, painfully Sharlyan about the whole thing. He gives you nice paper, expensive ink, masterwork tools, intricate glasswear for your alchemy lab. Practical, highquality armor. A delicately embroidered handkerchief. He thinks hes being overly forward with his affections, you think hes just being a really good friend, yshtola would rather drown herself than watch the rest of this soap opera play out.

Literally what else does G'raha need to do to prove his devotion to you??? The man unwound time and unraveled space just to be by your side. He was practically your sugardaddy your entire time on the First. He almost, almost thought you were flirting back with him when you brought him food from the Last Stand, and then Alphinaud and alisae and krile trotted in behind you and it took every ounce of his Exarch discipline not to retreat with his tail between his legs. Pls this man is suffering.

Estinien literally can not. Look me in the eyes. This stinky dragoon has spent a good half his life behind an armet. He is a horrible mix of country bumpkin, career soldier, aymeric's half-assed attempts to pound courtly decorum into estiniens dumb empty head, and Nidhoggs instincts. He wants to cook you food, drag you into a corner and kiss you silly, send you flowers, and bring you something he killed with his bare hands. He ends up doing all four. Not necessarily in that order.

Aymeric is dying. You are going to be the death of him. He has gone through great pains to discover your favorite flower and have them always displayed in your room. He has written you letters full of poetry. He has showered you with gifts. He has invited you to dine with him. At this point the other nobles are asking whether its going to be a spring or summer wedding, and he doesnt know how to explain how you are still woefully oblivious bc he cant explain it himself.

Haurchefant gave you a LITERAL DOWRY. He handed you the reins to an extremely expensive war-trained black de chocobo in front of everyone whos ever mattered to him and also half of ishgard, and then he had to stand there dying internally while you praised him for being a "good friend". There are bets not on whether hes going to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to his room to. Ahem. Prove his devotions. But rather on how long it will take him to break.

Sidurgu. Barely has memories of the Orl traditions around courtship. His mother had often regaled him with stories of how she had courted his father. Food, presense and friendship, proofs of skill. And yes, it frustrates him that you seem to brush off his attempts, but. Well. It took almost five years for his mother and father to get together, from the way they told it. Hes learned a lot for your sake, and for rielles. He can learn patience too.

Leofard is a pirate. He doesnt dance around the bush, he strikes when the metal is hot and takes what he wants. It works well with garlean airships and the odd unfortunate merchant. Not. So much with you. One, because your consent and emotions are important to him. Two, because you are so. Fucking. Dense. He steals silks and jewels and fancy foods for you, spends time with you, saved your life from diabolos, told you his sad life story. Hes one step from throwing himself at you like some fainting dame, and its embarrassing.

(Hes not gonns stop tho)

#ff14 #ff14 headcanons #thancred waters #graha tia #urianger augurelt #estinien wyrmblood #estinien varlineau #aymeric de borel #haurchefant greystone #sidurgu orl #leofard myste #wolcred #wolianger #grahawol #wolstinien #wolmeric #haurchewol #sidwol #leofard/wol

[myreia]

FEBHYURARY XI: RAID

Acrid smoke lingers heavily on her tongue. Ash chokes her lungs, searing the insides. Her blue and gold uniform is stained and torn. Aymeric’s scarf—a parting gift, was it that long ago now?—trails in the wind, its tattered hem fluttering pathetically behind her. The raid came quickly, overwhelming them in minutes. She is furious she didn’t see the signs beforehand. And so, battered and bruised, her eye stinging from blood that drips from a forehead wound, she stakes her broken lance into the ground and pushes herself up onto one knee.   The monster—impossible in his strength, his size, his speed, an enigma forged of blood and steel—approaches her from behind. Slow, methodical, each step foretelling her doom. But he is not a monster, not to her. For she knows exactly what man lies beneath that armour and she hoped she would never encounter him on the battlefield. Fool.   She knows exactly what face lurks beneath that helmet. She had the dubious honour of fighting the crown prince many years ago—a test of strength and a battle of wills to prove the worth of her fellow savages. When their contest ended in a draw, he told her the memory of their fight had seared itself on him like a brand. Permanent and eternal. Few managed to make such an impression. Her reward? Sanction for her unit to operate—a unit she would later massacre during her defection. Does he still remember? When he glimpses her unmasked face, what will he see? Eorzea’s champion or the Garlean defector? Both? Neither? She licks her dry lips, tasting salt and iron, and hefts her lance, the first embers of vengeance flickering in her heart. It will not end here. In crimson it began… and in black it will be complete.

#febhyurary #febhyurary 2024 #ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #ff14 #gpose #gposers #ffxiv wol #zenos yae galvus #hyur midlander #half-elezen #stormblood #aureia malathar #oc tag #myreia screenshots #aur's backstory with zenos & garlemald is long and complicated and aggghhhh screaming quietly about it tbh #anyway i am not happy with how this came out but i got tired of fiddling with it #(both the gpose and the writing)

[ainyan]

“And there,” she announces, lifting her hand to point high into the sky, “is the Ewer. Isn’t it beautiful?” she adds with a sigh. “It’s my favorite, I think. Reminds me of…” Trailing off, she considers her words carefully. “Where I grew up.” Home, but not her home now. Behind her, leaning on the wall, Aymeric makes a soft noise of agreement, never lifting his gaze from the lalafellan woman before him.

As she drops her arm and begins to turn, Aymeric quickly lifts his head and straightens up, affecting a pleasantly engaged expression. Hali gives him a suspicious look, but his smile only brightens. “Which was your favorite?” she asks testingly.

The Lord Commander gives her a bright smile, stalling as he wracks his memory to drag forth hazy recollections of a conversation lost in his contemplation of the woman giving it. “Ah - the Ewer, I agree,” he finally replies. “Like you, I find it strikingly beautiful.” So many layers to such an innocuous statement.

Hali isn’t entirely certain she believes him, but the night is too beautiful - and the company too divine - for her to sully them with arguments. The important part, after all, is that they are together. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“I assure you, I liked it very much.” Aymeric offers his hand out to her. “Shall we return to Ishgard, then?”

Her lips curving, Hali slides her fingers into his. “Yes,” she agrees, before her voice lilts teasingly, “after all, your office must be crying for you.”

Aymeric grunts at the mention of his office. “Let it cry,” he replies saucily. “I have better things to do than heed its siren call.” Determined to distract her, he tugs on her hand, drawing her closer. Startled, she allows him to pull her forward, and when he leans forward as if to kiss her hand, she blushes and turns her head away to hide the sudden rush of pink to her cheeks. Pleased, Aymeric brushes his lips across her fingertips. “Shall we return home, my lady?”

Home. Home now. “Yes,” Hali replies, just a bit breathlessly. “Let’s go home.”

For FFXIV Swap 2023, I also was blessed with the opportunity to do a gift for @starrysnowdrop, and of course, I absolutely had to take this opportunity to demonstrate my love of her Hali and Aymeric. I hope I was able to do some justice to them and their love. <3

#ffxivswap #hali aloke #aymeric de borel #wol x aymeric #starrysnowdrop

[lilbittymonster]

Day 7: Helping Out

She had just finished tying another bow when a knock came from the door.

"May I come in, love?" Aymeric asked.

"Yeah, just don't let Ari in," Kitali responded as she placed another small box in the middle of the coloured paper.

A truly pitiful cry came as Aymeric slipped into the bedroom and nudged Arienne back into the hallway, followed by another round of scratching and pawing at the door.

"Is she being punished for something?" he asked as he stripped off the Lord Commander's mantle.

"She is, she decided that the twine for the Starlight gifts would be better served as her personal toy, so she's not allowed to help me anymore."

Another small parcel joined the pile to her left.

"You've made short work of those," he said settling down next to her.

Kitali felt a gentle touch on her horn, pulling her up from her work, and she paused to welcome the kiss. Both of them lingered there, breathing softly against one another, before Aymeric pressed one more quick peck to her lips.

"Do you want to take a break?" he asked.

"You've been working all day."

"And it involved hardly any writing, blessedly."

Kitali finished wrapping the box she had started, and it joined its brethren on the ever growing pile. She'd need a bag for them soon.

"If you insist," she said, sliding over to let him take her place amidst the papers and rolls of twine.

#ffxiv #fluffuary 2024 #wolmeric #pure azure #kitali moonblade #aymeric #aymeric de borel #arienne de borel

[elfyourmother]

HRH Prince Haurchefant Greystone-Varlineau des Fortemps-Haillenarte et Borel

Consort to King Aymeric of Ishgard

Dauphin of House Fortemps

Oathsworn Champion of the Princess Gisele

Scion of the Seventh Dawn.

I. Paladin. Ishgard has had its own tradition for a thousand years, and Haurchefant still holds this as his primary vocation. As a Scion, he no longer wears the armor of his House, but he was gifted a new shield upon his departure for Mor Dhona; a peace offering from Artoirel intended as his blessing on Haurche's new path. His blade was a lover’s token from Hien, forged by the finest smiths in the Doman enclave familiar with western-style arms, and was named Silverheart. It shattered in the harrowing battle against Zodiark in Mare Lamentorum, and he subsequently reforged it with Gisele’s assistance; she purged it of corrupted aether with her magic, and it’s shone with Phoenix flame ever since.

