#I wasn't ready to commit monetarily or timewise at that point (it was May 12 that I told my friend I was planning to do it soon)

[efrmellifer]

Anniversaire

Etien hadn’t been praying to Llymlaen much lately—how could she, in the land of Halone or across the rift in a land where the only divinities of any concern, it seemed, were Hydaelyn and Zodiark?—but today, she did.

Sinking to her knees at the window, she began to mouth her words as the dawning light fell into her eyes.

“O Navigator, in this thy month, I come to offer my thanks. You’ve led me so far in safety, your winds ever gentle at my back to spur me on, and your steering true. I thank thee, O Llymlaen. But also do I thank you today for the greatest gift given to me, on this his nameday.” Etien laughed a little, turning to look at him. “Right in the middle of your month, came a gift for me instead of you.” She finished her daily prayers for protection and the like, and then rose.

She got back into bed for a brief moment only, lying on her side just to steal another look at Aymeric.

He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. In the land of dreams, he had no reason to worry about the temple knights, about the Houses of Lords and Commons, about matters of the household. Not even about her.

Etien worried sometimes that while she dashed off to do anything asked of her in Eorzea or on the First, he was here fretting about her.

It wasn’t that she was ungrateful—the idea of him caring enough to even think of her in passing warmed her heart. But there were so many other things he had to worry about that she felt guilty if it was even possible that she had distracted him from those.

She didn’t like the guilt. It invaded a lot of her thoughts in moments like these. She tried to let him rest, because he deserved to rest and have a moment of relief and respite for himself, and she felt as though she were robbing Ishgard of… something. Was it selfish to want him to spend more time with her? She knew he needed to do his job—his jobs, plural—but they had been married perhaps a few complete moons and she had been gone for most of them. She ran home for Starlight, and Valentione’s, and a few times since then, ricocheting back and forth to lap up spare moments at his side to keep herself sane and focused when she went back to the First, but… she felt like a bad wife. Was it too much to want to be a better one when she could? If they never saw each other, she couldn’t be a good wife.

It didn’t matter now, she figured. She was just going to be the best thing she could be for him, and make sure he knew she loved him.

She laid a hand on Aymeric’s cheek, wincing at the feel of how warm it was, because it meant her hand was cold, and then kissed his forehead, followed by sliding from bed to get his breakfast together.

With Etien gone, Aymeric found it easier to wake, though less pleasant, and easier still to get out of bed. After all, she wasn’t there with her warmth and beckoning arms, telling him to stay in bed, stay with her, stay where nothing could break through the bliss of holding her and being held.

He wanted to stay under the covers anyway, considering the day and all, but with no excuse...

Still, the kettle was going off, so someone had to take care of it. But the sound cut off before he’d gotten even to the door.

At least Etien was still in the house, then—none of the staff would have put water on where he could hear it, at least not without asking. So he dressed, sighing into the cool air as he removed the warm pajamas and slid himself into the day’s clothing, knowing it would warm up eventually.

But it wasn’t yet. A small indignity.

He made his way to the kitchen still rubbing his eyes, and smiled when he found Etien.

“Don’t make yourself tea,” she told him, tucking herself into his side and curling her arms tight around him. “I handled it already.”

He patted her head, then smoothed her hair. “You’re not even dressed. Did you come right out of bed to do that?”

She shrugged. “I guess you could say that.”

“Well, then it must be getting cold. Where is it?” he asked, tone merely curious.

“It’s in the dining room with your breakfast.”

“You know, you do spoil me,” Aymeric said, still running his fingers through her hair.

“You’re worth spoiling.” She let him go and began to lead him from the kitchen, padding along before she turned. “Oh, before I forget to say it… Happy nameday, darling.”

He kissed Etien briefly, before passing her to go through the doorway. “Thank you. It has been made all the happier by having you here to celebrate with me.”

She stifled a squeal and hurried up to follow him into the dining room.

“Oh,” he murmured, seeing the plate of fruit and what he could only assume was an apple turnover. “It really is a special occasion, then.”

Behind him, Etien giggled. “Of course it is.”

Aymeric sat, nibbling at the pastry and sipping his tea, almost embarrassed.

Etien sat down, too, leaning on the table to get closer to him. “Something the matter?”

“It’s silly.”

“I love silly,” she cooed, leaning in a little more.

Aymeric laughed at the position she was in, then sighed. “This feels like more than I did for you.”

“Which is fine,” she assured him. “I never really got a whole lot of fanfare. I just wanted you to have a nice morning before you got going. I have a few plans for tonight, too.”

