#you see. the thing about it is haurche is--no i will put it in the fic u.u

[coldshrugs]

wip wednesday

wow i'm on time!! ty @lilas and @lavampira beloveds!

i'll tag (with no pressure): @scionshtola @galadae @hylfystt @birues @impossible-rat-babies and also everyone meg and dani tagged. you're tagged again 💗

this is all being edited and will likely change but :>

The silence is not a comfort to her now. It stretches on like the gaping canyon below the city, churning with the force of something unfathomable. The street lanterns flicker to life on either side of her. "Io." He pries her away from the stone railing, and the unspoken question remains. But he smiles again, and she joins him as he playfully jostles her shoulder. Finally, now that the crowd has thinned, she throws her arms around him and squeezes until he shakes with low, rumbling laughter. He squeezes back. She steadies herself with a deep breath and releases him. They walk on. "I'm sorry. If you must know, I am a bit jealous of you. Your continued adventures. I haven't adjusted to standing still." "Easily remedied, no?" Estinien shrugs casually. "We will make our own adventure. Unless you've been chained at the ankle, what keeps you from going where you please, at least for a day? If you want for decent company, well, I cannot claim decency. But we are friends, are we not?" "Of course we are." Io bumps her shoulder against his. "Alas, the chain is metaphorical, and therefore heavier than you've imagined, and it has everything to do with the title you'd rather ignore." He crosses his arms, steps slowing as they near Fortemps Manor. "You don't even mean to try?" "I did not say that! I only meant–" "Io, dearest! And is that Ser Estinien?" Haurchefant's voice cuts through her retort. She did not hear the door open, but she certainly hears it shut as he takes the opportunity to join them. "The steward said you were out on errands, but I never expected you to procure such a treasure as the nation's final Azure Dragoon. How are you, my friend?" Haurchefant extends his hand to Estinien, who clasps his arm with practiced neutrality. The tight line of his lips tells another story–his annoyance at this interruption. For a blessing, this goes ignored by Haurchefant, but there is comfort in knowing she is not the only one hanging to her charades by a thread. "Fine," Estinien says. His gaze follows the arm he's just released settling around Io's waist. "And pray, if we must prattle on about rank, 'Knight Commander' is the less abrasive option." Haurchefant's expression brightens beyond possibility. "You are returning for good then?" "For now."

[scionshtola]

do you have any favorite parts from The AU you want to share? 👀

seeing this ask made me go write more of The AU so i had more things to choose from which is why it has taken so long adsjf but ty for asking beloved 🥰 i do have a few favorite parts to share! I'm putting it under a cut bc i am long winded. and chose 4 parts. also just a warning the last one is nsfw🧍but the first 3 are not!

most of what I have written so far is shtola suffering at Cori and Haurche's engagement party, so here is a little bit of that

When she had escaped the happy couple, Y’shtola strode directly to the table of artfully stacked glasses of champagne. She plucked one by the stem and was deciding whether it would be improper to down the whole thing at once, if no one saw her, when someone beside her said, “They certainly make a picturesque pair, do they not?” How often had she heard that same sentiment throughout the night? If she never heard those words again, ‘twould be too soon. Yet she could not doubt the words either. Though the details were difficult to decipher by aether alone, she could see the flattering cut of Corisande’s dress, the long sleeves trimmed in lace and the floor length skirt that swirled about their legs as they danced. Silver blue, Tataru had informed her with an annoyingly dreamy sigh, to match Haurchefant’s eyes. Y’shtola could picture it all in her mind with an irritating clarity—the icy blue of their dress against their cool brown skin, wine-red hair braided into a crown ribboned with pink, mismatched green eyes alight as they greeted their guests. The man himself cut a dashing figure at their side as they moved through the party together, the two of them effortlessly kind and endearing, and endlessly besotted. Picturesque hardly began to describe it.  “They certainly do,” Y’shtola said, and tipped her glass, swallowing half of the contents at once.

personally I am v amused by the detail Shtola goes into about Cori and then is just like 'Haurche is there too.'

also am fond of this convo with Artoirel where he and Shtola are sort of talking past each other/about different things but she doesn't know what it is he means

Artoirel failed to stifle his scoff. “His favored child caught the heart and the hand of the Champion of Eorzea. Any parent would be pleased with the status that affords them by association, would they not?” “I don’t see any reason their title should matter, aside from as a testament to their character.” Y’shtola did not care for the direction this conversation was taking, nor for the tone he was taking regarding Corisande.  “Haurchefant certainly thinks much of it, as does my father,” Artoirel answers, an edge underlying his words. Y’shtola narrowed her eyes, but before she could press the matter, he continued, in the same dry tone as earlier. “The arrangement is to Corisande’s benefit as well, at least when it comes to their ventures in Ishgard. It is no small thing to marry a Count’s son.” “Corisande and Haurchefant are in love,” Y’shtola said neutrally, though the words hurt her to speak. She could not discern the reason for his obvious disdain of the engagement, but Corisande was the most genuine person she knew, and she would not let him suggest there were any ulterior motives where she knew there to be none. “I can assure you she does not care for any benefits a title may bring.

and a little bit of friendly flirting conversation

Even the words she spoke kindled something warm in Y’shtola’s chest. They were looking for her.  “Did you need something?” “Only the pleasure of your company,” Corisande answered sincerely, and offered Y’shtola her arm. Y’shtola did not hesitate to take it, and Corisande began to guide them through the crowd. “I have hardly seen you all night, though I’d hoped to find you earlier. Pray tell me you don’t feel I’ve made you fend for yourself against the Ishgardian nobility.” Y’shtola leaned against Corisande as they walked—as much as she could, anyway, with the difference in their height. “I do not feel abandoned. Not by you, at any rate. Tataru and Alphinaud, on the other hand, left me behind without a second thought, and shall be hearing from me later.” “Do not tell me you have been completely alone all night,” Corisande said with a laugh. “I fear that shall only make me more keen to make it up to you.” “Worry not, there has been no shortage of people to converse with,” Y’shtola answered, pleased by the teasing tone they had taken, and ignoring the hopeful skip of her heartbeat. What was there to hope for? “Though I shall happily play the part of the woefully abandoned, if only to know how you intended to make it up to me.”