II. Gunbreaker.  One of the major themes of Haurchefant's character arc in my work is the evolution of his conception of knighthood. The Vault left him with permanent nerve damage that causes chronic pain, and on low spoon days his shield arm is weak. On the First, Thancred trained him in the gunblade, so he can still protect Gisele and their comrades without need of it. 

III. White Mage. The aetheric lance which left him physically disabled also disrupted his aether, causing it to become permanently tilted toward the Light, and on a hunch Gisele decided to train him in White Magic. He's so nurturing that it suits him. His cane was specially commissioned for him by Aymeric, from the same master Gridanian artisans who outfit the Padjali; it's also a walking stick, and bears the unicorn of House Fortemps.

IV. Samurai. Haurche accompanied Gisele to the Azim Steppe during the Scions’ journey to free Doma, and they both fell hard for Hien. Haurche especially was mesmerized by his Samurai techniques--he'd never seen such stunning bladework, and begged to learn; so Hien and Gosetsu taught both him and Gisele. The katana he carries now was bequeathed to him by the latter; Gosetsu’s own Samonji, which he gave to Haurchefant before he set out on his pilgrimage, because he became like a son to him.

V. Dancer. When the Final Days ravaged Thavnair, Gisele and her old comrades from Troupe Falsiam rallied the Dancers of Radz-at-Han, using the Kriegstanz to soothe fearful hearts to protect the people from turning into blasphemies. But the need was great, and numbers too few to meet it; and so, when the call went out for volunteers to take up the Art, Haurchefant was the first to answer Gisele. A knight lives to serve however is needed, after all. So she gave him a crash course, before seeking answers in the far distant past. He was a quick study.

#haurchefant greystone #haurchefant day #these were posted to the bird site yesterday #i'm still putting together some shippy things for him #when i'm done with those they'll go up #bisho's adventures in gpose #lord baestone

[starswornoaths]

Prompt 6: Ring

Lucia comes to Aymeric hoping that he will forsake duty just this once.

She knows he will not. She asks anyway.

(hi I'm late and haven't written anything personal in so long, help)

word count: 2,218

Even knowing the Lord of the house would be away for at least another bell, Lucia had opted to spend it pacing the foyer of Manor de Borel all the same. Possessed of both a spare key and a first name basis with the staff had made the choice easy, when weighed against the prospect of calling him back to the office after hours.

Were she choosing to do this in armor and on record, she might have opted to wait until the morrow to discuss her findings. Were she more loyal to Ishgard than to its leader, she would not have gone through the trouble of being seen buying a bottle of wine from the Crozier as a show of turning up at a friend’s house after work for a genuinely not-uncommon nightcap. Were she a better person, she would not have come at all.

But she was none of those things. So sat she on a sofa in the foyer self soothing with a cat in her lap and an unopened bottle of wine on the table, just beyond reach. By her design, a neat pile of papers writ in as many different hands had been stacked just beyond the bottle, just out of reach and folded for discretion.

Duchess had made herself known the moment she awoke from her nap, yowling and weaving between Lucia’s legs until she made her lap available to be kneaded. Petting her feline friend was a better use of her hands than crumpling an otherwise pristine report, anyroad.

Aymeric’s arrival was a bell and a half after Lucia, as it turned out. There was no worry of her presence being startling, as even from her spot on the couch she could hear a brief conversation in the entryway somewhere between the clacking of boots and the muffled shifting of coats. An announcement on her behalf, as far as she could parse.

When he rounded the corner into the foyer half dressed for more arid climes than Ishgard and beginning to shiver faintly, the buzzing in her mind quieted with another mystery to fixate on. Old habits kicked in, and she read him from head to toe.

Though his head was free of a hat, the telltale blemish of fading marks across his forehead outlined the headwrap he had likely worn all the way to the door. She recognized his blouse as one more familiar to Thanalan, long sleeved and light and wrapped lightly in a vest gifted by Raubahn for wear during his visits. His pants and boots were of standard Ishgardian build, however; likely, he only dressed warmly as far as his coat fell to make his business in Thanalan more comfortable.

His expression was somewhere between a grimace at being unkempt in front of company and a smile at her presence as he gave the end of one sleeve a tug. “Lucia! I beg your pardon, you find me only just returned from Ul’Dah—”

“Get settled in.” she gestured at Duchess kneading biscuits in her lap. “I am off duty—and clearly not going anywhere.”

Though the journey was short and lightning quick, Lucia mapped the path Aymeric’s eyes darted, from where she had gestured to the report at the table to the unopened wine beside it before looking back to her. On at least some level, he understood the Game was afoot.

Aymeric’s virtue was also his vice: he will do the right thing—the just thing—every time, even to his own detriment. But Lucia knew that he also trusted her judgment. When she bade discretion on a matter, he deferred to her expertise.

That, and he hated being unclean to the point of distraction. The longer he hovered at the door with pleasantries, the more it had become apparent in the way he idly picked at his hands.

“Of course. My thanks—and a thousand pardons,” he said, ducking his head as he crossed the foyer and took the stairs two at a time.

Lucia had given herself a full hour and a half to think of what to say before he got here. Aymeric gave her another quarter bell by performing the same hasty but deep cleanliness that the military demanded, with an extra five minutes for him to dry and dress. Two hours, all told. 

It was still not enough time. 

By the time Aymeric returned to the foyer, all casual attire and damp curls, Lucia still lacked the words to present her findings. All that time, and she had nothing but an apology mangled in her throat.

“What were you doing in Ul’Dah?” she asked instead of explaining anything. 

Any hope of him already knowing had been dashed the moment he came home, but it was rendered clear as day now: he was still happy.

“Ah,” Aymeric sighed around a smile. “Business- both official and personal. I had thought to reopen trade discussions with the Sultanate. Discussions all around have been delicate, but enthusiastic. Progressing.”

It was so like him not to mention what he had done for himself unprompted, assuming a lack of interest. A habit he had not yet fully broken, but one he had indulged in far less of late.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Lucia croaked, “And the personal…?”

“Oh!” he startled, but lit up at the chance to explain, “Do you recall that trip I took to the Forelands? Some three moons back?”

Lucia remembered. After a jaunt in the Forelands with Uthengentle, he met her at the airship landing wearing durable working clothes and positively smudged with dirt from head to toe. At the time, she had thought to congratulate him on actually using some of his vacation time of his own volition and only half in jest, but ultimately walked away with more questions as to what it had been for. 

She knew what had become inevitable when he had only offered an explanation of, “I was in search of a star sapphire. I worried I had taken too large a piece but Uthengentle assures me he will use the excess in other pieces.”

At the time, Lucia had not asked him what it had been for. A part of her had already known—or perhaps, had hoped. It had been a happier prospect, at the time.

“Uthengentle finished my commission. ‘Tis a beautiful thing, really—should all go well, I expect you will have ample opportunity to see it often.”

Seeming unaware of her stomach falling out from under her, he gestured to the stack of papers she had brought with her. “But it seems I have more business to yet conduct before the night is over. What have you brought to me, my friend, that you would do so out of armor and for no pay? For all you complain about my lack of freetime, yours is precious little better.”

Alas, their friendship was an ongoing tug-of-war between both their propensity for overworking. If Aymeric was not discreetly scheduling days off for her, Lucia was liable to rearrange what duties she could to give him at least a few hours free a week, if not a full day. 

Lately, it had been getting better—for both of them, due in no small part to the efforts of one Warrior of Light. An ally playing both sides of the war, as lover to one and sister to another but loved fiercely all the same.

An ally that might well have betrayed them both in one fell swoop. If it might not risk weeping, Lucia would laugh at how thoroughly they might have been played.

“Physikal reports.” she said, at last freeing herself from Duchess’ leaden weight and handing Aymeric the papers. “From the incident in the Tribunal.”

An ongoing mystery that had taken a back burner by necessity during the Dragonsong War. Small mercies and damnations, then, that there was no finger drumming in the wake of peace. Not for the righteous, at least.

A principle that Lucia had until recently believed shared by the Warrior of Light. 

But righteousness does not demand silence from its victims. Righteousness was not complicity. 

And yet—and yet—there were gaping holes of information. Stories that did not align. Lucia’s mind bounces wildly between conspiracy and betrayal, unsure of which would wear on her more but knowing which one would unmake them both entirely.

Lucia studied Aymeric’s face as she shooed Duchess off her lap and rose from her seat to join him by the hearth. There had been a lingering smile in his eyes as he had taken the report. A lightness he was halfway through storing away for the sake of work as he delicately unfolded the pages.

He was the Lord Commander again before he had finished the first paragraph. If she wanted to play a morbid guessing game, she imagined it was somewhere around the phrase, “healing magicks interfaced poorly with deeper wounds—suspected use of Dark Arts at play.” 

She would also guess at what point he caught the reason for this clandestine turn-in: Serella Arcbane found consorting with a heretic’s corpse on Tribunal grounds four hours prior to incident that occurred inside. Association suspected, extent unclear. 

