Chapter Text
Aymeric de Borel was no stranger to feeling out of place. It had been as such since his childhood, when he first discovered that his status as an adopted bastard son caused others to look down on him. The reality of his situation had been difficult on his young mind, but he had come through it with a deep-seated sense of justice and resolve. The society to which he was born may not have upheld the virtues that it professed, but he could show his countrymen through his deeds that his birth made no difference to his character. He was just the same as the rest of them.
Doubt crept in, however, when he began his squire's training in his teenage years. Surrounded by other boys and girls his age, he began to feel a distinct sense of displacement, as if the rest of them were all privy to some joke he had never been told. They attended the weekly services together, and while his companions professed the holy virtues of purity in public, Aymeric had quickly learned that those pious words meant little to them in private. Every other conversation seemed to be about the opposite sex, and occasionally the same sex: how much of their bodies they had seen, who was the most attractive in their company, who had been caught kissing one another in the toilets at the Congregation… on and on with seemingly no end to their fascination.
At first Aymeric had felt lost, unable to comprehend what had so thoroughly captivated his peers’ minds. Over time embarrassment set in, and he endured many a tease calling him a prude with a stick up his arse as he ducked from conversations when the topic arose. When his adopted mother attempted to reassure him that he was only a late bloomer and would understand how the others felt someday, all he could feel in response was fatigue. He had worked so hard to rise above the difference of his birth, earning commendations aplenty in his training from even the staunchest traditionalists among the knights, yet there seemed to be other differences inherent to his being. He grasped the praise he received for his maturity by his parents and elder knights as a lifeline. Surely this was all merely childhood fancy, and once they reached adulthood they would move on to other, more important things.
Alas, adulthood arrived all too soon, and he was quick to discover that the company of Temple Knights was no different. Oh, he had become friendly enough with the others in his unit, and spent many an evening sharing an ale at the Forgotten Knight with them. But even as he put on an easygoing facade, the acute awareness of their differences prickled under his skin. Aymeric had long since learned not to voice his own thoughts when the conversation turned in a certain direction, to smile and laugh along with the others as they spoke of their desires, their conquests and failures, and to draw as little attention to himself as possible. Being honest in these matters brought only disbelief at best, mockery and scorn at worst. He had his sights aimed high, and someday, he would be in a position where whatever it was that separated him from his fellows no longer mattered. He would overcome this, just as he would his birth status.
Aymeric nearly thought he had done it at last after the incident with the dragon ambush. Ser Estinien… he had known of his presence in their unit, of course, but the man's habits of avoiding social gatherings and training apart from the rest of them had prevented him from giving him his full consideration. The evening they spent together at the Forgotten Knight changed everything. The way his air of discomfort had melted away with the alcohol, the soft smiles that crossed his lips when Aymeric had told him humorous stories about their superiors, the way his silver hair had fallen around his shoulders when he tugged his ponytail loose… Aymeric had hardly slept that night, his mind refusing to settle as the memories replayed themselves. Something had sparked within him, and relief and terror flowed through him in equal measure, sending him into disarray. Relief that perhaps this was finally the piece he had been missing all the years of his adolescence, and terror at the realization that although now he knew what ardor felt like, he had absolutely no idea what to do with it.
Yet it was not long until he became aware that this experience, too, differed from everyone else's. A rare free evening had led him to the tavern with a pair of his companions, and though he hoped to invite Estinien to join them, the man had been nowhere to be found. Though Aymeric did his best to hide his disappointment behind a smile, it seemed he had not been as careful with his emotions as he thought, and it wasn't long before their conversation turned toward him.
"So, Borel," said Gieffrinnet, a prideful young man who Aymeric often spent time with in archery training. He leaned forward across the table, a wide grin on his lips. "You and Estinien, eh? How's that been going for you?"
"What?" Aymeric said, startled. He pressed his lips together, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart and keeping his tone cool though his grip tightened around his tankard handle. "I am sure I know not what you are referring to. Estinien and I are friends and comrades. He does not leap away when he sees my approach, so I suppose it is ‘going’ as well as can be expected."
"Aymeric, we all have eyes," said Lantilde, rolling her own with an exaggerated sigh as she looked up from the engrossing task of picking out the vegetables from her bowl of stew. She and Aymeric were often sent on city patrols together, and her quick wit brightened even the dullest of assignments. "Ever since you transferred to the eastern unit after that disaster, you've not gone a day without gazing after him like a highborn girl hoping for a dance at a ball."
"So how is he?" Gieffrinnet asked. "Thought no one would ever catch your eye, so he must be damn good, right? Should have known, since he's so quiet. Those kinds always have a wild side." He waggled his eyebrows, leaning forward against the table with an expectant gleam in his eye. “We need details, Borel.”
Lantilde smirked around a mouthful of carrots. "Did it happen after you killed that dragon? It must have, 'cause I never saw you look at him before. Blood running hot from battle, and you just couldn't help yourselves… How very romantic ."
Aymeric's face burned, and he took another drink of ale, hoping that he could blame his flush on the alcohol. "Naught happened on that day save for having a drink together. We are friends and nothing more, I swear it."
