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It was a rare, beautiful day in Ishgard — the sun shone so brightly in the sky that, properly bundled up, the Warrior of Light could almost believe the city had finally shaken free from the Calamity's wake and escaped the grasp of eternal winter. Only the nip of cold at her cheeks and nose, and the snug attire of those around her in the busy Crozier, plainly spoke otherwise.
She'd slipped out from her room in Fortemps Manor not long ago to find the house nearly empty — one of the house stewards had explained that the young lords of House Fortemps were preoccupied with various plans today, and had inquired if she had any of her own, which she'd found to be a bit of an oddly vague question.
"I've a mind to see the markets," she'd explained, cocking her head slightly. "It's so nice out, t'would be a shame to waste such a day by staying in."
The house steward had nodded courteously and answered with a polite "of course," and she'd shrugged off the odd exchange and made her way out here to the stalls of the Jeweled Crozier.
Upon arriving here, she immediately realized what exactly the steward's questions had pertained to. Ribbons of red wove between the colorful awnings of the merchants' stalls, clusters of balloons in the shape of hearts floated near the markets' entryway, and the local florist's shop was brimming with fresh roses that she had to guess were likely an import.
Ah. It was Valentione's Day.
She dug her hands into her fur-lined pockets, standing up straight and drawing in a breath.
She'd been asked if she had a date... and, well, of course she didn't. In the chaos of bringing the Dragonsong War to a close, she'd forgotten the holiday existed entirely. And... and, besides, it wasn't as if there was anyone she wanted to spend such a romantic holiday with... well, not anyone who could possibly think of her in that way, at least.
Still... she could make the most of the day on her own, couldn't she? It was Valentione's in Ishgard, after all — the very birthplace of the holiday itself, and surely there was something of it here for her to enjoy.
She mingled amongst the crowds, weaving between doting couples and kids chasing one another clutching heart-shaped cookies and fistfuls of candies, and eventually found herself drawn to the rich scent of sweet chocolate wafting from a nearby stall.
Oh... as she drew closer she realized this merchant was selling skewers of chocolate-covered rolanberries, and she found she could not resist. There was only one customer ahead of her in line, and as they happily left with their goods, she approached the counter, her hand on her purse.
"I'll have one of those, please," she said, pointing to the display of skewered berries.
"Certainly," the shopkeeper began, then abruptly trailed off as his eyes caught on her features. "Oh... aren't you the Savior of Ishgard!" he exclaimed, loud enough to startle her.
"The Savior of Ishgard?" she heard others begin murmuring around her amongst the milling crowds.
She nodded bashfully, not wanting to draw extra attention to herself.
"Well... consider this on the house," the shopkeeper continued, narrowing his eyes in an appreciative smile that made her squirm with unexpected discomfort. She took the treat he offered hesitantly, about to stammer a quick thanks and run off, but he continued. "Are you truly alone this Valentione's Day? One as admirable and beautiful as you? You know... my shift here is almost over, I would love to show you around..."
Shrinking with embarrassment, she made to blurt an apology and make her escape, but encroaching voices murmuring her name made her look around in a panic. A crowd had begun to form of Elezen and Hyur alike, approaching her with looks of hope and unwanted intensity in their eyes. Some of them clutched Valentione's roses or treats, and began to hold them up to her as if in offering.
"My lady!"
"Oh, it's Ishgard's savior!"
"Please accept this as a token of my gratitude—"
"Now listen here," the shopkeep began, addressing the approaching crowd with a look of annoyance. "I was speaking with her first, and—"
She wanted to scream. What was even happening to her? She had just wanted to take a nice sunny stroll through the markets and — and now this —
Her face felt hot, the familiar sting she felt in her eyes when she was about to start crying, and she hated it, her fists clenching at her sides but words not coming out to stop any of this, and —
"Move aside."
A voice, low and commanding, cut through the air, muting the din of the crowd to near-silence. She knew that voice. She spun towards the source of it to see the crowd that had formed around her parting for a familiar figure — an Elezen man, with raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes, and a noble bearing about him that at once commanded respect and put one at ease. Lord Aymeric de Borel made his way over to her, ignoring the murmurs of the parting crowd, and placed a gloved hand on her shoulder.
"There you are, my friend," he said, his eyes on hers composed and reassuring, but the slight frown and furrow of his brow just barely betraying true concern that she could only perceive up close like this. "Are these people troubling you?"