okay LAST ONE!!! and this one is uh. smut. so. stop here if u do not want to read that ladsjf from the first time they sleep together

She breaks away from their mouth and kisses their neck, spurred on by the soft noises each one draws forth. Corisande is pliant beneath her lips and her hands, going easily when she guides them onto their back with a gentle touch. It’s only when she has pressed kisses halfway down their chest that she truly appreciates the deep-V neckline of their nightgown, and something clicks in the back of her mind. Her hand traces the fine lace of their neckline, following it down the valley between their breasts until she meets the small bow tied beneath them. ‘Twas not unusual for Corisande to dress in lace trimmed clothing, nor was it an exaggeration to say half their wardrobe was composed of short skirts and dresses. But the combination of clothing choice and the hour at which she had shown up to Y’shtola’s door made a compelling case for her suspicions. Y’shtola plucks at their gown. “Did you wear this for my sake?” “Yes,�� they admit, slightly breathless. “You are aware that the finer visual details are rather lost on me, yes?”  she traces the lace detailing over their chest again, pleased by the shake in their voice when they answer. “I admit when I came here tonight I was rather hoping for a t—“ their breath hitches when Y’shtola cups their breast, savoring the cool silk of their gown under her hand. “A tactile experience.” Y’shtola laughs, though she cannot help but be pleased by the confirmation of what she already knows. Corisande wants her, they made an effort for her.  She slips her hand back under their gown, past the waist of their underwear. “‘Tis fortunate, then, that I am happy to oblige.”

[elfyourmother]

a lot of downer ship talk, very long, and  i am begging you not to reblog this bc i am just talking about my own feelings on my own blog and don’t want to put bees in anybody’s bonnets

hmm but like. talking about Gisele’s conception of love and her inherent polyamorous orientation and worldview here made me think again about Thancred and why I rarely discuss or write Gisele/Thancred fic despite shipping it like burning and having a lot of feelings about it

their relationship arc was very different than with most other wols I’ve seen shipped with him, as a start. there were some heavy (albeit unintentional) parallels with Imani/Kaidan’s relationship arc in Mass Effect, what with one believing the other was dead for ages until they suddenly popped up again, and with Heavensward being their “Horizon moment”, though it wasn’t hostile so much as...many things left unspoken and hurt on Gisele’s part when Thancred inexplicably took this “I want my beloved to be happy so I will let her go” tack totally unasked and undiscussed solely bc of his intense feelings of guilt and his insecurities. and they didn’t reconcile until he damn near died in Amh Araeng all that time later on the First).

of course different isn’t bad, and I have to keep reminding myself that. lord knows fandom would be boring af if everyone wrote ships in the same way and I’m sure there’s an audience out there for this sort of thing, even if niche. but like...I really feel like myself and my wol stick out like a sore thumb in a sea of small white/light wols who are 100% monogamous with him (but for an occasional fridged Haurche before they got together). there is nothing wrong with writing that sort of thing but as a poly femme it’s just really demoralizing sometimes to consider that so many people seem to view Thancred’s promiscuity as a flaw that needs to be overcome somehow, that it was a sign of his emotional immaturity and that with proper character development and growth (and True Love from the right person) he will necessarily “settle down” into being monogamous. I see this idea expressed so frequently in fic and art and it hurts so much because it reminds me of nothing so much as the way Zev and Isabela got treated in da fandom (Zev’s actual romance in the game codified it as canon even), and it dredges up a lot of very old, very bad memories.i mean that one infamous scene at the Stones gets pointed to a lot but it’s like...the multiple gfs weren’t the problem, it was his lack of honesty about it. and it’s always contrasted with him in the latter stages of ShB, especially when it comes to the uri/than shippers. Weary Dadcred is wholly incompatible with Suave Thotcred to these people.

it’s like people think poly and/or promiscuous characters are not allowed to have any kind of depth or complexity, their romantic/sexual proclivities are treated as either something for laughs or a defect they need to work on. and I wholly, emphatically reject that not just wrt him but with Gisele also, her entire characterization and story absolutely puts the lie to that sort of thing. they do not and cannot relate to each other in that way. their conflicts were entirely down to his insecurities and a lack of communication on both their parts, not because they didn’t love each other enough because polyamory. shit, the whole reason Thancred couldn’t hate Haurchefant even though he rather irrationally wanted to at first was because of the compersion he felt seeing Gisele with him. and Gisele had been telling him to shit or get off the pot wrt Y’shtola for actual years. 

but outside of like 1 or 2 people, I really don’t know anyone else who views him that way and so I feel like I need to make myself scarce in those corners of fandom. especially since I also highkey ship him and Minfilia W. like listen I never played 1.0 and went into ARR knowing fuck all about anything and thus them being all “ugh no we don’t feel that way about each other, why would you think that???” in that one “no hetero” scene made me feel like absolute garbage considering I had OT3′d them and Gisele literally right up to that point. It felt like the game itself was shaming me, and then I saw that it was very heavily frowned upon in fandom for Important Lore Reasons and I was quite new and intensely self-conscious about having Wrong Opinions so I just made myself stop and turned it into a V with Gisele as the shared point. And ftr ShB only made the angst worse because it reminded me of it and it was all I could read it as (romantic angst) and I started hurting about it all over again, in large part because I felt like I couldn’t discuss it with anybody at all for fear of being viewed as a freak. The only thing I permitted myself to do was mention OG Minfilia having unrequited feelings for him a la Phedre and Anafiel in the Kushiel books, with her never telling him because he would never have seen her that way. (Never mind that he did end up with Alcuin; and I know some view that as very, very sketchy given the circumstances but I take no issue with how it went down bc D’Angeline social mores were very clear on Alcuin’s agency as a free & consenting adult when he made that decision. But that’s apropos of nothing here bc Min was a grown ass woman in ARR so.)

anyway tl;dr i don’t feel like i or gisele especially belong in thancred enjoyer land bc of my weird and apparently controversial views about him as a character so I tend to stick with fussing over my painfully victorian & catholic elves in public instead. i don’t even have wips that don’t see the light of day, i just straight up don’t write them lol

[allycryz]

@elveny asked about how everyone's WoL acts when sick and now I am thinking of Nerys being attended to by her lovers

If she is able, Nerys will stay in bed and get her rest. If she can just sleep straight through for 12 hours, she's good...