Gieffrinet very obviously did not believe his words, but Lantilde’s expression softened just a touch. "Alright then, but you clearly want to be more," she argued. "So what are you waiting for? I've not heard of him going to anyone else's bed, so he's got to be quite pent up. Would probably jump at the chance if you just asked."
Aymeric did his best to smile, though his nerves were all alight at the way the topic had turned. "I am sure I have no idea what you believe I should be asking for," he lied. He did, in fact, have an inkling… but the thought of it set a stone of discomfort in his stomach. The only desire in his heart at the moment was to spend more time with Estinien, to break through the outer shell with which he closed out near everyone else and know the true nature of the man underneath. To have his attention, if only for a blissful moment or two every now and then, turned away from the quest for vengeance that seemed to consume him. A kiss, perhaps, would certainly not be unwelcome, but the thought of anything more had never crossed his mind. Were these things not meant to be built up over time? Or was he once again wrong about how others felt, ignorant that he was the strange one among them? He had an inkling of the answer, and it made his heart flutter with fear. The thought that the natural progression of a romance would lead him to discover the feelings he had been missing had been his last hopeful daydream that kept him from despairing at his own nature, but now he felt utterly foolish for it.
His two companions shared a glance. Aymeric's nails dug into his palm, his every muscle stiff with the tension in the air, until Gieffrinnet broke the silence. "Come now, Aymeric, we are not in front of the Archbishop. There's no need to pretend like you don't want to get your cock sucked. Or suck his cock, if that is your preference." He reached over, giving Aymeric a friendly clap on the shoulder. "You needn't feel as though you must act a blushing virgin among friends."
Aymeric's stomach sank. He had hoped it would not come to this, but now that the words had been spoken, he found himself unable to respond with a lie. "I… am not putting on an act. The truth is I am rather inexperienced. That is to say… I have none. No experience at all, in fact." Aymeric gritted his teeth, bracing himself for the mockery that was sure to come and praying to the Fury that his friends would not press him for details on why, exactly, he was so lacking.
Gieffrinnet appeared rather taken aback. "I knew you were married to the job, but… truly? None at all?" Aymeric’s jaw clenched, and he turned away from his friend’s bewildered frown.
"Hey, you shouldn't make fun of someone for that," said Lantilde. "We've all got to start somewhere, right?" Aymeric let out his breath in relief at her words, thankful for the support, even as he knew she did not truly understand.
"Sure, sure," said Gieffrinnet, placating. "I had no intent to insult him. Well, I doubt Estinien is experienced either, if that is what holds you back. And there's something to be said about your first time. It only happens once, after all. Wish I could do mine over, honestly." He grimaced before giving Aymeric another pat on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, though, Borel. Considerate and all. There’ll be nothing to worry about, I’m sure of it.”
Lantilde, who had been gazing to the side while Gieffrinnet spoke, abruptly turned towards Aymeric with a wide grin. "Look what the void spat out," she said, pointing towards the door. "Seems like you could have your chance tonight, if you wanted."
Aymeric felt his heartbeat nearly double in pace as he turned in the direction of her gesture, his eyes immediately locking on to the head of long white hair that almost glowed in the dimness of the tavern. Even though he had been unable to pass on his invitation for the night, had Estinien come to seek him out regardless? The thought of it made Aymeric grow lightheaded. He had scarcely allowed himself to speculate that Estinien might more than tolerate his presence, and his own thoughts were still in disarray on the matter, but his surprise appearance apparently done without a single word of pleading or cajoling caused a veritable flood of joy to overflow Aymeric’s heart.
Estinien looked profoundly uncertain, as if he were ready to bolt right then and there, but as his gaze met Aymeric's the furrow of his brow softened just a touch, sending a veritable flock of butterflies fluttering within Aymeric's chest. He turned back towards his friends and opened his mouth to speak, torn between the rudeness of leaving them alone and the sudden overpowering desire to be at Estinien's side.
"Go ahead, you lovestruck sap," Lantilde laughed before he could find the right words to ask. "We'll get along just fine."
Gieffrinnet had a wicked smirk on his lips. "But we want a full report in the morning, you understand?"
Aymeric stood up from his chair. "I appreciate the support," he said with a wry twist of his lips. As embarrassing and inaccurate as his friends’ assessment of his feelings had been, it was a comfort to know that they cared for him regardless. "Now if you'll excuse me."
He wound his way around the tables, his heart growing lighter with every fulm closer he got to Estinien's waiting figure. There would be nothing to report, despite what his friends seemed to believe, but he found that could no longer recall any of the troubles that plagued him when the corners of Estinien's mouth turned upwards in the slightest of smiles. However strange the others might find him for his lack of action, he was content in this moment to simply exist at Estinien's side. No, he would spend this evening basking in the cool blue-gray of his friend’s gaze, would act in the same warm manner as he always had, and hope for nothing more than the reward of another gentle smile for his efforts. There was no need to reveal his personal failings and risk ruin just yet.