The Warrior took in a slow breath and grimaced appeasingly, not wishing to offend anyone. Aymeric's frown deepened at this, his eyes considering, and after a moment's pause he turned to address her gathered admirers.
"We Ishgardians all owe much and more to the Warrior of Light. Your admiration is understandable. Yet pray have some respect — she is a person, going about her daily life. Would you wish to be hassled like this, simply visiting the markets?"
A hushed murmur rose around those gathered around, before, thoroughly chastised, they began to disperse. The Warrior felt herself let out a sigh of relief, looking up at Aymeric with a feeling of immense gratitude. He gave her a hint of an encouraging smile — Twelve, but he was dazzling as ever — then turned to the shopkeeper and laid a coin on the countertop.
"This goes doubly so for you," the Lord Speaker said in a quiet rumble. The shopkeeper nodded quickly and mumbled an apology, seemingly cowed. Aymeric turned to the Warrior once more and offered her his arm. "Shall we?"
The Warrior nodded and took his arm in hers, and let him lead her away from the crowded Crozier and up the stairs towards the nearly empty plaza. He sat down upon a nearby bench, and she joined him, seating herself a friendly distance away.
She noticed he was not wearing his usual armor, but instead was dressed much as he had been on that wonderful evening she'd visited him in his manor for supper — a long nobleman's coat, an undershirt with a high collar. Now that they were not being watched, he looked at her with an expression of true concern that nearly made her shrink in on herself and blush.
That it had been Ser Aymeric who had come to her aid... She still buzzed with adrenaline from having been crowded so, and yet — his impassioned words in her defense, the personal concern in his eyes, walking alone with him on his arm, his warmth somehow having reached her through their thick layers of clothing... Well, it was hard to tell how much of this buzzing feeling in her chest was simply because it was him.
She knew for a fact that Aymeric had countless admirers, many more suitable for him than her, she was certain. She'd seen beautiful Elezen noblewomen, statuesque and elegant, discussing amongst one another their intentions to win his hand. And, well... she may have been chosen by Hydaelyn, but the Warrior of Light was certain that a man so capable, virtuous and Twelves-damned handsome wouldn't choose to look at her as more than an ally or perhaps a friend.
Nearly certain, anyway. She thought it likely her imagination, but the way he looked at her sometimes... how he had laughed genuinely at her silly stories over dinner and even seemed delighted when she'd suggested playfully that he join her on her next adventure... Since that evening, simply looking him in the eye was now enough to twist her thoughts into a jumble and fill her stomach with butterflies.
But he spoke to her, and the worry in his voice made her look him straight in the eye regardless.
"Out all alone on Valentione's Day, my friend? What were you thinking? Surely you know half the city is smitten with you, what with..." he trailed off, brushing a hand through the hairs at the back of his neck. "...well, what with all you have done for us."
The Warrior laughed nervously, feeling embarrassed. "Oh, please... I don't know what had gotten into those people, really," she said, trying to shake off the thought. "But thank you, Ser Aymeric. Back there, that was... certainly a first for me. I don't know what I would have done had you not shown up when you did."
Aymeric de Borel found himself, once again, marveling at the compelling yet concerning walking contradiction that the Warrior of Light herself was. She was a woman of incredible giving and kindness — never hesitating to risk her life for those in need, always worrying after those around her. She was too, at times, a woman of great courage and conviction — fearlessly striding towards great wyrms without an onze of hesitation, dashing ahead of her allies to shield them in battle. He'd seen her cast destructive spells so powerful, they could have reduced the entire Congregation building to rubble. And yet, he'd long noticed, when it came to matters pertaining to herself, the Warrior often seemed hesitant and uncertain. As if she always feared imposing.
It was also, frankly, hard to imagine that she had not previously found herself in such a predicament as the one he'd just helped her abscond from. She was... well, she was nearly as beautiful as she was kind, an observation which had not escaped his notice from their very first meeting. Even her smallest mannerisms were deeply charming; like the way she sat beside him now, her ankles crossed and her fingers interlaced in her lap, one of her thumbs worrying over the top of the other. The way her lower lip sucked in slightly as she looked bashfully away, as if there were more she had to say but had to force herself to physically withhold.
In truth, Aymeric had been rather taken with her for longer than he had been willing to admit. For longer than had been convenient, especially while the war had still continued. Yet now that Ishgard knew peace, though he was still terribly busy, these feelings for her within his breast...