He shook his head gently. “We’re all so lucky to have you,” he said, scooping up what was left of the turnover and downing the end of his tea. “I have to leave now, but I look forward to whatever it is you have planned for tonight. See you then?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, standing up and giving him another kiss. “Try to have a good day.”

“For you, I can try,” he said before heading out.

When Aymeric arrived at the Congregation, it was to find Lucia waiting in his office.

“Is aught amiss?” He asked her, hardly putting anything down. “Are we needed on the front again? I had thought the knights we had holding the lines with the rest of the Alliance should have been sufficient.”

“Nothing like that,” Lucia assured him, almost laughing. “The thing is, we all happen to be aware what today is, and thought you might like to spend it… not at your desk?”

Aymeric blinked as he thought about where exactly they (and who “they” were) wanted him to be, until he said, almost too slowly, “So, you want me to go…?”

“Home,” Lucia said with a shrug, as though it were obvious. “Spend it with Etien.”

“What about my other responsibilities?”

“We’ve taken care of it, my lord,” she laid with a laugh. “Do you not want to go home?”

“I don’t know what I would do with an entire day,” he said softly.

“I’m sure she has ideas. Or sleep it all away. Why have a plan? Simply see where the day takes you.”

Slowly, Aymeric nodded. “All right. Then, until tomorrow.”

“Until tomorrow. Happy nameday, Aymeric.”

He laughed, just a little dryly in embarrassment, as he headed back out into the cool air.

Aymeric came home to find Etien poring over a recipe book.

“And what are you perusing a book of recipes for?” he asked, leaning in just close enough that her ears would hit the top of his head if she flicked them.

She jumped back almost a full fulm, gasping. “What are you doing here? Gods, you’re not sick, are you? Oh, darling, what a day to be sick.”

“I am not. Lucia sent me home to enjoy today with you, instead of trapped behind a desk.” He leaned in and kissed her briefly. “And I saw no reason to argue with that.”

“Oh, don’t lie,” Etien warbled. “You almost certainly hemmed and hawed about the front line and other things you’d have to handle.”

Aymeric sighed. “You really do know me too well.”

“I only pay attention. Because I love you. I want to know everything about you.”

He flushed, but only said, “well, I want to know what recipe you’re looking for, so I can help you find it.”

“A cake,” she mumbled, ears flattening, almost in embarrassment.

“A what, dearest?”

“A cake. I was going to bake you a cake.”

Gently, Aymeric took the book from Etien’s hands, and flipped through about half its pages. “Are you willing to make this?” he asked, pointing to a recipe on the right-hand side. “It’s… one of my favorites, but I know you’re not as fond of lemon…”

Etien took the book, chewing her lip as she browsed the list of ingredients. “Can I get all this in the Crozier?”

“You might have to go somewhere else for the cream, or the lemons. It can be hard to tell when they get those in stock.”

“I’m using Mun-tuy, so I can have some too,” Etien replied, heading down the hall and sliding her feet into boots. “Because anything for you,” she added, pulling him down to her level for a kiss before throwing on a coat and heading out the door.

When she came back, a little later than she had anticipated, she went right back to the kitchen, zesting the lemon, sifting flour, and getting down to the task of following the cake recipe.

She didn’t even notice that Aymeric wasn’t in any of the rooms she’d passed on her way through the house. To be fair, she hadn’t been looking, focused almost entirely on the series of steps she had waiting for her—measuring, mixing, pouring, baking.

It went off more or less without a hitch, Etien sliding the pan into the oven and setting a timer before she let herself wander the home in a search for the man of the hour.

Well, at least she found out why she couldn’t find Aymeric by listening for him.

There he lay on their bed, only half-stripped and fast asleep.

He really must have been tired, then. Etien certainly wasn’t going to stop him from indulging in a little laziness; she wouldn’t dream of waking him.

But…  

She had to wait for the cake to be ready before she could do anything with it, and the drizzle over the top didn’t require the cake itself to be warm, so she’d decided, just now, that she’d wait for the cake to finish baking, take it out, and then join Aymeric.

Plus, someone had to get him out of the rest of his clothes.

She perused the recipe book a little more, making note of the more stained and well-loved pages as she flipped through. She wondered, were these Aymeric’s favorites or his mother’s? Someone else’s?

When the timer went off, she snapped from her research and reverie, pulling the pan out and setting it down to cool.

Satisfied with the fruits of her labor so far, she took off her apron and headed for the bedroom.  

Etien was careful as she removed some of the remaining articles of Aymeric’s clothing, in an attempt to keep them nice and possibly make him a bit more comfortable. When she’d gotten everything—both what he’d shed before lying down and the pieces she’d taken off him—folded and placed to the side, she kicked off her slippers and settled onto the bed next to him.