“Aymeric—” Lucia croaked, dropping all pretense of titles and duties.

In that moment, such things were too heavy for her to carry. The flames in the hearth were too tempting in that moment; if she had been holding the reports, she might have thrown the pages in the fire just to be free of the tension. Old habits crept in from the most bent and beaten parts of her. Not even in Borel Manor was she safe from the shadows of the Empire, not when they so darkened her heart.

“You know what it means that I am here off duty. No other has seen this report,” she continued, and though her words were evenly measured out, tested carefully on her tongue, it still felt as though she were rambling. “None that yet live, at least.”

His expression was inscrutable. Like he was trying desperately to mask how his heart threatened to break. Like he was failing, for all his spectacular effort. 

Far from emboldened but already there, Lucia leaned closer and whispered, “One word…one word, and this never leaves this room.”

Because she would take the secret to her grave, if Aymeric asked it of her. Over country, over duty and faith and god she would, if he but bade it of her.

But she knew that he would not. He would not even consider it. In a way, it was why she had asked it of him in the first place: her loyalty to him was always rewarded. His honesty, the compass that pointed them north.

And how bittersweet her reward was this time, when he did not so much as glance at the fireplace, eyes never leaving hers.

“And what would we be burying? A half-truth that would never come to light. We would bury victims, and any chance they ever had of justice with them. We would be no better than those who came before us.” Aymeric said, passionate and predictable.“If the crime is one of unconscionable evil, we must needs condemn it—even should the transgressor be our closest kin. I said as much to her, once. I meant it then as much as I mean it now.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, because she felt she must.

It wasn’t her apology to make, not really. Not when the perpetrator might well be someone they so dearly loved. Not when, just this once, her hands were clean. Knowing that did not make her feel less dirty for the work.

No rest for the righteous and all that.

“You have done naught that needs forgiving.” he replied, his tone crisp and curt in that way it was at the war table.

Tapping the papers lightly against the palm of one hand to hastily straighten them, Aymeric folded the reports along the crease she had already made for them with quick, decisive movements, and held the stack out for her to take after only a moment’s hesitation.

In spite of herself, Lucia flinched.

“You will submit this as a cause for concern on the morrow, Ser Lucia.” he ordered. “You will formally request leave to pursue this case, and I will formally assign you to investigate it—which you will. Thoroughly. What evidence you find, you will submit in its entirety. Regardless of what your findings are.”

“Yes, Lord Commander.” she said in a voice of warped steel.

Lucia was reminded that he had gotten a commissioned piece when he began to fiddle with a small velvet box in his hand. Were it not for the way his expression crumpled, she might not have left him to his grief.

Even knowing the answer, her voice bent toward something softer as she asked him, “What did you commission?”

After a moment to swallow heavily, he gently set the box down on the table and said, “Depending on what this investigation yields…nothing.”

When he removed his hand, he hooked his thumb into the meet of the box’s hinge and lifted the lid to show Lucia the contents inside.

Nestled between layers of velvet coated cushions, adorned with a large but immaculately cut star sapphire wrapped in gold like a stained glass window, was a ring.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #aymeric de borel #wolmeric #wol x aymeric #lucia goe junius #serella arcbane #I am as ever your shield #I had an outline of this I'd been meaning to fill out and this seemed like the right prompt for it #I'm not really 'participating' in ffxivwrite so much as chasing vibes #literally anything to make the writing happen again

[morocosmos]

#loveintheair Day 2 - Long Distance

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Relationships: Estinien Wyrmblood, Warrior of Light, Estinien Wyrmblood/Aymeric de Borel Warnings: None Prompt List & Event by mischiefmilly Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Estinien scowls as he sets aside another bolt of fabric, adding it to a large pile as the attending weaver watches him with increasing ire. This was supposed to be a quick errand, sorted out in the time it took him to pass by the shop, but he’s been here for a quarter-bell now, wasting his time while the rest of the Scions begin to wonder where he’d gone.

For a moment, frustration takes over. Gift-giving is unlike him. Fretting over the precise colours on a swiving length of silk, even less so. Such tedious effort is meant for those with shrewd, mercantile minds (a certain Lalafellin woman comes to mind) or those in the throes of romance. And though the love he has for Aymeric is unshakeable, he feels about as inclined in towards romance as a karakul might the desire to fly. 

But one must not underestimate the value of a well-chosen gift in lieu of words that could not be put to parchment — one of many lessons he'd learnt from his eastward travels. And Aymeric does so love his blue.

The damning consequence of such a broad affection for the colour, however, means that Estinien is at a complete loss over what to pick for the man. Deep blues are by far his favourite, yet the same criteria suits far too many of the options available to him now. Should he simply try to match what he usually wears? Or choose something different?

A familiar man enters the room from the corner of his eye, and Moro’a blinks as he takes in what must be a wholly unexpected sight. “There you are,” he said, eyeing the whirlwind of blue-hued silks surrounding Estinien perplexedly. “The others are waiting at the High Crucible. Is…everything alright?”

Out of all the Scions, Moro’a is probably the one best suited to his predicament; he tilts his head towards the Warrior. “If you have an eye for fabrics, help me decide on one. I mean to send it ere we leave.”

“Send it? To whom?” Moro'a asks, sounding even more puzzled.

“To Aymeric, of course.” Moro'a and Aymeric are close enough friends by now that Estinien feels no need to hide the truth from his answer — surely he must know. But an odd look crosses the Miqo’te’s face, and for a moment Estinein thinks he may be mistaken after all, only for Moro’a to recover, his previous expression replaced by one of neutral appraisal.

“Alright. But we shouldn’t keep the others waiting.” Moro’a approaches him then, kneeling to examine the fabrics steadily piling around him like a silken moat.

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

“Not to worry, kupopo! The package will sit at your friend’s doorstep before tomorrow morning, or I’m not worth an ordinary kupo nut!” The delivery moogle flaps off with an intensity rivalling a small hurricane, leaving Estinien and Moro’a at the aetheryte plaza. 

“I suspect it will be a while before we hear our friend’s thoughts on the silk,” he commented. In the end, they’d decided on a bolt that matched the shores of Yedlihmad in daylight, with delicate gold embroidery styled in the shapes of running gaja.

“Mmm.” Moro’a has been in an unusual mood since they’d rescued the Matanga captives from the Tower of Zot, or perhaps even before. He stares off in the direction of Alzadaal’s Path; it’s been a day for dramatic turns, and Fury knows what could be on his mind. Not knowing the man well enough to guess, Estinien thinks it best to leave him to sort them out on his own.

Light rain patters through the large open ceiling, which has always puzzled him — did they want the aetheryte to get wet? He wonders what Aymeric would think of such a contrivance, and he doesn’t have to wonder very much; he would be fascinated by every aspect of this city, from its vibrant tiles to its heavily-spiced fare. Not for the first time, Estinien silently bemoans the way their individual desires continue to keep them apart, often for moons at a time. He could never stay in Ishgard long enough for him, even as Aymeric was bound to remain. But if Aymeric could persuade him to return…then perhaps he could convince him to journey here one day. When all of this is over.

For now, he could only hope his gift would convey that which he failed to do with words.

#kae scribbles #loveintheair xiv 2024 #estinien wyrmblood #can't get over the fact that estinien sees some nice fabric halfway across the world and immediately thinks of aymeric

[dawnslight-aegis]

13. check

(sequel/follow-up to last year's pawn.)

“Check.” The deep blue marble knight tapped lightly against her golden sandstone bishop, and Kaede plucked it from the board so Aymeric could move his piece into its place to threaten her king.

“I swear I beat Alphinaud like three times recently. Not that you can tell by how long it takes you to beat me.”

Cool blue eyes regarded her in amusement, and he turned his attention back down to the board. “Master Alphinaud is not bad at chess, but he plays far too defensively. You, on the other hand, tend to overstretch yourself. You wield your queen like a blade, as if she can win the game for you by her power alone.” The amusement in his expression faded, and turned more contemplative. “If you lose her, your strategy crumbles. You must learn how to utilize the strengths of every piece, from pawn to queen. And you must trust the lesser pieces to stand on their own, as well, without their champion.”

Kaede sighed and moved a rook to take Aymeric’s knight. “I feel like we’re not just talking about chess now, are we?”

“It often imitates life. The queen can no more win a war on her own than you can, my lady. At times, even the weakest soldier can be the one that tips the battle in your favor.” As he spoke, Aymeric nudged a pawn forward, and Kaede groaned in frustration to realize that the humble piece had blocked off her king’s only escape route. “Checkmate, dearest.”

Slumping back in her chair, Kaede eyed Aymeric with irritation – less due to the loss, and more due to the too-accurate assessment of her strategies. “I’m glad you are enjoying the new set, at least. Even if you are using it to systematically dismantle me in eight turns or less.”

“Very much so. I’ve had quite a few interesting conversations with members of the House of Lords on the differences in nomenclature between this version and dragonchess. And the way someone plays can reveal quite a bit about their mindset. ‘Twas a practical gift, as well as a thoughtful one.” He reset the board with swift, economical movements. “Would you like to play again?”