But now, right after she'd been accosted by unwanted admirers? Now was not the time.
"Full glad am I that I did, then," he said sincerely. His eyes then flitted to the skewer of chocolate-dipped rolanberries still clutched in her hand. "...Were you perhaps purchasing a gift for someone special?" he asked.
A light pink flush bloomed across the Warrior's face, her eyes flicking to the treat in her hand then back to him, before looking down at her lap. "Goodness, no!" she exclaimed, giggling nervously. "No, no, I... In all honesty — and you'd better not laugh — I bought this for myself," she explained, looking a bit embarrassed. He smiled gently, and did not laugh, and this seemed to put her at ease. She let out a relieved-sounding sigh and continued. "It smelled so good, you see, and I do love rolanberries..."
"Do you?" he asked in a thoughtful tone. "I rather do as well... in truth, I have my house chef prepare a rolanberry cheesecake this time every year," he admitted.
"Really?" the Warrior asked, seeming curious. "Oh, that sounds wonderful."
"Mm, it is my weakness," he agreed, "but that looks delicious as well. You should enjoy it while it is fresh — it is an uncommonly clear day today, but 'tis still well below freezing out, after all."
"I... well, yes," she conceded, her eyes downcast. "Though... perhaps you should have it, actually," she said, holding the treat out towards him. "As thanks for helping me back there."
Aymeric's mouth fell softly open in an expression of surprise, and for a moment the Warrior was so captivated by the simple shape of his lips that she stopped breathing. His expression then softened, and he looked at her with sympathy.
"I couldn't," he protested gently. "'Tis yours, and I would not take it from you, especially not after what you went through to obtain it."
She found herself giggling despite herself. "Aymeric, 'tis not as if I just fought off an enemy horde for a simple confection," she teased, though the way he raised an eyebrow at her remark made her reconsider. "Well. Perhaps you did," she added, which coaxed a chuckle out of both of them.
"Hardly," he said with a bit of a playful grin. "And had there been an enemy horde, I doubt my assistance would have been needed, though I would ever be glad to render it."
A flash of memory of Aymeric fighting by her side in gleaming full armor, swinging his azure blade with practiced artistry, beads of sweat dripping down from his temple, flitted across the Warrior's mind... she flushed, nodding gently, doing her best to shake off the recollection.
Aymeric huffed, looking at her curiously. "Go on, then," he urged, and she looked at the treat in her hand.
"Right," she agreed, then delicately took the first rolanberry in her teeth and slid it off the skewer before eating it, careful to not do so in a way that was unseemly.
It was... nerve-wracking, eating something in front of him, especially without the aid of wine or a full table's distance between them, but the berries were ripe and delicious and the chocolate milky and flavorful, and as she finished it she let out a sigh of enjoyment.
"...It was good?" he asked quietly, and she felt her cheeks warm — oh, gods, had she done something embarrassing? But, no, his smile was just as pleasant as ever, and she found herself nodding.
"Are you sure you don't want one?" she asked, looking down at the skewer in her hand, which still held two berries.
Aymeric's lips parted in surprise again, and she felt a pang of panic — oh, she was such a fool, of course he would say no — this was clearly a Valentione's treat, and to be seen with her, in a public plaza, seated on a bench and sharing such a thing...
But before she could stammer an apology and retract her offer, he nodded, extending his hand to take it from her. "Well... perhaps I shall have just one, if you insist."
She nodded, her face feeling warm. She watched as he removed his glove, then reached out with nimble fingers and carefully plucked a rolanberry from the skewer in her hands, then popped it into his mouth whole. His eyes fluttered shut as he ate it, savoring — oh, gods, he was so beautiful, and his eyelashes so long, longer even than hers... that was hardly fair, was it?
"It's good, right?" she asked after a moment, and he nodded, licking a stray morsel of chocolate from his lower lip, then pulling his glove back on. Even those simple motions were terribly distracting.
"It is," he agreed. "Thank you — please, enjoy the rest."
They were quiet as she finished her delicious treat. A gentle breeze blew through the plaza, and she could hear the distant voices of children playing on the outskirts of the Crozier carried upwards on the wind. It was... well. There were few others around, it was true, but they were not entirely alone out here... surely someone had witnessed them sharing this dessert together. Yet Aymeric hadn't minded? He always seemed so aware of all that went on around him, of what others may think of his actions, as one in his position would have to be to have achieved such standing in the first place... and yet.