Yes, it was the second time today that she was lying here, observing him in his sleep, but he was so wonderful to look at. Moreover, she had to wring everything she could out of this moment; how often were they allowed to be nothing but a young couple, madly in love and still new to married life? How many more chances would they get in the near future?

So she lay there, her other thoughts of tasks still to be completed and things she could have done instead of this smoothed over and drowned in the love welling up when she looked at him.

She would have reached out to touch him, but didn’t want to wake him, so instead she traced his features with her eyes.

Eventually, Etien closed her eyes, settling into a drowsiness of her own. It was understandable, when she had woken earlier than she intended this morning, and now she was so soothed by the sound of Aymeric breathing next to her.

Before long, she was asleep.

Aymeric woke to late afternoon sunshine and the scent of lemon cake. Etien really had meant it when she said anything for him.

Speaking of, he smelled lavender soap even more strongly than the lemon, and turned on his side to see Etien loosely curled beside him, seemingly having joined him in a nap.

He played with a loose curl of her hair, waiting to see if she would wake up, and then, he made the decision to do something he had long wanted to.

He thought back to that book of faerie tales she had been reading when she recovered from her injuries, such a long time ago, just after the end of the war, and how he’d seen the illustration of the prince waking the princess with true love’s kiss.

He’d wanted to do that with Etien ever since that day. He did a more subtle version most mornings he had to wake her, instead of the other way around, but now was his chance. Aymeric sat up, just enough that he could lean down rather than across, then shut his eyes, pressing his lips to Etien’s.

It took a second, and he backed up, giving Etien room to breathe, but her eyes did flutter open, a smile coming to her face as soon as she was fully conscious.

“And why am I being spoiled on a day about you?” she asked, grin growing slightly mischievous.

She slid from the bed and went back to the kitchen, starting to work on the drizzle for the cake, and Aymeric followed, staying out of her way but watching her as she went about her task.

“I’ve added a little something to this, I hope you don’t mind,” Etien murmured without looking up.

“I trust your judgment and your knowledge of my palate,” Aymeric replied, folding his hands. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You shouldn’t have to, but if you’re really itching to do something, you could get the cake out of the pan.”

He nodded, taking a knife and sliding it between the cake and the pan, coaxing it out and into his hand. “It smells divine, excellent work,” he praised Etien, taking a step to the side and kissing her cheek.

She smiled, turning with the drizzle and pouring it over the surface, the both of them watching it spread over the top and drip down the sides.

“Thank you. So I was thinking something somewhat simple for dinner. What would you like—salmon? Pipira? I think we have cod…”

“Well, you like salmon,” Aymeric replied, “so why not that?”

Etien laughed lightly. “I only buy fish I’d eat, darling. We can have whichever of those you want.”

“I truly do want salmon,” he told her.

“Then salmon it shall be.” She smiled, gathering more cookware and retrieving the fish from the icebox.

He watched her cook, still feeling like he ought to be helping, but not wanting to distract her (and knowing that she would tell him not to help her, especially on today of all days).

So he just observed.

Everything was plated, and Etien was carrying the plates to the dining room, in what felt like no time at all.

Aymeric grabbed goblets and a bottle of wine and followed her.

They settled into their seats and Aymeric started pouring his own drink first, only so he could ask Etien, “Will you be having some tonight?”

She shrugged, a good-natured smile coming to her lips. “Why not? It is a special occasion, after all.”

So he poured her a drink, too, hers markedly less full than his own.

“Here’s to you, darling,” she said once she had it, lifting it just a little, “that all good things be yours this year and forever.”

“With you at my side, I already have all good things.” Aymeric lifted his drink as well.

Etien giggled, then leaned in to tap her goblet against his, sipping as daintily as she could. “Anyroad, eat up before it gets cold,” she encouraged him. “I want you to enjoy it, after all. And cold fish is no good.”

“Oh it wouldn’t be so bad,” he mumbled around a mouthful.

They ate in a comfortable silence; there was little to talk about when they’d been together most of the day and asleep for a good portion of that time. Etien talked a little about how crowded the markets had been, both in Ishgard and in Gridania (where she’d gone for the Mun-tuy and the lemon), but there wasn’t much more to say about the matter.

So when their mouths were free, they descended into light chatter—things they’d heard around town, what little Etien might have heard from the Scions, things edging on gossip (even they indulged just a little).

After some time, Etien brought out the cake, cutting Aymeric a generous slice, and then one for herself.