That pulled a reluctant smile to her face. “Gods above. Only you could receive a board game as a nameday gift and somehow turn it into work. But yes, fine. And this time, I will try to rely on my other pieces as well.”

“Nothing would please me more.”

#hi my name is eva and I love chess metaphors #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite 2023 #tales from the dawn

[hyzenthlay-kagon]

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Starlight Celebration── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── 

Ao3

___

Hyzenthlay watched the snow fall from the warmth of her apartment, sipping the heady Ishgardian style tea in comforting silence. She had woken up alone with Thancred’s side of the bed cold, showing that she had been alone for some time. She had no idea where he was or what time he had left. It was not unusual for Thancred to leave before Hyzenthlay woke up. He often would be gone for an extended period of time without a word of where he was going or when he would be back. Like a shadow he moved, one minute he was there and the next he was gone. 

“I hope he makes it back soon,” Hyzenthlay turned her attention to the House Fortemp invitation to their Starlight Celebration feast. A tradition that was once held in Ishgard when Starlight was still celebrated. One of the traditions that the newly appointed Count Artoirel was trying to restore with the assistance of his father.

With Ishgard opening its iron gates once more to the world, so did the once holiday that had been lost to Ishgard. Eorzea had taken it up, adapting new traditions with the old. Many of the noble houses were willing and eager to revive the forgotten holiday, surprisingly welcoming the new additions that Eorzea celebrated. They combined their wealth with the aid of Aymeric to decorate Ishgard to match the festive spirit of the Starlight Festival. It was wonderful to see joy in the city. With everything Ishgard and her people had gone through and lost. The people needed this. 

Hyzenthlay set the invitation back down on the coffee table. Her attention now turned to the medium sized evergreen tree that stood proudly in the corner of her apartment. She brought several of the children from the city to help her decorate the tree. Thancred had to lift the youngest of them to place the star on the very top. When it was time for them to leave, they were all given hand-crafted gifts with an assortment of sweets. 

“These kids are lucky,” Thancred said when the last of the children left, “That they have a happy memory for the Starlight Celebration.” 

“You didn’t have a good experience on Starlight in your youth?” 

“Hard to have a good experience when you are trying to survive on the streets.” Thancred gave a small smile, “Wish I had what you have given these children.” 

Hyzenthlay felt her throat constrict with emotion. She could see a young Thancred alone, cold and hungry on the streets. Watching others enjoying the holiday while he was forgotten in the shadows. How could anyone celebrate a holiday of giving and not bother to see the needy before them? For a child to go through that, especially alone. 

She shifted her attention to the small pile of presents nestled under the tree. Nearly all were written to her by various people she had encountered during her adventures. Souls she had helped and aided with mundane tasks such as delivering a package or the extremes of saving. There were a handful addressed to Thancred from their friends and from others he had helped as well. 

Hiding in plain sight was Thancred’s gift from Hyzenthlay. The only blessing with Thancred being gone most of the time was that Hyzenthlay could wrap his present without being sneaky about it. Not that he would snoop, though surprising with his skills in spying. He had seemed more aloof with the holiday around, and would go along with her on whatever endeavors she wanted to explore. There wasn’t a holiday like this on the Steppes and Hyzenthlay was excited to experience such a festive event. She too just wanted Thancred to feel the spirit of Starlight as well. 

“If anyone deserves this it would be Thancred,” Hyzenthlay thought to herself as she rose from her position on the couch to discard her mug in the sink, deciding to wash it at another time, “If only he could find the peace within himself.” 

Hyzenthlay turned from the sink to her bedroom, deciding it was time for her to get ready for her day of being Saint of Nymeia’s Helpers. 

Aymeric graciously asked for Hyzenthlay’s assistance with the endeavor, handing her the Saint’s garb. She had agreed of course, as it was for the children after all. But Tataru, upon seeing her in the costume Aymeric provided, was horrified to see the ill-fitting robe. It swallowed Hyzenthlay, evident that the robe was meant for an Elezen rather than a petite Au Ra. Tataru had nearly ripped the outfit off Hyzenthlay, before going off to tailor it to better fit. With the mischievous grin that Tataru had left with.

Nothing good ever came from that mischievous grin and holding up the newly made robe only made Hyzenthlay believe that even more. No longer was it the traditional red outfit with white trim worn by the Saint of Nymeia himself. But rather a strapless red velvet dress adorned with a soft, white fur trim on the hem of the skirt as well as around the edge of the neckline. Tataru had also added two new white pom-poms that ran down the center of the chest. 

“Tataru, you wicked thing.” Hyzenthlay held the dress up, sighing in defeat. 

She quickly shed out of her loungewear and slipped into the dress. True to Tataru’s craftsmanship, it fit perfectly, hugging in all the right places. Hyzenthlay took a moment to examine herself in the mirror, a sudden thought of Thancred crossed her mind. She imagined him behind her, kissing down her neck to her exposed shoulders. His calloused hands roaming, claiming, knowing all the places that would send electricity through Hyzenthlay’s veins. 

Heat swelled between her legs at the illicit thoughts. “What has he done to me?” She shook away the thought and busied herself by fixing her now chin length hair. Hyzenthlay regretted cutting it so short when she first arrived in Ishgard after the Bloody Banquet. But after hearing in passing by so many others that men had preferred women with long hair in Eorzea, she’d made a pitiful attempt to make herself less desirable after being separated from Thancred, and she had cut her dusty pink tresses into a boyish bob. It was probably childishness and foolishness, blamed for her inexperience and being ten years Thancred’s junior, but hair grows back and Thancred loved it either way. 

Hyzenthlay gave herself one final once over, deeming herself presentable for handing out presents as Saint of Nymeia’s little helper. She made her way to the Congregation where Aymeric was holding the gift giving. Thankfully, she had arrived before the children, stepping into the once dreary building that had now been transformed into what looked like a whimsical toy shop. And in its center, a throne, surrounded by boxes of various sizes wrapped in gold, green, red, and silver. 

“Fury take me!”

Hyzenthlay whipped around to spot Aymeric emerging from his office. She bit back her laughter upon seeing him dressed in the Saint of Nymeia costume, with what appeared to be a large pillow stuffed inside the large red coat to give the illusion of a belly. He was holding the red hat and white beard in hand. 

He stood wide-eyed with mouth agape, “I see Tataru made changes to your outfit.”

Hyzenthlay nodded sheepishly, “I wasn’t expecting you to be the Saint of Nymeia.”

Aymeric cleared his throat, placing the hat on his head and hastily putting on the beard, “How could I organize this and not be the jolly Saint himself?” 

Hyzenthlay laughed. 

  * * *

  Thancred adjusted his scarf to shield himself further from the frigid cold of Coerthas. He was fortunate enough to be traveling with good weather and decent roads. To add to his luck, Fluffle, Hyzenthlay’s chocobo was in obedient spirits today. Normally Fluffle would try to decapitate Thancred if he were within eyesight. Hyzenthlay often had to mediate and keep the large fowl in line. It was a mystery as to why the chocobo hated Thancred so, no matter how much he tried to get the bird to like him. 

“I know you and I aren’t on the best of terms,” Thancred cautiously said as he approached Fluffle’s stall that morning, “But I need your swift feet so that I can be back in Ishgard in time for Starlight.” He stepped closer to Fluffle who’s dark blue plumes were standing on end as he hissed in warning, “if not for me, for Hyzenthlay.” 

Fluffle’s feathers smoothed at the mention of Hyzenthlay’s name, but he still stood poised and ready to strike if the opportunity ever arose. His eyes locked on every movement Thancred made. 

“You can go back to hating me when Starlight is over.” Thancred offered the handful of gysahl greens, “What do you say?”

Thancred could see the gears turning in the large bird’s head, contemplating the offer as if he understood everything being said. He clicked his beak in rapid succession before snatching the greens from Thancred’s hand. 

Thancred released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, “I shall take that as a yes.”

Fluffle kweked in response, sealing the truce.

Thancred dismounted once they had entered the gates of Revenant’s Toll. Fluffle followed in step as they made their way toward the market. As fast as the crowd would allow, they maneuvered their way to the vendor that Thancred had business with. A recommendation from one of Hyzenthlay’s companions, a Xaela male, Zietius, who was displaced from the Azim Steppes at a young age, finding himself alone in Eorzea. He joined the Adventurers Guild around the time Hyzenthlay arrived in Eorzea and brought it to herself to be his friend. A rocky start on a friendship with Hyzenthlay’s outgoing nature versus Zietius’s quieter demeanor, but over time the Xaela male became a faithful companion. Even Thancred found himself becoming friends with the taller male. 

Thancred made it to the stall, where he saw Zietius chatting with the vendor, another Xaela, a female with hair like starlight that complimented her dark, gray-purple skin, “Sain uu.”

“Sain uu.” The female Xaela greeted Thancred with a smile, “You speak our language well.”

Thancred thanked her, “I have a good teacher.” He couldn’t help the small smile as he thought of Hyzenthlay teaching him her native tongue. Thancred greeted Zietius with a nod, who had greeted him in the same way, “I apologize for coming at such last minute, I couldn’t get away until now.”