She didn't dare follow the train of thought further. She summoned what little composure remained within her to give him a cheerful smile, then bowed her head politely.
"Well, I won't trouble you," she said, dusting her hands on her overcoat as she rose to her feet. "I guess I should probably go back to the manor, just to be safe — I hope you have better luck than I with whatever business brought you to the Crozier."
Aymeric's eyes followed her up, and then he reached out towards her as if to stop her, rising as he did. "Wait," he said, dropping his hand back to his side as she stilled, listening to him. "What about your business in the Crozier? Certainly you had reason to be there yourself, yes?"
"Oh, I wouldn't say that, really." She scratched at the nape of her neck, a bit embarrassed. "I only went out with a mind to enjoy the nice weather... I had forgotten what day it was entirely, to be completely honest," she divulged, looking at him with a slight wince. He looked at her curiously, bringing his hand to his chin in thought.
"You'd... forgotten," he echoed, and she nodded, feeling flustered. "I—I had heard Valentione's Day customs were still practiced in the rest of Eorzea, is this not true after all?"
"No, that's correct. But, you know... with all that's been going on... it just kind of slipped my mind?"
"...Ah. Of course," Aymeric breathed, with a tone that sounded, to her, oddly a bit like relief? But no — that didn't make any sense, and his smile was just as pleasant as ever. "Well. If you would still like to get out and enjoy this fine weather some more — or what passes for it in Ishgard these days anyhow — I would be glad to accompany you."
The Warrior blinked, her mind not quite wrapping around her friend's suggestion. "...Accompany me?"
"To—to deter unwanted attention from you," he explained quickly, running a gloved hand through the side of his silken hair. "And mayhap from myself as well — 'tis a troublesome day indeed to be in either of our positions, as well-known as we both are, wouldn't you agree?"
Oh... well, she supposed that made sense. He probably had to fend off throngs of women simply to descend to the Crozier from his manor higher up in the Pillars, alone and looking like that. "I guess you do have a point," she admitted, clasping her hands together as she considered. "But aren't you rather busy?"
Aymeric laughed, his eyes twinkling. "Yes, isn't that always the way of it," he sighed, shaking his head. "But not today," he added cheerfully. "Even Parliament gets the day off today here in Ishgard. It wouldn't do for morale otherwise, you see. So..." he extended his hand towards her, bending towards her in a graceful motion akin to a bow, his clear blue eyes meeting hers. "Shall we?"
The Warrior of Light seemed a bit nervous at first as she took his arm once more and let Aymeric lead her down the steps back to the Jeweled Crozier; but once they were down amongst the milling crowds, with the scent of fresh-cut flowers and all sorts of delectable sweets hanging in the air, he felt her grip on his arm loosen and relax, her eyes wandering around the busy avenue with an excited curiosity.
He knew it was only a simple gesture of escort he performed, but having his dear friend on his arm, smiling beside him, made his own heart swell with excitement as well.
"So... what business did you need to take care of here?" The Warrior asked, cocking her head up towards him with a smile.
"Ah— well," he began, nearly fumbling. In truth he had no business in the Crozier at all; he'd merely... gone on an afternoon stroll, yes, that was it. Or at least perhaps the best explanation he could come up with that was close enough to the truth for his comfort. "Like you, I came here on a whim," he explained, keeping his expression calm and collected as she blinked in surprise. "'Tis such a lovely day, it would seem a shame to waste it indoors."
She smiled genuinely at this, her large, expressive eyes crinkling adorably at their edges. Oh, Halone but he was fond of her.
"I see... but then, wouldn't you face an even worse predicament than the one you pulled me out from, were you to wander the markets alone?"
He chuckled, feeling his cheeks warm just slightly. "Well, perhaps, were my luck to turn — though living amongst the nobility of Ishgard with my reputation, one learns rather quickly how to extract oneself from unwanted attention," he explained lightly, smiling pleasantly to reassure her when her expression showed a flicker of concern. "Nevertheless, 'tis quite fortunate neither of us are wandering alone this day any longer, wouldn't you say?"
"...Quite," she agreed, her eyes flicking shyly downwards.
Aymeric gave her a bright smile, then cocked his head slightly. "Shall I lead the way, or shall you? I admit, it would be quite refreshing to see how one from beyond our borders enjoys our markets."