...except its rare she doesn't have a million things to do so the squad activates to keep her there:

Urianger and Y'shtola have the easiest time of it, being well versed in astrology and conjury. It's easy for them to weave magic to help her relax. Also if Y'shtola serenely and firmly told you to stay in bed, you would. (I mean yes Nerys has played the brat with Y'shtola but in this scenario it would not result in being put over Y'shtola's knee)

Hades is a healer--I see him as a variant of Scholar--but as an attendant he's more sentry than nursemaid. "Absolutely not, get back in bed before I bind you there and NOT in the way you like"

(Hades is possibly the worst patient of them all when he's sick, by the by)

Haurchefant enlists the twins to help--Alphi to heal, Alisaie to watch, while Haurche fetches soup and tea and cold compresses all day.

Thancred is extremely protective but also...he very much is guilty of "working even while unwell" so usually ends up finding ways to help Nerys do her tasks while she rests.

[casualcatte]

RP Journal: 08/04/2020

Third Eye Sushi was an amazing venue, beautiful and welcoming, with staff that were attentive to every need. I was looking forward to the performance by Haurche-fe! And they were brilliant, of course. The best thing about it was the food, I had the best gyoza and yakisoba I’ve had while I’ve been in Kugane. And the plum wine was sweet and refreshing, my glass never running dry!

[ Courtesy Cut for Length! ]

While I was there, I spoke with an elezen woman named Loksia who seemed very kind and congenial. We spoke with a young courtesan who seemed particularly worn out by his clientele. I couldn’t help but tease a bit about it, suggesting foods for stamina, or that another sort of client might be needed. Gods, I think I might be hanging around Edgard too much.

Lorrendor arrived not long after, to say good-bye he said, but Loksia and I both insisted he at least sit a while with us and have a drink. Well, /they/ had a drink.  I ate, drank, and enjoyed the concert. Lorrendor didn’t seem to enjoy it much, though. I saw him glare at the stage more than once, as if the noise and music irritated him. Even people dancing near him seemed a bother. Again, we spoke of the hunt and its dismality with Loksia, the woman -- who was also a hunter -- volunteering to go along with us the next time we went. Lorrendor said it was up to me to decide.

Who am I to decide who he spends his time with?  I’m not his keeper or his secretary. If he wants to go on a hunt with Loksia, he can bloody well ask her himself!  Not that I mind her going at all, but I’m not about to ask a total stranger to entrust me with her life and fortune. She and Lorrendor seemed to have a previous friendship, so why shouldn’t he be the one to ask?  He finally did, inviting her on one of his underground cave-spelunking forays, to which she agreed. For a few minutes, it was like I didn’t even exist. Just a kid sitting at the grown-ups table. 

Lorrendor finally decided to ask me to join them, but at that point it just felt like an after-thought. I don’t know if there’s something going on between the two of them, but I certainly didn’t want in the middle of it. Loksia offered to go on a stag hunt in the Shroud with me sometime, just the two of us, “no men” she said, which made me laugh. Maybe it /would/ be a good idea to have a night free of masculine company. It seems like that’s all that I’ve been surrounded with lately. The conversation wore on until the concert ended and the restaurant began to close, so I paid our tab and took my leave. Lorrendor and I walked back to Kugane, while Loksia went in search of a friend. 

This was Lorrendor’s last night in Kugane, his things already at the Airship Landing, so he asked me to walk with him there. I didn’t see the harm.  As we went, he spoke of how much he’d miss me and how much he’d enjoyed his time in Kugane. I’m not altogether certain of that, given that he hadn’t seemed happy or content since the first night before Edgard had arrived. After that, he seemed moody and… emotional for the lack of a better word. Like everything either worried, scared, or irritated him. I tried a few times to get him to talk to me about what was bothering him, but he always insisted he was fine or just tired. 

The misery of the hunt only seemed to make it all that much worse. I somewhat feel bad for yelling at him about it, but his over-protectiveness is stifling. I don’t know that I can ever get him to treat me like a grown woman capable of doing things for herself and accepting the consequences of her actions. I’ve jokingly taken to calling him ‘Dad’ whenever he frets and fusses over me too much.

Which is why it surprised me that he got all misty eyed when we got to the Airship Landing. Like he was never going to see me again. Maybe he plans to go back to Ul’dah and forget all of this, no matter what he claims with his voice. I don’t know.  I’m not sure what to think.  He’s so mercurial.

I certainly didn’t know what to think when he kissed me.  Only on the cheek, mind, but it was still entirely out of left field. I tried to keep it in the perspective of a father or uncle kissing his daughter or niece good-bye. Something chaste and without intent. After all, he said he wasn’t interested in that sort of thing, so there’s certainly not anything more to it. Oschon’s Tattered Maps, I’m never telling Edgard about this. He’d read /far/ too much into it and I’d never hear the end.

No sooner than he kissed me though, he was gone.  Just like that. He didn’t even wait for me to react or say good-bye to him in return. He just left. What is it with people, me, and these really weird and uncomfortable good-byes?  Can’t I ever have one that’s just nice and congenial?

The one on the Airship Landing in Ul’dah with Edgard doesn’t count. He’d been a complete fool all night and he just didn’t want me leaving continuing to think he’s a fool. Purely self-interested in motive, like a lot of what he does. He did come to Kugane later to buy me dinner and make up for it, but I don’t think that quite counts either.

Speaking of Edgard, when I finally got back to the Bokairo he was half stumbling out.  I don’t know if he’d just fallen out of bed or if he’d just gotten that drunk the night before. Either way, he was thoroughly impressed with the dress I’d worn to the concert, which, I don’t really blame him. I thought I looked /damn good./  In typical style, he tried to make it out like I’d done it to impress him, but I cleared that misconception up by telling him about the concert.