Zietius waved Thancred off, “You are a busy man, I’m sure Hyzen will forgive you for the last minute shopping.” He eyed the various wares fondly, “Any thoughts of what to get her?”

Thancred took a moment to scan over the wares, hoping something would scream ‘Hyzenthlay’. “Truth be told, I struggle to think of what she would want or need.” He furrowed his brow, picking up a bracelet. No matter what he thought of getting his beloved, nothing seemed to be enough. She deserved everything, more than whatever Thancred could offer her. Even his Valentione’s Day present hadn’t seemed like enough. 

Thancred set the bracelet down. He thought seeing items from Hyzenthlay’s homeland would make it easier, but it was the exact opposite. He wanted to purchase the whole stand's worth, but that wouldn’t seem sincere. He raked his hand through his unkempt hair in frustration. He took a deep breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes, he spotted a dark blue blanket hanging in the back corner of the stall that reminded him of the sky when day bled into night, the same blue as Hyzenthlay’s right eye. White stars were speckled throughout the fabric. 

“That blanket,” Thancred pointed to its direction, “May I see it?”

The female Xaela smiled, plucking the blanket from its display stand, “This blanket was woven from the wool of the dzo.” She laid the blanket in front of Thancred, “The warmest material you’ll ever find.”

Thancred ran his fingers over the blanket, finding that it was surprisingly soft and felt nothing like any other fabric sold in Eorzea. “Do all tribes within the Azim Steppes have blankets like this?” 

The female nodded, “I have heard that the nights within the Nhaama Desert get particularly cold for how hot it is during the day.”

Hyzenthlay was prone to getting cold, especially living in Coerthas. “Hyzenthlay is of the Kagon tribe, she told me that her people are active during the night. She loved watching the stars and the quiet of the night.” Thancred spoke mostly to himself as he traced the stars on the blanket. “How much for the blanket?” Thancred asked the vendor. 

“For you,” the female smiled warmly, “Fifty gil, and I’ll even gift wrap it for free for you.” She folded the blanket neatly as Thancred pulled out the gil needed from his pouch. 

Thancred handed her the money and waited patiently for the blanket to be wrapped. Zietius remained quiet all the while, his eyes locked on the wares. 

“I never thought I’d see anything from the Steppes since I began living in Eorzea,” Zietius whispered, running a tentative hand over a turquoise necklace.

Thancred said nothing. There was nothing he could say that would ease the sadness Zietius held. Thancred too was misplaced from his home of Limsa, but he could visit it whenever he wished. Zietius and Hyzenthlay didn’t have that luxury. They were malms away and travel would be arduous from what Thancred had heard from sailors and traders. The course to Othard was nearly impossible. With a tithe having to be paid just for safe passage and the empire’s grip growing tighter. 

“I’m sure one day you can return to the Azim Steppes once more.” Thancred reassured him. 

Zietius turned his attention to Thancred, “I want to believe that. But I’ve been gone for so long. Eorzea is more of my land than the Steppes. As strange as your traditions are, truth be told, I never participated in your holidays, not even once until Hyzen bulldozed into my life.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in a fond smile, “She does have a way to spark joy in things.”

Thancred chuckled at that. He himself never was fond of the Starlight Celebration nor any of the other holidays. But since Hyzenthlay came into his life with innocent enthusiasm, he couldn’t help but want to be a part of it. “She does, like a fire.” 

Zietius nodded in agreement. 

The shopkeeper handed the now wrapped blanket to Thancred, ending his and Zietius’ conversation. Good timing, Thancred had to make it back to Ishgard in time for the Fortemp’s feast. As much as he had a distaste for noble parties, Hyzenthlay wanted to attend. He secured the gift in his saddlebag. 

“Tell Hyzen I said hi,” Zietius waved Thancred off as he mounted Fluffle, “And tell her thank you for the Starlight gift.”

Thancred bid farewell to Zietius before commanding Fluffle to run. He had a long journey back to Ishgard and couldn’t afford to waste time. Fluffle was nearly pushed to his limits as he sped through the winter landscape of Coerthas. He too seemed determined to rush back to Ishgard and wasn’t going to let up the pace he was at. Even when Thancred tried to ease the pace, Fluffle would not obey and continue his course. 

The familiar spires of Ishgard came into view as day bled into night. Thancred pat Fluffle’s neck in encouragement and gratitude. He wouldn’t have been able to make the trip without Hyzenthlay’s loyal steed. Despite their dislike for one another, they had one thing in common. Their love for Hyzenthlay. 

Fluffle all but collapsed upon crossing the steel gates. Thancred dismounted, leading Fluffle to a water trough. “Well done Fluffle.” He stroked the midnight blur of feathers on Fluffle’s neck as he watched him guzzle the water. 

Thancred took a moment to inspect Fluffle’s condition. Exhausted, but none worse for wear. The young age of the chocobo could be the reason he wasn’t worse off. Older birds would have been past the brink halfway through the journey. 

Once Fluffle had his fill of water, Thancred guided him to the stables, instructing the stable boy to fully groom Fluffle as well as an extra serving of gysahl greens. “The truce ends here.” Thancred stroked Fluffle’s beak, “You can go back to hating me.” 

In response, Fluffle pecked the top of Thancred’s head. Gentler than he has ever been before, but still hurt no less. Thancred rubbed the sore area on his head, smiling at the chocobo with fondness. He ruffled Fluffle’s feathers in farewell, leaving him in the capable hands of the stable boys. Thancred snatched Hyzenthlay’s gift from his saddle back as he left the stable. 

He traveled the familiar cobblestone streets to Hyzenthlay’s apartment. The streets being practically empty with only a few stragglers, like Thancred with festively wrapped parcels, rushing to get to their destination. Peering into a few of the windows as he passed the houses, where families gathered around their decorated trees, laughing and passing presents to one another. A picture book moment. Thancred wouldn’t be lying if he said he wasn’t a tad bit jealous. He never had a warm experience growing up, no family to go to to exchange gifts or to share a warm meal. He only had an empty stomach and himself, growing up to resent the holiday. Even when he was spirited away to Sharlayan, becoming a Scion, he did everything he could to avoid observing the celebration. Gifts were given to his colleagues, yes, but they felt hollow. 

With Hyzenthlay, there were no empty sentiments. He lacked in so many ways, but he couldn’t ruin Hyzenthlay’s first Starlight Celebration. Not like how he had ruined Minfila’s Starlight by not being around. Only sending her a present via Moogle delivery with a best wishes card.

“Oi, Thancred!”

Thancred swiveled to the direction from where his name was called to find Hilda sauntering toward him. Gone were her normal tactical garb and shotgun, replaced with a simple, yet fashionable forest green dress. Draped over her shoulders, a raven black fur shawl. She looked stunning, no longer the Mongrel but a debutante. Though her obvious discomfort was visible, she wore the dress well. 

“Hilda,” Thancred tucked Hyzenthlay’s present under his arm, “I see Tataru got a hold of you for the Fortemp Feast.” 

Hilda shifted in discomfort, “Damn her for it.”

Thancred laughed at that. Tataru even got a custom suit for him, one that would complement Hyzenthlay’s dress. He never got a chance to see the dress Tataru made for Hyzenthlay, a secret she wanted to keep until the feast. “Hyzenthlay is waiting for me, we shall see you at the Fortemp Manor.” 

Hilda waved Thancred off, leaving him once again alone on the cobblestone streets. He activated his linkpearl, calling Hyzenthlay to let her know he would be home soon. 

  * * *

Hyzenthlay stood before her fireplace, facing the door with Thancred’s gift in hand, anxiously waiting for Thancred. She had been standing there since Thancred had called her not long ago. By her math, Thancred should be walking through the door any second. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the click of her door unlocking. 

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long Hyzen—” Thancred was cut short when he opened the door. His visible eye wide and his mouth slightly agape.

“Happy Starlight Minii Zürkh,” Hyzenthlay beamed at Thancred.

“By the Twelve,” He mumbled, his eyes glued on Hyzenthlay as he stumbled to close the door, “Is this the dress you are wearing to the feast?” 

Hyzenthlay twirled teasingly, “Why? You don’t like it?” She was still wearing her strapless Saint’s dress Tataru made. “After all the work Tataru put into making this for me.”

“It’s not that,” Thancred moved toward Hyzenthlay once he gained composure, “You look breathtaking.” Thancred slid his hand under her skirt, as his lips claimed hers in a heated kiss. 

Hyzenthlay groaned, melting into the kiss, “Minii Zürkh,” Hyzenthlay said between kisses, “Thancred, if you keep this up you won’t be able to open your present.”

“Thought I was opening my present now,” Thancred teased.

Hyzenthlay reluctantly pushed Thancred away to hand him his gift, “This is your present.” 

Thancred ripped off the wrapping paper in mild annoyance. He stared at the dark wooden box. On the lid were carved waves. He looked up at Hyzenthlay, who only smiled back. She took the box from Thancred before slightly tilting it to expose a gold turnkey on its bottom. She turned it a few times until she met resistance. Hyzenthlay handed the box back to Thancred and instructed him to open it. Thancred obeyed, growing still as a familiar tune filled the room.