A cool breeze blew through the Crozier, and yet the Warrior of Light barely felt it. She had lead Aymeric onwards at his encouragement, stopping at the first stall that caught her eye to peruse their goods, and he'd followed along, as if there were naught else he'd rather be occupying himself with on his rare day off.
Reluctantly, she let go of his arm as she looked through the displays, yet he stayed close by, remarking on the items with her.
"Oh wow... look at that blade, Aymeric," she said, pointing at a gaudy, entirely impractical broadsword at a stall across from them that was attracting onlookers. It was made of darksteel and encrusted with what looked like rubies cut into the shape of hearts.
"Oh... Oh dear."
"Imagine how you'd look trying to swing that thing—"
"I fear I would perish of embarrassment," he hissed under his breath, and they both shared a laugh.
"Surely those can't be real rubies?"
"Certainly not," he agreed. "But it is—it is certainly festive, I do suppose?"
"Quite," she agreed, giggling. Aymeric's ice-blue eyes twinkled with amusement, his fist politely covering his mouth as he regained his composure.
They wandered on, weaving through the crowds of happy couples, families with children, and people clearly shopping for gifts for someone special. She could not help but notice the many eyes on them both, especially when he kept particularly close escort — some of them with obvious envy.
Did he not notice too? How others were looking at them? How sometimes the crowds parted as if in awe of the Lord Speaker and his... companion?
If he did, he paid no mind to it. She couldn't fathom what was going through Aymeric's mind, much less her own, her heart beating fast as their eyes met, even as they passed friendly conversation.
Oh, she knew this was not really a Valentione's date... but, well, by the way everyone looked at them, and how he walked in step with her, her heart could have been fooled.
As they turned the corner and passed near a florist's shop, the elderly shopkeeper there waved politely to them in greeting. "A flower crown for the lovely lady?" he asked, his eyes first on her and then on Aymeric.
She felt her cheeks warm, and was about to open her mouth to decline — but Aymeric put a hand on her shoulder, tilting his head and smiling at her curiously. "Perhaps, if she wishes?"
Oh, Twelve, she was certain she was now fully scarlet. "I—I suppose," she admitted, her eyes having been caught on the displays of colorful roses and baby's breath, woven into wearable wreaths.
"Which one do you like?" he asked, and she let herself approach the display, her cheeks still warm. Oh, the blue one... It was the same shade as Aymeric so loved to wear, and her eyes were drawn to it immediately, her hand reaching towards it without thinking. She withdrew it, hesitant to select it — oh, what would he think if she did?
She heard an intake of breath from behind her and momentarily froze, but his voice spoke softly in his low, calming tone. "You like that one, don't you?"
"Ah—" she gasped, her eyes flitting downwards, then back up to the wreath. "Yes... it's lovely."
"A wonderful choice," the florist beamed, his eyes wrinkling with laugh lines. "It matches your sweetheart completely."
"Ah—" "Oh—"
They both let out sounds of surprise, which the florist obviously paid no mind to, retrieving the crown and approaching them. Aymeric cleared her throat behind him, dug into into his pockets and retrieved some coins, exchanging them with the man, who handed him the crown.
"May I?" he asked, turning to her, and her eyes flicked to his — he was staring down at her with a look that seemed... hesitant, nearly nervous, but with something about the way he looked at her that made her breath stop. It was as if it were just the two of them alone, not a soul in sight, the busy market fading to nothing.
She nodded, something stirring within her— and gently, he placed the crown of roses atop her head, tucking it carefully into place.
"You look... beautiful," he murmured, and her heart leapt. "It... it suits you."
"...Thank you," she breathed, her voice coming out small. She thought... she felt... but no, he couldn't, right?
The shopkeeper beamed at them and waved goodbye as they walked away, but the Warrior was in such a daze she hardly registered it.
Her mind spinning, her heart awash with longing, her feet led them both to an empty corner away from the market stalls without even realizing it.
A tall fence overlooked the Abyss surrounding Ishgard, a sky that felt endlessly blue stretching out before them. Her hands alighted upon the railing, and in the corner of her vision she saw Aymeric's do the same beside her.
Did she dare hope? It was... she'd believed for so long that they were mere girlish folly, these feelings she had for him... a simple crush on a kind and beautiful man that was well out of her league. Perhaps a secret affection she held for a friend, but she had been certain it could be nothing more.
But... the way he had looked at her... the gentle brush of his long, gloved fingers against her hair... and that someone had called them sweethearts and he hadn't leapt to deny it...