As promised, I took him on the tour of Kugane, working backward from my route with Lorrendor since we started at the Bokairo. Pointing out the sights to him, he noted that for as much time as we spent together, he still knew nothing about me. I found it curious that he was interested.  I also found it curious that one of the questions he peppered in amongst “where are you from” and “what are your hobbies” was also “what do you look for in a man” -- no doubt intended as more fodder for him to pick on me with.

We only got to the halfway point before I needed a break. I’d eaten way too much at Third Eye and it was catching up with me.  So, I sat on the railing, the very same railing that Lorrendor had chastised me for getting on, for fear of me falling. Edgard did no such thing. He hopped right on up there with me. 

As we looked over the city, glittering like a pile of jewels, watching the moon rise… Edgard and I had a real and honest conversation. Or as close to honest as Edgard might ever get. I know there are still things he hides, still things he keeps to himself, but he still talked to me like I was a person for a change, instead of a pretty face he was intent on swooning. I told him about Tailfeather and growing up there, about my parents, and a little about my Hunt for the Saurotaun. 

Vengeance, he called it, though I suppose he’s not far wrong. Part of it is to avenge my parents, but another part of it is to finish what they started and to end the monstrosity’s reign of terror. I know there’s a part of me that should be afraid.  A part of me that should think this is a fool’s errand. It killed not only my parents, but the full Hunt party that had gone with them. What could I, a lone hunter, hope to achieve that they couldn’t? I can’t just put it aside, though, I can’t just forget about it and go on with my life. If I did that, it would be like I gave up on my parents and fed them to the beast myself. 

It’s not in me to abandon a hunt, no matter how difficult. I’ve overcome some pretty long odds before, so why not this?  The Saurotaun has had over fifteen years to get fat and complacent, or even dead.  I don’t even know if it’s alive at this point, but all the rumors I’ve heard lead me to believe it’s still out there.

Anyway, Edgard. He told me he’s going to Ishgard after we complete the hunt I promised him; he has oaths to fulfill that require him there. Naturally, I understand that he has to go. I’d do the same if the Hunt called me elsewhere. Still, with him gone and Lorrendor, Kugane will become a quiet place once again. However, he invited me -- after a fashion in his Edgard-y roundabout way -- to visit him there, which I could, given that I still have my cabin in Tailfeather. I’m not sure I’d want to give him the satisfaction. He’d just use it as another barb for how infatuated I am with him. 

Idiot. Why can’t he just let this be a nice friendship without trying to make it out to be something more?  Or is having me as a friend too much of a vulnerability for him that he has to keep it teetering on the edge of ‘we’re fine” and “I’ve had enough”?

Maybe next time, it’ll be his turn to answer some questions.

[ladyramora]

I've always thought of cute little scenarios in the setting of your fic Drowning in Blue (it's really good and you are doing a good job with it!!), and I was wondering if you could write a short thing where the ger, haurche, and francel gang bring fem,miqo'te!wol to Maurelle from training, since she unexpectedly collapsed. Maurelle nonchalantly tells them she's in heat, and haurche is silently giddy when the wol calls for him in a heated sleep. Thank you!

(Thank you for liking DiB so much ❤ I hope you like this. Young Haurchefant is bae. Francel is adorable, as usual. And I always love writing Ger and my grumpy healer type Lady Maurelle. )

- - -

“By the Fury!” Germanotta exclaims as she catches sight of her lord Haurchefant and lord Francel both struggling to hold up their most recent ward of house Fortemps between the both of them

The miqote hung limp in their grasp, clearly unconscious even as she shivered violently.

Germanotta rushes forward as they stumble, hooking her arms under the miqo'te’s back and under her legs before she had the chance to hit the ground.

Germanotta’s leg twinges with discomfort under the added weight, but she only adjusted her grip and turned to her lord with a concerned frown. “What happened?”

Haurchefant looked a wreck, flushed from the cold yet sweat beaded on his skin. “I do not know!” He admits and seems pained to say so.

“She just… collapsed!” Francel pipes up, tugging at Germanotta’s chainmail in his worry. “Twas only a bit of light sparring, honest! Lord Haurchefant did nothing wrong!”

Haurchefant is frowning, looking to the miqo'te cradled in Germanotta’s arms with concerned blue eyes. “One moment she was pushing me back and then the next her eyes rolled up and she fell back into the snow!”

Germanotta hitches her cargo higher, frowning heavily as she increased her pace. “We must needs take her to see the lady healer immediately.”

- - -

They watch as Maurelle runs through several tests. Checking her eyes and ears, tracking the rate of her pulse.

She presses a hand to her skin and gives a thoughtful hum at the warmth her patient gave off, stepping away with an odd expression as she says, “Well, I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d see the day.” She looks to Haurchefant out of the corner of her eye. “Stop that infernal pacing, young lord, I’ll not have you wear a path in my floors.”

Haurchefant jerks to a stop and wrings his hands instead.

Maurelle rolls her eyes. “Well, ‘tis fortunate you brought her when you did. Any longer and you’d have ill tidings indeed.”

Germanotta frowns. “What is it, lady healer?”

Francel is distraught, reaching out to tug on Maurelle’s healer’s robe. “She’ll be all right, won’t she?”

Maurelle blinks down at him, eyes softening as she smiles. Her hand settling on his hair as she soothes, “Worry not, Master Francel. It is nothing life threatening, just a simple matter of miqo'te biology. Do not cry, young lord. Your friend will be just fine.”

Francel gives a hesitant smile.

Haurchefant stares down at the woman occupying Maurelle’s sickbed. “Biology?” He echoes, tilting his head quizzically.

Maurelle turns to him with a strange smile, “Yes, my lord. Biology. As long as you keep her satisfied you’ll have no need to worry. I have little doubt that you will be the one to assist her in her time of need.”

The look on Germanotta’s face tells Maurelle that the tiny knight has caught on to Maurelle’s meaning and she’s not sure how to feel about it.

“Satisfied,” Germanotta says, like the word is heavy in her mouth.