Hyzenthlay reached to remove his bandana, “Your lullaby.” She cupped his cheek, running the pad of her thumb under his icy blue eye.

Thancred rested a hand over Hyzenthlay’s, turning his head to kiss her palm, “It’s lovely. Thank you.” 

Hyzenthlay watched him place the still playing music box on the coffee table. He hummed along to the melody a few moments before turning back to Hyzenthlay.

“I can’t be the only one receiving gifts.” He handed Hyzenthlay the cheerfully wrapped parcel. “Happy Starlight Minii Zürkh.”

Hyzenthlay graciously took the present from Thancred, sitting down near the fireplace to better manage opening it. Thancred followed suit and sat across from her as she began to rip the paper open. “Oh Thancred.” 

She held up the blanket. It had been so long since she had felt dzo wool. Nothing in Eorzea could compare to the material of her homeland. Even in Coerthas where the weather was permanently stuck in winter. No matter the furs or wools she wore the cold seeped in. She had always thought it was because she was built for life in the desert and not the colder climates. 

She wrapped the blanket around her, letting the familiar warm seep into her body in comfort. It felt as if she was back in her family’s yurt in the cool nights of the Nhaama Desert, back home to the Azim Steppes. But that was only half of where her heart felt at home. The other half was sitting before her. Thancred.  

She smiled up at Thancred, the smile that creased her eyes to little crescent moons. She opened her arms, leaping into Thancred as she wrapped him in the blanket with her. Her lips locked with Thancred’s, chaste at first, but then longer, deeper. It didn’t take long for Thancred to return the kisses, deepening them further. Hyzenthlay smiled in the kiss when she felt Thancred’s calloused hand roam up her skirt. 

A noise that was a mix between a gasp and a moan escaped Hyzenthlay’s lips when Thancred lowered her on the floor on top of the blanket, all the while not breaking the kiss. She looped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. As warm as the dzo wool was, Thancred was warmer. She let the blanket fall around her, feeling more of Thancred’s warmth. She clawed at Thancred’s shirt buttons, desperate and fumbling. 

She felt Thancred chuckle against her lips, sending a vibration down her spine. He stood on his knees, his deft fingers making fast work of his buttons. He shrugged off his shirt, the flames of the fireplace casting dancing shadows on his hard torso. Hyzenthlay felt her face grow hot at the sight. No matter how often she saw Thancred shirtless, it always felt like the first time. She sat up, reaching for the hidden zipper on her back.

Thancred reached out to stop her, “I want you in the dress.” His voice low, hungry. His eyes dark as he lowered Hyzenthlay back down on the blanket. He used his knee to spread Hyzenthlay’s legs apart. 

A moan caught in Hyzenthlay’s throat as Thancred’s thumb traced illicit circles on her inner thigh, creeping closer to the edge of her underclothes. His lips trailed hot kisses on her neck, causing her to writhe. Her back arched off the floor when Thancred finally shifted her underclothes to the side and slipped two fingers in her entrance. She gripped blindly at the blanket underneath her, biting back the moans from escaping as Thancred pumped his fingers in and out of her. Skillfully he’d curl his fingers so, grazing the sweet spot. His thumb worked on her clit in tight circles all the while, sending her closer to the edge. 

Thancred pulled out just when she was teetering to her climax. Hyzenthlay’s protests were silenced upon seeing Thancred unbuckling his pants, lowering them enough to expose his hardened member. Hyzenthlay bit her bottom lip, watching as Thancred aligned himself to her entrance. She hissed in discomfort when he slipped inside her. She looped her arms around Thancred’s neck, hitching her leg around his waist, slowly her body adjusted to the penetration. 

“Gods,” Thancred moaned, “You’ve ruined me.”

Hyzenthlay moved her hand to cup his cheek, smiling as she kissed him, “Does it feel different?” 

Thancred kissed Hyzenthlay back. Teeth scraping against one another as he rolled his hip back before plummeting back into Hyzenthlay. “With you, yes. I don’t know how I managed all these years without you.” He thrust into her again, harder and deeper this time. “I love you.”

Hyzenthlay rolled her head back, rolling her hips to meet Thancred with each thrust. She could no longer hold back her moans. She clawed at Thancred’s back, drawing him deeper into her. Thancred found her lips again, swallowing her moans. 

“Thancred,” Hyzenthlay gasped his name, “Thancred.” She didn’t know where she was anymore or who she was. All she knew was Thancred, his body, “Thancred, I—” 

“I know Minii Zürkh.” Thancred sped his thrusts, “I got you, let go.” 

Hyzenthlay exploded in what felt like a million pieces. Holding tight to Thancred as her body convulsed in delicious ecstasy. She felt as if she had flown to the heavens, seeing stars dancing around her. When it was all over, she was nothing but loose limbs in Thancred’s arms. 

Thancred rested his forehead against hers, taking in the afterglow. The gentle melody of the music box played in the background. The sudden chime of the chronometer signaled the eighth bell.

Thancred chuckled as the last of the chimes echoed, “Looks like we missed the feast.” 

Hyzenthlay laughed along with Thancred, “Looks like it.” 

“Pity, I was oh so looking forward to seeing you in your evening dress.” Thancred pouted.

Hyzenthlay smiled impishly, “I can always try it on,” She brushed her lips against his ear as she whispered, “But it does look better on the floor.”

Before Hyzenthlay could say anything else, Thancred picked her up with the blanket, carrying her to their bedroom. 

#Hyzencred #Hyzenthlay Kagon #OC: Hyzenthlay Kagon #Wolcred #Thancred Waters #Fanfic #Ao3 #ffxiv thancred #thancred x hyzenthlay #Starlight Celebration #smut #Spicy content #writing #ffxiv oc #ffxiv fanfic #fanfiction #Holidays #Christmas #Smut is a bit rusty #thancred #thancred ffxiv #ffxiv #ffxiv au'ra #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #au ra #ff14 #ffxiv au ra #ffxiv heavensward #ffxiv wol

[galaxxiwrites]

Gifts

Finally posted something in a while lol...I'm so sorry for the almost whole year of inactivity. For a while I was busy adjusting myself between work and school, I've had a few burn outs here and there, and most of the time I just feel exhausted to even use my brain for anything hhhhhh

Warnings: not proofread, this is pretty much just a warm up for me

ft. The Ishgard Husband Trio

Notorious for giving you any and every gifts that reminds him of you, a habit which he started when he heard of your out-of-dimension adventures.

Wether it's his own coping mechanism because he misses you dearly, or if he just wants to give you things to remember him by as you both travel your owns paths, you'll never know as he refuses to tell you anything.

Little gizmos and gadgets and different thingamabobs, like hair ties costing up to four digits.

"My brother in Hydaelyn, HOW MUCH did you pay for this?"

He tries to diffuse the situation by saying he got it on a good deal, and you swear you could feel your heart sink as he said those words.

Pray never tell Tataru of Estinien's financial misadventures, or she will turn all hells over its head just from her fury.

Luckily his time in Thavnair made him street smarter, and he just doesn't impulsively buy things anymore without bargaining.

But every once in a while he gives you something expensive that is actually worth its price.

Like beautiful jewelry, some fine food, or a full-body Elphant suit in your favourite color.

Aymeric is a man who prefers to give simple gifts to you whenever you make your way to Ishgard. Boquets of roses, golden accessories, stuffed toys to keep around as you little companion. All best of what Ishgard has to offer, fit for the person he loved as much as his homeland.

Thanks to the opening of its borders, Aymeric's gifts had been growing in variety lately. Fine wares from Thavnair to decorate your nonexistent home, fashionable Ul'dahn fashion which has slowly warmed the hearts of the once proud Elezens, beautiful flowers enchanted to wilt a little slower from Gridania...

Although as of lately, you've started to notice a somber look on his face whenever he received gifts for you—despite his efforts to quickly hide it with a resignated smile.

"Do I not appreciate your gifts? My love, I apologize. I have never once been burdened by your gifts." He holds his tongue for a moment, causing you to drip down cold sweat in anticipation.

"I adore them, each and every single one of them. Why, I've dedicated an entire room to fill it with all the presents you've bestowed upon me. In fact, I was wondering my same—as a seasoned adventurer, do my gifts not bore you?"

You couldn't stop yourself from busrting out laughing— Despite his appearance, the House of Lords can be quite the cutie.

Haurchefant loved all yours gifts. So many things you would bring home back to the Fortemps manor were all so different from the same things he has grown accustomed to.

Like tea from Gridania, fine jewelries from Ul'dah, or perhaps a few hefty bottles of Limsa's finest spirits, the likes of which was enough to leave himself amd his family heavily intoxicated after a few shots.

For every gift that you've given to Haurchefant, he has one in return. The freshest of gyashl greens from the Sea of Clouds for your trusted black chocobo (which was itself a present from him as well), luxurious Ishgardian attire of the finest cloths for your overflowing glamour dresser...

Though the ones you cherish the most were the love-filled kisses and tight embraces the two of your shared, wether it be within the privacy of his own quarters or amongst the crowd of disapproving Ishgardians.

