rulie
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"How are you doing?" Artoirel asks, nearly under his breath. Emmanellain keeps his eyes on the epitaph.
He could lie. He could puff his chest out and proclaim that he's never been better, that there's no need to worry. He could be the same Emmanellain he has always been, the one Artoirel has learned to expect.
Or he could be honest, for the first time in so long. Things have changed, now. His brother is dead, the war is over, and above his head still looms the failure of Falcon's Nest. His promotion to the commander of Camp Dragonhead is but a few days away. His other brother is now the Count of their house, and Edmont—who, for some reason, Emmanellain could never imagine stepping down—is now naught more than their father.
Ishgard is at peace, and Haurchefant is not here to see it.
emmanellain and artoirel talk.
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Artoirel is not a betting man, but he'd willingly put gil down on the glances the Lord Speaker keeps sending his way being decidedly un-Halonic.
He is also not an innocent man, not by any means. Any innocence he may have had going into his thirtieth summer had been thoroughly fucked out by Aymeric himself. Neither is he a prude, both for the same reason and because, well, to be a prude is nigh impossible when you join the Temple Knights. Which is to say, the glances are not unwelcome nor unnoticed. They never are. Yet Aymeric is being terribly obvious about it, in a way that is uncharacteristic for him.
Mentally, Artoirel counts the days since Estinien left Ishgard for Radz-at-Han. The explanation to Aymeric's behavior comes easily.
It has been five sennights since Aymeric last had someone warm his bed.
artoirel and aymeric find some time alone.
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Were Estinien to ask, he would gladly let him burn his flesh, to leave a permanent mark that signals who he belongs to. Yet he is far too gentle for that, and Aymeric is content with the lovebites he's always left with after a night together, fleeting though they are.
There's a moment of silence, of Estinien gazing down at him with so much love it hurts. He clears his throat.
"Can…" Estinien starts, quiet, perhaps hesitant, his thumb mindlessly stroking over his bare hip, "Can I call you a girl?"
aymeric dresses up.
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"Aymeric—"
"And then you joined the Scions! Gods, Estinien, are you mad? I do not doubt your prowess, but even you would think twice before fighting the threats they face, and yet—and yet!—I am told of your next mission, from someone other than you, after you spent years avoiding me. Years, Estinien. How do you think that makes me feel?"
Quiet, quiet. Then Estinien scoffs, taking his chestpiece off. "Are you done?" he asks, gruff. "I didn't come here to be scolded like a child. 'Tis unbecoming of you."
estinien comes home.
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in my dreams, everything's more quiet than here by softereyes (rulie)
Fandoms: Final Fantasy XIV
08 Nov 2025
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"This isn't real," Aymeric says, quiet.
"Maybe not. Maybe it is. Why does that matter?"
"…I suppose it doesn't."
Estinien's frame shakes with quiet laughter, his fingers treading over the knee-high grass and wildflowers. He looks gorgeous in the sunshine—it's been so, so many years since Aymeric has seen him under anything other than the cold and ice of Ishgard. Even the sun of the old Coerthas was never half as bright and warm. It reflects beautifully off his skin, off the tan he'd gained since leaving the city. It makes Aymeric's heart hurt.
aymeric often dreams of estinien in his absence.
Recent series
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Summary
a linked universe post-canon reunion series following different duos within the chain, set 7 years after canon.
title from orion's waltz by milkdrive
- Words:
- 14,465
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- 5
- Bookmarks:
- 27
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- Words:
- 1,657
- Works:
- 1
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Summary
thancred is self-loathing, angry, indecisive, and just wants urianger to see him. urianger already does, and loves him however he may come.
(thancred doesn't know that part. it causes a lot of problems.)
- Words:
- 27,957
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- 4
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- 8