Maurelle’s eyes curve upwards with the force of her simpering smile. “I’m quite sure you know what I mean, little lion.”

They all turn to the bed then as the miqo'te in question groans.

“Haurchefant,” Her voice is a pained whine, eyebrows tightly knitted as she calls for Lord Haurchefant without waking.

Haurchefant rushes to her side, grasping at her hand. “I am here,” He murmurs, smoothing the wrinkles in her brow with a stroke of his hand upon her head.

The miqo'te sighs, face turning into his hand.

Maurelle nods, crossing her arms. “Well, that settles it. You’ve been chosen to sate her heat, my young lord.”

Haurchefant blinks, staring down at the smile curling his adventurer’s lips. “Her heat?”

Maurelle eyes Germanotta, who puts her hands over Francel’s ears with a frown.

“I want to hear!” Francel protests just the same moment as Maurelle says, “Sex, my lord.”

Haurchefant’s cheeks bloom with color.

[linelpisffxiv]

Three Simple Words

I’m not playing Lin right now. I’ve hit level 56 quests, and you know what it means when I level up, don’t you?

I refuse. No. It’s not gonna happen yet. It’s too soon.

At least let me write more vignettes.

While I did do the first SAE quest before I leveled Lancer/Dragoon from about 15 to 50, I’ve been trying to make a cohesive timeline for this story, and I’m saying that Lin going after Estinien happened sometime after The Ultimate Weapon was completed, and before the first SAE quest. And that the two are months apart.

Also during this time, she and Alphie finally started getting along. They were very teeth-clenched teamwork during the Garuda arc. (And all the “Alphie is a cockblock” jokes are not canon to her story. I’d say that for most, he wasn’t quite so pressing on “No do this now you can’t spend time with your lover”)

When she took up the spear, she said it was to get in touch with her patron. She was known as Lin of the Frost back home. Blessed by Halone with a hailstorm on the day of her birth. Ishgardians prided themselves on their spearwork, so it must have been Halone’s favored weapon.

The first thing she did after the Alliance called forth the Seventh Astral Era was ask for instructions. First from the lancer’s guild, and then, when there was nothing more to teach her there, she sought out dragoons.

The truth of the matter wasn’t to feel Halone breath through her fighting. She sought peace with her views of Ishgard.

After all, her time in Coerthas had shown a variety of people. No different than those anywhere else she had been.

And some places almost felt like a second home.

Some places had Haurchefant.

Lin didn’t know exactly why she had first written to him. She hadn’t asked. It just made sense to share with someone. She once tried to keep a journal when she arrived in Gridania, but she didn’t much care for the tasks. Her life had been much simpler then. Just someone looking for work, wanting to see the world.

The letters were a way to make sense of everything to happen, and he had just seemed so warm. He listened to her after she had that nightmare maybe-echo. Didn’t ask questions, just offered support. And did it again when she needed a moment away from Whitebrim to tell her story.

So of course she went to Dragonhead after Yda and Y’shtola spoke with them.

And it made a good base while she trained with Alberic.

She did her best to keep the sudden disappearance of the Azure Dragoon, his possible betrayal, from the people in Dragonhead. If people knew, she didn’t want to spread the worry.  If it wasn’t common knowledge, she didn’t want to let it slip, especially since Alberic thought she was the best choice to give chase, being the so-called New Warrior of Light.

Her brief glimpse of the man — Estinien — only made her more determined to learn these skills, find a way to access all the powerful jumping attacks Ishgard was known for in fairy stories.

Lin practiced the basics. Her weapon was meant for piercing, just like an arrow. Just longer, and no bow.

She could do that.

Lead with her main foot, let it guide the direction of her spear. Don’t point level with the ground, especially since she’d be fighting someone much taller than her if the worst happened. Lin was a bard, for the Fury’s sake. Maybe she could parley with Estinien after she found him.

“Want a sparring partner?”

The voice pulled her from her thoughts. She knew Haurchefant’s voice well enough, especially over the past week. She’d done her best to keep to the room she had, even if she wanted to spend time in his. She was here for business, and her own damn fluttering heart was not going to win this fight.

“I didn’t know you were skilled with a spear,” she said. She gave a small grin as she spoke.

He took a sword from a nearby rack. “I’m not, but I know how to fight someone with that extra reach a polearm lends them. I promise I’ll go easy on you. Since you’re new to using this weapon.”

She didn’t want him to go easy on her. Estinien wouldn’t if diplomacy failed. That said, Haurchefant was also Elezen, also armored in Isgardian steel. He’d be good practice for her to angle her lance right. “I’m not so new I need you to be a gentleman, Haurchefaunt, but I suppose a partner is better than this dummy. How about a wager, though? If I win, you’ll need to get me some of that kukuru powder your brother sends you.”

Haurchefant grinned. “Well, you seem to think a commander of a strategic camp can afford such a thing. I believe it’s a good price to pay, Lin. Now, if I win…” He grinned. “Show me what’s on that necklace you wear under your armor.”

Alberic’s gem. Ugh. That was a conversation she didn’t want to have happen. About the quirks of the echo she had. At least it meant she had actual motivation to try to win.

“Did you think I wouldn’t accept?”

She put her off-hand on her lance and went into the stance Ywain taught her. “Let’s just say I didn’t think you’d have that as your prize.”

Composure and resolve. That was all she needed. Composure and resolve. Before she had a chance to remind herself a third time, Haurchefant rushed towards her. He gave an easy tell on the sword and she parried with the shaft between her hands.

She smirked. “That was too easy. You’re the Silver Fuller. You don’t get a tltle like that by pulling your punches.”

He laughed at that, sliding a foot behind her lead and pulling it forward.

“And you should know to pay attention to your footwork.”

Lin couldn’t stop herself from falling, but she bent her knees and curled into a roll. She thrust her spear as she got up, but double-checked her footwork.

She shouldn’t let him get close enough to try that again. Parrying was a last option.

Haurchefant jumped away from her thrust. “Not bad, my friend. Though I believe in my haste we forgot to set a win condition for our wager.” He ran a few more yalms away.