...Or so, that was how things were until that fateful day you've lost him.

For so long you've clung on to those memories of fleeting blissfulness, holding them so close to your chest in fear that they may flutter away as well.

But that was a past that has come and gone, and throughout the years you've healed. You've forgiven yourself, and you even allowed yourself another chance to be intimate with another.

If there was one thing that the journey to the ends of the universe has taught you, it is that life is beatiful, even through the pain and anguish. That the memories will ways be a part of you through every step of the journey—that he will be there with you always, and that alone is enough comfort for you to keep going on.

"That was all he could ever ask for. Your happiness." Francel tells you as he makes his way to his old's friends grave.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt your time together." The young Elezen's voice quivered from the cold.

You brush it off, saying that he knows better than anyone that Haurchefant loved the company of many.

You placed the boquet down on his grave, a colorful batch picked from Thavnair, thinking he would have loved to see these, and how you'll come back with even more grand stories.

You decided it was best to head back to the city proper, realizing that you've been out for too long and that you're probably fatigued. Though you swore you cold have heard a clear whisper among the wind—a quiet but clear Thank you.

#i swear I love haurchefant a normal amount.... #ffxiv #ffxiv haurchefant #ffxiv aymeric #ffxiv estinien #estinien x wol #estinien x reader #estinien wyrmblood #estinien varlineau #aymeric de borel #ser aymeric #ffxiv headcanons #omg i havent been in the tags in so long lmao

[the-unending-journey]

Okay, finally getting around to making this. Here's my cast of misfits!

Kiyo Himemitsu de Haillenarte

The Warrior of Light, albeit rather reluctant about it. Kiyo's life had a rough start after losing both her parents and her hometown in an invasion by a contingent of Garleans. She did manage to escape with the help of her older brother, and the two of them ended up in Tailfeather where the hunters there taught them to survive the harsh wilderness. Well, that is until one very charitable Ishgardian noblewoman found them and took them in as her own, molding Kiyo into the respectable lady she is today. While she doesn't like being branded as the hero, she does enjoy helping the less fortunate, following in her late mother's footsteps as a holy woman and a healer

Panacea (Azem)

Kiyo's Azem (true name Panacea); a warm and very friendly woman that spent most of her days tirelessly working as a Word of Halmarut to study the various flora of the star. Most of her research was in finding various methods to heal and create medicines, though she did dabble in a Concept creation or two. Her most infamous were Morbols, with Panacea wanting to create a sort of cure-all from the secretions of these noxious creatures. That didn't work out too well...

Even still, this didn't stop Halmarut recommending her for the seat of Azem, and with Venat backing her up, Panacea's life became much more interesting as she made her travels and lived a life of adventure

Ryunosuke Himemitsu de Haillenarte

Kiyo's eldest sibling and her only blood relative that she has left. Just like Kiyo, he was witness to the atrocity of the Garlean takeover of his hometown and helpless to stop it, along with everything that came after. This included being forcibly conscripted into their ranks when he was a decent enough age, thus being torn away from his mother and sister for a time. He did manage to escape and return home, only to run with the only one left of his family to somewhere far, FAR away from Othard. Like I stated above with Kiyo, he was adopted into one of the Ishgardian High Houses, though he didn't take to it nearly as well as Kiyo.

While he hates that his baby sister is The Chosen One(tm), he does everything in his power to support and protect her. He also follows in his late father's footsteps of being a samurai and does mercenary side work. This also helps him search for another one the Garleans took from him - his only true love

Lucinne de Haillenarte

Yes she's a member of one of the High Houses of Ishgard. Yes, it's the one with the most open-minded Ishgardian nobility you'd ever meet (besides the Fortemps and Aymeric) and Lucinne is honestly no different. A retired temple knight, Lucinne strives to bring change to Ishgard much like her nephews, especially so after losing both her husband and only son in the Dragonsong War

Despite losing her only child, she did still have family in the form of a very sickly Brume girl and two very distraught Au Ra, and she loves them just as much. She also extremely proud of the accomplishments from them and her niece and nephews, and does all that she can to protect and support them

(I wish I could make her look a little more aged)

Shun'u Morimoto

A fiery and passionate young lady, Shun'u hails from Tamamizu and counts herself as one of its denizens. Originally from Hingashi, Shun'u was just an infant when the ship carrying her and her parents met an unfortunate end in a nasty storm. While most of the passengers perished (including Shun'u's parents), the baby was found by a pair of Kojin that saved her from the wreckage. Thanks to them, she was given a second chance at life as well as a new, loving family

When she became of age, Shun'u was gifted a spear that housed her family's guardian kami within it and set out to hone her fighting skills, as well as see what the world had to offer outside of her home's protective little bubble. She ends up signing on with a traveling group of voidsent hunters disguised as an entertainment troupe

Una Fashonti

Don't really have much on this lady at the moment but here are some facts

she's been blind since birth

left her tribe for various reasons, the biggest one being just a pursuit of knowledge of the star

a lot of this curiosity is spent towards studying the lost civilization of Allag

has an Allagan node that she repurposed to be an assistant and seeing-eye node

has a strong affinity for black magick

is the one that gifted Kiyo her Allagan speaking device

tsundere-adjacent (grumpy goth girl)

The twins - Olvir and Ukina Iryut

Other characters I haven't really worked on much, so here's some facts for them as well

both left their forest home. Ukina was the one that made the decision and she managed to find her twin brother and convinced him to leave with her

started up a traveling entertainment troupe which became a secret group of voidsent hunters after a few incidents

Ukina is actually Kiyo's teacher in the martial dancing arts

On the flip-side, Olvir is the one that trains and partners up with Kiyo in her reaper AU

Ukina is the friendlier one of the twins. It's not that her brother is mean, he's just not great with social situations (broody goth boy)

the both of them care greatly for each other, as well as the other members of their group

#ffxiv #ffxiv screenshots #my screens #oc: kiyo #oc: panacea #oc: ryu #oc: lucinne #oc: shun'u #oc: una #oc: the twins

[dragoon-mid-jump]

FFXIVWrite 2023 Prompt #8: Shed

shed (v.): to discard (something undesirable, superfluous, or outdated)

Rating: General

Word count: 246

Y'dehlya handed Aymeric a small box with a lid. It was designed to resemble a wrapped gift, complete with a bow on top. "Here. Before I forget, I wanted to give you this ere we depart from Ishgard."

Aymeric smiled warmly at her as he took it. "You shouldn't have." He opened the box. When he saw its contents, he slowly lifted his head, his expression one of wide-eyed surprise and concern. "This is your job stone."

"Aye, it is. I've decided to shed the mantle of Azure Dragoon, and I wish to entrust you with my symbol of that duty I had undertaken during my time here. I could think of no better person to keep it."

"Dehlya, I cannot accept this." He put the lid back on and hurriedly tried to return it, but she pushed against the box.

"Aymeric, please." She begged. He could see tears begin to form at the corners of her eyes. "Please."

"This stone is the source of your abilities, as it is for all our knights who come to bear the title of 'Dragoon'. I cannot in good conscience send you off to your next mission with the Scions under-equipped."

"I promise you, dear, I no longer have need of it. Both in ability...and in obligation."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before meeting her eyes again. "Very well. I understand. I shall keep it safe."

"Thank you." She said, barely above a whisper.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2023 #WoL #My WoLs #Y'dehlya Rhikta #Aymeric de Borel

[milesducemdominus]

@herosluminis asked: There’s a gift from Estinien left for him at his home; an actual set of typical Thavnairian attire (dyed blue, of course) instead of the sill elephant costume he’d sent before. A small note wishes a happy nameday and a threat promise to take him on a vacation soon.

How wonderful it was, to walk in from the endless cold of the outdoors and into the very warmth of his home only to be told a package had arrived that morning and had been left within his study.

Warm and comfortable clothing for lounging about his abode was donned first and, with the gentle scuff of slippers 'pon the wooden flooring, did Aymeric make his way to the aforementioned study to find the mystery package.

At first glance it appeared perfectly normal but he didn't recall ordering aught from any tailor nor the Crozier. 'T is only as he looks more closely - hands gripping either side - that he notes the copious amounts of stamps littering the one side leading from Gridania and Sharlayan, through cities leading straight to Ishgard.

His mind that turns to only one person and the sentimental smile in which overtakes his expression night radiates in the low light that comes through from the frost covered window. He sits, quietly, with the package within his hands and slowly, as if it is but the greatest gift he could have ever received, does he open it to reveal the beauty of its contents.

Fingertips traced intricate designs and his heart swelled with utter adoration, the simple sights of the attire enough to flatter him to the very core.

The the letter - he holds with both hands and reads and re-reads scrawled words over and over again, the smile upon his face blossoming further until he found himself rather choked up on the words - a sleeve raising to brush at eyes.

"Ah, how nice it would be to see and speak to you, my friend." Aymeric utters towards the note as if it is Estinien himself: "Time away is... Long overdue, I believe. You'll receive no resistance from me. Not this time. Simply keep yourself safe in the mean time.: always are you in my prayers."