Even with Etien’s recipe changes, it was delectable, and she was made quite aware of the fact.

When they’d finished, Aymeric pushed back from the table, extending a hand to Etien to lead her from her chair as well.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked, settling her hand in his and following his gentle shepherding to the sitting room.

“We never dance,” he replied. “Or at least, it feels like we never do.”

“Oh. Yes, I think so, too.” She settled against him, feeling his arm wrap around her back as their hands slid together. They had their moments where they could stand the ‘correct’ way, spines straight, angled limbs sharp, and form proper, but when it was just the two of them? It was nicer to sway like two tangled trees in a stiff wind.

They went back to chatting about everything and nothing like that, Aymeric talking about the evergreens cracking when the temperature had dipped especially low one night during the time Etien had been gone.

“I may have joked that half the pines surrounding Ishgard are simply me pining over you, but the trees truly were like my heart that night. Breaking, they were so frozen. I was bundled under possibly three blankets—the one you knitted for me closest to my body, of course—but I still felt frigid without you. Though I think I might be glad you were not here that night. I had the opportunity to get used to this weather when it first beset this land. You, however, have scarce had a chance to get used to it, having grown up in more temperate regions and being run off your feet to warmer climes on this world and the  next.”

Etien laughed softly. “It is cold here. But you keep me warm. Followers of Llymlaen have a part of the wedding vows like that, it goes something like ‘no cold shall reach you, for now you are each other’s warmth.’ I always thought it was pretty.”

“It is lovely. But I know the cold reaches you, Etien. At least your skin. You shiver sometimes, when we go on walks. If I can ever get you to hold still long enough, I should have you measured and start having more clothes made for you. Thicker dresses, more flannel petticoats.”

“But I never wear petticoats!”

“Maybe you could pick up the habit. For me, dearest? I feel terrible seeing you shiver. And I know, I doubt Ishgard is the idyll you imagined yourself settling down in, but—”

“Aymeric, don’t be silly. Anywhere with you is more than good enough for me.” She sighed a little. “I should wear petticoats. I would be warmer, and then Estinien couldn’t tease me.”

“He teases you?”

“Well, it was once or twice. Not exactly torturous, but—”

“Did he say something about the lack of garters, too?”

Now she huffed. “Yes.”

Aymeric chuckled. “I had no hand in that; I think it was a rumor that got out of hand… and turned out to be true.”

“Oh? That’s not one of the things you told him?”

“There are quite a few things I kept secret, you know.” He slid his hand from her back so he could take both her hands. “Some things that are just between us. And I like them that way.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles, then inspected her wedding ring. “Do you not normally wear this on a chain?”

Etien shrugged. “Usually, but I’ve been home for a while, so I figured it would be safe to have it on the regular way.”

Aymeric looked at it a little more, the rich blue of the sapphire against the well-kept silver and Etien’s pale skin. “It really does look good on you. It must just suit every Borel woman who wears it. When—if, I suppose—we have a daughter, do you think it will look good on her?”

“I’m sure it will look even better on her,” Etien assured him. “But tonight we don’t need to worry about the uncertain future.” She blinked up at him, a slow squint packed with affection. Knowing what she was about to ask for, Aymeric leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

After a moment, he guided the two of them to the loveseat, sitting so that Etien was perched in his lap. She took it as an invitation to more (and truly, he had been inviting her to do more, now that the height difference was mostly negated), lips finding their way off his and trailing down his neck, toward his collar.

Her hand was rising up his chest to join her lips at their destination, so she could pull aside his collar and lavish attention there, leaving behind light pink marks that would be gone by the morning, but for now showed her fervor and her claim on him.

He pulled her closer, grabbing her other hand and lacing his fingers with hers, until she squeezed and then let go, to cup his cheek between her hands and kiss him full on the mouth again.

“Have I told you today that I love you?” she asked, voice soft and slightly breathless.

“Not with your words,” he responded immediately, “but I’ve been made very much aware.”

“I love you, Aymeric,” she said anyway, kissing down the column of his throat.

He nearly blushed as her lips pressed just above the dip in his collarbone, where she could feel his heart pounding under her lips, under her attentions. “A-and I you, Etien.”

She sat back, her weight nearer his knees, and gave him a grin with glittering eyeteeth. “Thank the gods,” she breathed. She came close again, peppering kisses along his skin, anywhere she could reach and felt like, until she got to right below his ear. She paused.

Before she could render him speechless, Aymeric quipped, “I see the celebrating hasn’t ended.”

“Oh, not even close,” she purred, closing her lips around the cartilage of his ear and giggling at his quiet gasp.

Happy nameday, indeed.