She used her lance as a tool to close in the distance. “I dunno. First blood might be fun.”

“We’re too well armored,” he said. “And I would hate to leave a cut on that pretty face of yours.” He slashed towards her from her left. “Disarming? Or maybe three taps.”

“Anyone who judges if one of us was tapped would be biased towards you.” She said as she ducked under his sword. “So until one of us is disarmed. Or perhaps gives in.” With that, she remembered the powerful jumps she had been taught and leapt backwards almost five times her height.

For a moment, Haurchefant just stared in wonder. “I know you were training with a former dragoon. You must explain to me how you learn to jump with such ease.”

Only if he won, of course, but she would not let herself get distracted. The talk was fun, but she could only keep up witty banter for so long before it winded her.

She managed to keep Haurchefant unprepared. While she knew he held back, from the time she fought by his side, she knew that he underestimated her skill. She tried to avoid her dragoon leaps. They were not easy for her to hold back on just yet. Just to get space shen she need it.

Each of them used the strengths of their weapons and size to their advantage. At some point, she saw a few of the residents of Dragonhead gather by the Aetheryte to watch them. Was she that entertaining to them? Despite being more skilled than he expected, she had yet to land a hit on him at all, and nearly lost grip on her lance at least twice since they started. He parried or dodged each blow with little effort.

“Ready to give in?” He asked.

Haurchefant wasn’t even winded from the fight. Lucky Ishgardian.

“You wish,” she said. She thrust her spear towards his hand.

He spun away and pointed the sword at her throat. “Care to think again, love?”

It wasn’t so much that she was clearly outclassed. It was the word he used that caused her to drop the grip.

She knew damn well that she was attracted to him. She wasn’t blind to her heart.

But Lin set her heart aside. He didn’t love her in return. He couldn’t. That first night was just that. A night. A very fun night.

He called her love, though. That was a trick. It had to be.

Yet she fell for it all the same.

“Now, I believe I should find the seller of the Chocolate. Emmanellain dislikes sharing where he and Honoroit get their gifts in the Crozier.”

And he continued as if she won. “But Haurche— I lost. You got me to disarm.”

“And put up a splendid fight. You deserve a tin of my favorite drink. I have a guess about your necklace based on the fight, too.”

She found the chain on the back of her neck and pulled on it. She revealed the small palm-sized blue stone. “Ser Alberic gave it to me when we started training. Said he had no use for it anymore. It’s a long story.”

He held out his hand. “Mayhap we speak about it over Hot Chocolate then. Why, I found out recently that it mixes amazingly with a splash of Hawthorne mead from Gridania.”

Lin nodded her head and picked up her spear. She could share the whole story with Haurchefant, at least. She wanted to. She had reasons that he’d keep quiet, but in the end, it was just she needed to tell someone.

“The kitchens, then. Just you and me. I have much to share with you, too.”

Fury, the way he smiled there made her want to kiss him. She’d given in to that urge more than once, but he had far too many other admirers for her to stand any real chance. He still looked at her as A’lin the adventurer. The odd protector of the great Cid Garlond and Louisouix’s grandson in the vast Coerthan Highlands. Not that it wasn’t welcome to her. She liked not being the Warrior of Light. And if he loved her now and didn’t then, that would just make their friendship feel hollow.

But he didn’t love her then. They were friends. Friends who had slept together twice, but just friends.

“So, we keep having conversations here,” Lin said as she walked into the kitchen. “I suppose I should tell you why Alberic gave me this gem. Well, there’s several reasons. One is my Echo.”

“Your Echo?” He laughed. “Is it different from others?”

“It’s different from the other echo users I know. Gems like these are a kind of crystal, I think, like the ones that summon primals. Formed of aether. I have another gem like the one Alberic gave me. Both of them seem to have taken in the memories and skills of previous holders.”

He smiled. “I see. So you weren’t the one doing the jumping. Alberic in the past was?”

“More Alberic of the past gave me the muscle memory to learn quicker than others. It’s still annoying, since I have the muscle memory of an Elezen.” Her tail swished. “So I need to learn to adapt the reflexes.”

She shook her head as her ears flattened. “That doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

Haurchefant just watched her. “No, I think I understand. You said have another though?”

“I was given it by Jehantel of Gridania. I left it somewhere in my bag, since I don’t plan on needing my voice amplified. Not since I’m training as a dragoon to hunt down someone.”

From there, she couldn’t stop talking. She mentioned why she was sent to Alberic to begin with. Meeting Estinien. Her task to catch him and take back the eye of Nidhogg. How killing him was a real option. One she wasn’t sure she was ready to make. He wouldn’t be her first spoken kill, even if she discounted the beastmen, but that moment he saw her left far too many doubts in her mind about whether he deserved it.

“Lin, you’ll do fine.” His hand went to hers. “And if you think he does not deserve death, then I am certain you can save him and bring him back unharmed.”

“I love you,” she said. It was spontaneous, but she wouldn’t regret it. She already had her truth. “I keep forcing myself to keep you as a friend, but it’s not the case. By the Fury, you probably never read the letters I wrote, but honestly, I needed someone to tell these things, and you always seem to know what to say to me. You guide, not order.”

She didn’t want to look at him. Her tail twitched too fast for her to pay attention. She didn’t want to hear anything.

“I read every letter. I wish I could have helped you with Garuda, but you brought your attack from Gridania. You certainly live an interesting life, Lin.”

His hand left hers, and she felt it on her cheek. Guiding her head to look at him. “And that kiss you gave me when you visited from Whitebrim left me confused for some time. Took me too long to figure it out, but you’re different than everyone else. I want to see where this interest goes.”

She looked at him a second and smiled. “I am certain you need not say three simple words, but I would appreciate it nonetheless.”

He laughed. “I love you.”

Neither had Kukuru milk that afternoon.