#Aym getting v v v sentimental omg #letters from the aether || asks ||

[elfyourmother]

Last night I finally completed the foyer of Château Greystone, the royal estate. As back story, Parliament actually voted to establish a royal residence for Aymeric way back in SB, but debated where it should go for ages.

The House of Lords insisted it should be located within the Pillars for reasons of obvious self-interest, but Aymeric felt it would send the wrong message about why he restored the throne. As the self-professed People’s King, he insisted he should live among the commons.

The Firmament was the perfect solution, as a potent symbol of Ishgard’s rebirth and new, egalitarian, forward-looking future, spearheaded by Prince Stephanivien’s house. The royal family living there—the heroes who ended the war and made it possible—would make folk flock to it, thus contributing to its growth and allow it to flourish. So construction began when the area was complete. “Greystone” was chosen as its name by Gisele, not only to honor Prince Haurchefant, but as a powerful rebuke to the prejudices that irrevocably shaped his life and Aymeric’s.

Its actual location is in the heart of the Firmament, on the plateau overlooking Snowsoak; the FC Medium I got in Empyreum is a placeholder since I’ll never get the equivalent Large plot. But here’s a tour nonetheless.

Prince Haurchefant's portrait offers a friendly greeting immediately on the left, as a nod to him being the first to welcome Gisele to Coerthas.

His Majesty is ofc directly at the far end, surrounded by blue flowers. Aymeric is a botanist well versed in the Ishgardian language of flowers and all of the plants in the manor were selected by him to send subtle messages. The orange trees in the antechamber convey joy and mirth to put guests at ease, for example. The roses beneath the royal portraits all correspond to their signature colors.

Prince Estinien has dragons flanking him, ofc. Those statues were a gift from Hien.

Around the corner there's a small antechamber that serves as a reception area for guests to relax while they await an audience or are otherwise welcomed. A trick bookshelf hides the entrance leading to Prince Stephanivien's workshop. (Meta: the FC chamber door. I decided the FC workshop is canon, but it’s Stephanivien’s tinkering cave) Speaking of which: he went nuts designing fortifications and defensive mechanisms for the estate. If he activates a specific series of levers, the entire visible upper part of the manor can pull in on itself and submerge entirely underground, the whole estate sinking several levels deeper with it (bearing in mind Ishgardian manors are built down). Just like Figaro Castle.

Hades helped with designing some of the architectural details, which is why there’s a subtle Amaurotine vibe (all the pillars, mainly). Construction on the manor didnt start until after the Firmament was complete since that’s where it’s located, so he was back by then.

But there’s a lot of subtle nods to the entire elfpile throughout this area. There's a Fortemps chandelier, roses are Gisele's signature ofc but are also to honor House Haillenarte, as is the wall decor in Haillenarte Green. The halberds near the fireplace are for Estinien. The moogle fountain* for Ysayle. XD

*A note on the fountain: is silly ofc and Estinien's portrait faces it because Ysayle thinks it's hilarious. But it's also an easter egg for me. The Grand Floridian Resort & Spa at Walt Disney World has a fountain w Mary Poppins penguins as you enter the foyer of the original DVC building, fancy & whimsical at the same time:

#gisele surana #the elfpile #chateau greystone

[eva-cybele]

7. pawn

Aymeric rolled a piece of deep blue marble between his fingers, shaped in a way that was unfamiliar, even though he knew its function quite well. Were this the variety of chess he had grown up with, the piece would have been called a temple knight – but this version, played in other parts of Eorzea, called it a pawn.

The other pieces were different, too, of course. Instead of the Archbishop and the Fury, the king and queen stood together at the center of the board, flanked by knights, rather than dragoons. The bishops were the same in both, but vigils were rooks, instead, though they kept their castle appearance. And most of all, the set across the board differed only in color, not in form – no wyverns or aevis or wyrms to threaten his army. Just an identical army carved from warm, golden-hued stone.

The board and its exquisitely carved pieces had arrived two days prior, a gift for his thirty-third nameday, though he hadn’t the time to open it until now. The accompanying note, penned in an elegant, familiar hand, had read:

Your old set is a bit outdated now that the war’s over, isn’t it? This one suits you better. I’ll practice with Alphinaud on the way to Doma, maybe by the time we overthrow the Empire I’ll last more than ten turns against you. -K

He had almost laughed at that, but the small name labels that the Warrior of Light had put on each piece had caught his eye and given him pause, instead.

Pawns – not infantry, not soldiers. When chess had come to Ishgard, someone had looked at the weak, disposable pawn and said ah, these are the Temple Knights.

And it had been true, hadn’t it? The Dragonsong War had as much truth and meaning to it as a game of dragonchess, all of them pieces sacrificed in its service. For meaningless victory, ever out of reach.

But the pawn’s hidden strength was its ability to rise above its station, to journey farther than its fellows and return stronger for it. Much as he had gone from the adopted bastard of a penniless minor noble to Lord Commander, and from there to remake Ishgard – to change the very game that was being played.

If only the new board he had set had not placed him at its center, barely able to move under the weight of responsibility. The most critical piece, but the most restricted. At times he wished that what his detractors claimed was true – that he had thrown Ishgard into disarray in order to secure his own position, because if he had, he surely would have chosen one that was less burdensome. For who would choose to be the Archbishop when they could be the Fury?

With a sigh and a glance at the clock, Aymeric replaced the pawn among its fellows, closing the box and slipping it into the depths of a desk drawer. Duty called once again, and he must answer.

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite #I had lots more ideas for this prompt but real life exploded on me and I ran out of time #alas #aymeric de borel #sons of ice and fury

[humblemooncat]

#MiqoMarch - Day 3, Family

In lieu of a more well-done gpose since I was entranced by MSQ today, and likely will be tomorrow as well (I'm nearing the end of Endwalker proper!), I wanted to at least share my write-ups for Ki'to's family from the big relations post I'm slowly writing up. As well as a couple of shots I got of the retainers I made to visualize his older siblings, Ki'a and Khomi.

All family write-ups will be under the read more! And maybe I'll try to do some extra gpose stuff in the morning before I pick MSQ back up for the day.

Mother Ki Vashai; A talented, Ishgardian-trained goldsmith. A trade she picked up whilst in Ishgard's walls to pick up/trade for supplies only available in the city. She made a tidy sum with her skill, and it's said that one can even now see her pieces adorning some of the nobility of Ishgard. (It's my lil headcanon that she made the earring & cuff that Aymeric now wears) She was the one who crafted for her 5 children an earring to symbolize their faith and devotion to Menphina. A gift she bestowed upon each after their first pilgrimage to Her shrine.

Father Nhev'ra Desaali; A fisherman by trade, though formerly a bard. An accident which left him blind in one eye and clouded vision in the other left him with little choice but to lay down his bow. Nowadays he uses his way with words and song to keep the clan's history alive, as well as delighting the younglings with tales of heroes of eld. In fact, it was tales of his far-flung adventures that sparked little Ki'to's wish to see the world. The first map he was ever given came from his father, and he treasures it to this day; its edges well-loved and its margins now filled with dates of visits.

Siblings Ki'a Vashai; A headstrong man, and far more reckless than his younger brother, if you could believe it. He makes his way these days as a Dragoon, lending his lance wheresoever it might be needed. This occasionally lands him under his brother's supervision, much to his chagrin. The two have a playful sibling rivalry between them and one can often see Alisaie go to get a snack when Ki'a walks into the Rising Stones as whatever will unfold when those two are together is sure to be amusing.

Khomi Vashai; One could swear she and Y'shtola were cut from the same cloth until she's thrust into battle; with a greataxe in hand and a foul mouth that would make a pirate blush, her demeanor is like night and day. These days she wanders Eorzea, her feet carrying her where the winds lead, helping out those she can along the way. Most recently one could have seen her among the front lines at The Ghimlyt Dark, as well as endearing herself to the Dotharl on a trek through Garlemald.

Ki'li Vashai; One of Ki'to's younger twin brothers. A Botanist by trade, and loved by the elementals. As the twins were born mute, unable to use their vocal cords due to a deformation, they took up trades after a while that they knew would allow them to be comfortable in silence. Though he may not be a padjal, the elementals seem to be the only ones who could speak with Ki'li freely. Seeing as they speak through emotion, it was easy as breathing for him. Perhaps they wished to offer him some way to share his thoughts.

Ki'sae Vashai; Ki'li's twin, and a talented fisherman like his father. One can often find him either on shore with a pole in his hands, or floating in the water, seemingly one of the most relaxing places to him. If you listen closely on moonlit nights, you can hear the pitter patter of feet towards the lake as Ki'sae goes to commune with Menphina in his own way. Both of the twins turned out to be very gentle souls, unlike their loud, brash older siblings. A welcome change for their parents, I'm sure.

#Ki'to #Finally #a post about his family #I talk about them far too much to let this sit in my drafts any longer #Figured since today's theme is family and I've got nothing put together yet I'd give y'all some writing at least #Plus you get to see the eldest siblings finally #MiqoMarch #ffxiv oc #ffxiv wol #ffxiv