Her fingers tightened around the railing's bar, and, doing her best to channel the courage she only ever seemed to find when others needed her, she forced herself to look Aymeric in the eye.
Seven hells but he was handsome. How was she supposed to ask him anything? She swallowed, her conviction losing its footing.
He spoke her name, his eyes aching as if with deep concern. "If—If I have done aught that troubles you, my friend—"
She shook her head vigorously, finding herself again, and she watched him straighten, relaxing but still fully alert.
"Aymeric," she began, summoning every bit of strength she had, "is... is this a date?"
His mouth fell open, his eyes searching her expression, before glancing away, almost as if bashful. "No," he answered simply, and her heart fell. "But would it trouble you if I wished that it were?"
"No," she breathed, her eyes wide, then spoke her next words timidly. "...Do you?"
Before she could so much as blink, Aymeric's hands had come to cover hers, and she lifted them off the railing as they came to face one another.
She'd never seen such passion in the man's eyes, not like this — a fire and an ache, an affection and a determination to see this through.
"I do," he confessed, speaking her name once more, squeezing her hands in his. "In truth, I—I came to Fortemps Manor to see if I might speak with you, to—to ask if you might be willing to spend Valentione's Day by my side. But I was told you had already left for the markets, and when I found you there, I couldn't very well bombard you with even more impassioned confessions, were they to prove unwanted," he added, wincing slightly.
Oh, she thought, her whole being swelling with anticipation. This... he... really...?
"Aymeric," the Warrior said, her voice almost a tiny squeak. "How on earth could your attentions be unwanted," she protested, as if such a thing was utterly unthinkable.
Aymeric found himself dumbfounded, momentarily silenced. His heart racing, spurred onwards by her words, he drew in a breath to calm himself and continued. "Then... my dear friend... I must confess that I have long since fallen in love with you, and, if you would have me..." He let go of one of her hands and, with his gloved hand, cupped her cheek in his palm. She blinked up at him, her eyes wide as they searched his, a crimson blush spreading across her cheeks. Fury but she was all his heart desired, and his pulse pounded in his ears touching her like this, seeing her look at him like this. "I would court you," he murmured, finally voicing his desires, "and do all in my power to show you the incredible, beautiful woman whom I see when I look at you."
Something shimmered in her eyes, and for a moment he thought she might burst into tears — but she smiled widely, and though dew pooled at the corners of her eyes it was clearly from some great, wonderful emotion that stunned him to see upon her face.
"If—If you are sure it is me you want," she said, looking at him with such joyous longing—
He curled his arm around the small of her back, pulling them close, and bent down, her face now so close to his. "I am certain," he whispered, his breath curling into frozen mist around her lovely features.
"Oh," she sighed as if in wonder, "Aymeric, I've thought of nothing but you since the day we first met—"
His heart straining upwards with breathless hope, he found he could do naught but press his lips to hers in a gentle, perfect kiss.
The Warrior of Light could hardly believe the utter bliss she felt, walking the Crozier with Aymeric once more, hand-in-hand. His fingers intertwined with hers, his steps fell into rhythm with her own, and every time she glanced up at him she could see him gazing at her with such affection she thought her heart might burst. It very well had when he'd kissed her there on that secluded landing overlooking the mountains. When she'd confessed afterwards, her heart wide open, that she loved him too.
And yet this was real — she was here with him, doing the things that couples do, on an actual date with the Lord Speaker Aymeric de Borel, who had eyes for none of the beautiful women who fawned over him, only simply for her. On a whim she dragged him back to the florist, where she insisted on him picking out a flower for her to tuck behind his ear — he chose one the color of her eyes, and she nearly dragged him into a nearby alleyway for another quick kiss.
"You know, my dearest... if you tire of the markets, I do have that rolanberry cheesecake back at the manor, and I am more than willing to share," he said, pressing a kiss to to the back of her glove, his clear blue eyes both soft and confident upon hers. "Truth be told I have a whole dinner arranged before dessert, were you to agree to accompany me... I have long wanted to make up for how our last meal together ended. It... well, I never got the chance to tell you how I felt that night."
"I would love that," she answered, her heart warm and alive with the giddiness of new love. An answering smile swept across Aymeric's face, so genuine and so beautiful that she thought she never wanted to look at anything else. He took her hand in his and led her into the light of the Pillars, and she could feel his warmth as he walked beside her.