[coldshrugs]

wip wednesday

@lavampira and @impossible-rat-babies tagged me and i am plucking away at the baseball fic that involves little to no baseball.

i'll tag (no obligation ofc): @hythlodaes @scionshtola @hylfystt @ellstersmash @the-rogue-mockingjay @myreia @lilas and @magebastard 💗

(cringe text message convo between exes below the cut)

HG: hey io. haven't heard from u in literally a year. i've been worried. u okay? IL: haurche, wow. it's actually really good to hear from you. IL: i'm not exactly okay, but i'm trying. getting help. HG: glad to hear it. i'm so sorry for ur loss. i don't think i can say it enough. IL: i think i've heard it enough for a lifetime, but thank you ♥ IL: and i'm really sorry for the way things went down. that was unfair. i think i knew that at the time, even in the depths of the pit. we were only together for a few months. it felt like putting too much on your plate HG: so u took away the plate. IL: so i took away the plate. like i said, unfair to you IL: i understand if there are hard feelings, but it means a lot that you're checking in. HG: no hard feelings, no grudges. i wish u would've let me be there for u, but i guess we won't know just how much my plate can handle. HG: unless... u want to grab coffee sometime? IL: lol, i'm deeply flattered you still consider me a viable dating option after witnessing me in a nearly catatonic state. IL: but i think i might be seeing someone? maybe? hard to say tbh. i've got valentine's plans tho, so we'll see. HG: yeah? we've got the same plans. i play baseball too, remember? HG: listen... just don't make too many assumptions with him. given the context, this sounds shitty, but he doesn't seem super into it IL: okay... thanks for your insight. and for the perspective on who you're actually worried about here. later.

[allycryz]

WOL Challenge #8: Apart

[Prompt List Here]

[Filled Prompts Here]

Heavensward, post-Vault

Aymeric visits a recuperating Haurchefant while their loves travel to Azys Lla

Rating: T for mild sex talk, references to Aymeric’s time in the Vault

Pairings: Haurchefant x Nerys, Aymeric x Estinien

Discussed Estinien x Haurchefant, Implied Aymeric x Nerys x Estinien, Haurchefant x Aymeric

"Thank you for coming." Count Edmont de Fortemps says as he personally escorts Aymeric through the manor. A development he hadn’t anticipated.

That could be said about much of the past week.

"I owe Lord Haurchefant a great deal," Aymeric replies with an incline of his head. "And not just recently. He has always been a good friend to me."

"I hear that often, especially of late." The Count's brow furrows with an emotion between pride and sorrow. "It seems my son is well-loved."

"He is." There are those who will never show favor to someone like Haurchefant–like Aymeric–but all else adore him. Despite his near-constant presence at Camp Dragonhead, the man made friends of the apple sellers of the Crozier; the scholars in the Church; every tavern owner in the city; and much more besides.

"Then he has surpassed my every hope." Lord Edmont looks him over. "And how are you faring, Lord Commander? I have not forgotten the state you were in days ago."

"On the mend, thanks to the chirurgeons you found." Loyal men sword to Lord Edmont and House Fortemps. Young Master Leveilleur had monitored the healing himself in the initial days. No one spoke aloud what they all thought: a traitor might slip in and finish the job. 

Blessedly, his father hadn’t seen to that particular cruelty.

 "Tell me, how is he?"

"...Better. But we are discovering that my son is not the best patient."

"Truly? I would not have guessed that."

"Oh he is good-natured to all. But he alternates between pushing himself too fast, too soon or falling into a quiet sulk when he cannot get his way. No doubt that whatever mood he is in, he will try to hide it the moment someone walks in."

"That sounds more like Haurchefant." 

They reach the door--handsome oak with subtle unicorn carvings in the panels--and Lord Edmont steps back. "I will leave you to it, Lord Aymeric. Twill do him good to see you."

“Thank you.” He is surprised by the genial clasp of his shoulder. There has been much talk of the changes seen in the three sons of House Fortemps. But Aymeric thinks the patriarch has also changed–as if Nerys’ presence has given him permission at last to be more open with his affection.

He cannot put into words, how much he appreciates the fatherly gesture just then. 

Haurchefant slumps in an armchair by the fire, clad in a finely woven red and gold dressing gown over a tan nightshirt that falls to his ankles. He sits tall at the sound of the door, wincing when the movement jostles his injuries. The wounded arm is in a sling, carefully obscured beneath the scarlet silk. 

“Aymeric,” he says. “Father told me to expect you. Forgive me for not standing, I am under strict orders to remain in this chair.”

“If you did, I should be very cross with you.” Aymeric sits in the opposite chair, warming his legs by the roaring fireplace. “You know you don’t have to stand on ceremony with me.”

Haurchefant covers his mouth, wincing as a chuckle moves through him. “Was that a pun?”

“It wasn’t not a pun.” Aymeric grins. “I’m sorry, I see that laughing is painful for you right now.”

“Don’t you dare apologize, I haven’t laughed in days.” He adjusts in his chair, mild consternation creasing his brow as he seeks a comfortable pose. Aymeric has suffered enough battle wounds in the past to know the frustration well. At last, Haurchefant picks up a bell on his sidetable. “Tea? Food?”

“Tea sounds lovely. Are you hungry?”

“Oh it’s complicated, that question.” Haurchefant’s genuine smile turns into something artificial. “I am not hungry and not hungry and not hungry but then I eat something...suddenly I am ravenous. The body is truly strange when it ails.”

“I remember.” Aymeric motions to his right side. “I took a mercifully non-fatal wound here a few years ago and that was the very same experience.”

“And your wounds recently?” Haurchefant rings the bell and settles back against his chair. “How are you faring? You look better.”

“I am better. All that’s left are the usual aches and sores of the body healing.” And a few scars, but those would fade over time. It was more than he had hoped for in that dungeon–Don’t think on it. Ask about him. “You look much better, too.”

“Flatterer.” Haurchefant winks. “But come now, you can pay me a prettier compliment than that.”

A servant enters the room, waiting at attention once it’s clear no one is in distress or pain. Haurchefant requests tea (“plenty of cream and birch syrup on the side please”), finger sandwiches, and the famous petit fours. Éléonore refuses to divulge her secrets despite all of Aymeric’s attempts to wheedle them out of the Fortemps’ chef.

“A ravenous day then?”

“Not really, but! My dear friend has come calling and I would treat him to things he likes.” 

“With or without the prettier compliments?”

“With, naturally. Else I will tell Gregor to summarily evict you from the premises.”

Aymeric gives a long-suffering sigh, the one that can only be learned from Estinien Wyrmblood. But he stands to take Haurchefant’s uninjured hand and raises it slow to his lips, maintaining deliberate eye contact. 

Etiquette demands he kiss the air above it but they are old, dear friends. He presses his lips to the knuckles and murmurs, “To see your beautiful face, to see you on the mend...it does this heart much good.”

“...Pretty indeed.” Aymeric doesn’t think he has ever seen the other man blush before. He won’t point it out but instead treasure it, for as long as it lasts. “Serves me right to challenge an unapologetic charmer.”

“I’d believe that if I didn’t know you love being put in your place, in the right mode.” Aymeric resumes his seat. “Estinien told me as much.”

“Ah…” An even dreamier expression overtakes Haurchefant. He should have visited sooner, if he is this gifted at lifting his friend from despondency. “That was a night I shan’t forget. He said he would tell you, but I never knew if he actually did.”

“He did. We talk about most of our intrigues and it was no small thing, that one of us should spend a night with our oldest and dearest friend. I never thanked you, by the by. For watching over him when he fled with The Eye.”

“No thanks required.” Haurchefant says. “I only wish I might watch over him now. He and Nerys both.”

“...I feel the same.” Aymeric admits. The very subject he hoped to avoid, if that was even possible. “Though I am well aware that we must stay here, just as they must go.”

“Must they…?” Worry and sorrow are clear in Haurchefant and he is slower to mask these. Hopefully, because he feels safe to bare such emotions in this company. “Ah, I know they must. As I know they will prevail. But it goes against everything in me, to stand by while my heart is in danger.”

“Hear hear.” It does not become easier, watching Estinien leave for another mission. To love a warrior is to embrace the possibility of loss with every day. Estinien took the same chance when he fell for Aymeric. “I am proud of them.”

“As am I.” Haurchefant fidgets again. “My apologies Aymeric, I did not mean to be so dour with company.”

“If not with me, then who?” Aymeric shakes his head. “You understand why I lost my heart to that man. Orchestrated it, even.”

“Ha. I only saw two friends pining and saw fit to help...push them along, as it were. You lost your heart long before I got involved.”

“Fair. I always wondered…”

Two servants enter with the refreshments and it takes some engineering to put everything in easy reach. Haurchefant has to adjust his pose again, doing a near-perfect job of hiding any discomfort. He thanks them profusely for their concerns, saying he is feeling better than he has in days.

Once alone, they fall quiet as tea is sipped and sandwiches tried. Aymeric sets aside a plate of three petit fours with sugar violets. If not, they will disappear by the time he finishes the savory portion.

“You feel that much better?”

“In truth...I am exhausted. The act of getting up and washed and dressed alone left me feeling as begrimed as before.” Haurchefant sighs. “But I did not want them to feel like they had to wait around. In any case, what did you wonder?”

“Hm? Oh.” Aymeric sets down the delicate red and white cup. “Why you went to such lengths when it was clear you held a torch for Estinien.”

“That? That’s easy.” Haurchefant shrugs and immediately winces. He must have forgotten that gesture was off-limits. “My friends were in love and I wanted them to be happy.”

“You had no notion we would be what we are,” Aymeric presses with a vague gesture. “A couple with an open arrangement.”

“My reward was your joy. That Halone saw fit to give me an extra gift well…” Haurchefant smirks. “Proof that patience and self-sacrifice are holy in her eyes.”

“Such blasphemy.” Aymeric does his best not to laugh or smile.

“Not at all! Did not Menphina find love in the arms of both Halone and Oschon?” 

“I beg of you, Haurche.” Aymeric shakes his head. “The Fury must love you for all she has done, but even her divine grace must have limits.”

“Ah but who are we to set limits upon anything? Her divine grace or the boundaries of our hearts?” Haurchefant grins. “I wish I had known that teasing you was medicine. Can you come again tomorrow?”

“If I can manage it, I’ll come every day.” Aymeric says, truthfully. “Until this is over.”

The mischievous glint in Haurchefant’s eye trades for a solemn mien. He sighs. “Pray that the Fury brings them home soon. Not just to save you from my teasing, but so we have them back safe and sound.”

“I will drink to that.” Aymeric lifts his teacup. “To their safe return, so we may fuss over them.”

“To their safe return,” Haurchefant echoes. “If I am still unable to move well, you may have to embrace them both in my stead.”

“Gladly.” 

If only Haurchefant knew how near to the truth he was. Estinien will tease him for it later, the Lord Commander hugging Nerys. But as Aymeric had pressed his lover about particular fantasies involving the Warrior, it is only fair. 

Though when they return, Aymeric will feel less passion and more utter relief. Would that he might keep all three of them safe in the Pillars from then onward.

“Oh, I know you would.” Haurchefant says, lowering his cup. 

Aymeric remembers that look. An invitation to meet him in the evening for stargazing, the night of a meteor shower. Only, he had found Estinien there instead. Who also wondered where Haurchefant was.

Some poor boy–no doubt tipped outrageously well–appeared with a message that Haurchefant was detained and they were to enjoy themselves.

“Drink your tea, my lord.” Aymeric says.

“Yes, ser.” 

Perhaps Haurchefant knows, after all.

[allycryz]

‘ you’re exhausted, [nickname of your choice]. ’ haurche x emet <3 IF your reblog was requesting prompts, if it wasn't, then no pressure! (:

It was! Please enjoy!

Timeline: post-ShB, Hades and Nerys are together. Loosely set after this prompt fill but not at all needed to read before reading this. Hades is struggling coming to terms with the fact that he is in love with Thancred and Y’shtola, and now here comes Haurchefant

Food cw

Hades dissipated out of the bed in a rush of aether.

They slept too lightly for him to rearrange things–shift Nerys into the space left between her and Thancred. And he might need the opening if he chose to return. Might. It was hardly comfortable, cramming five people into this bed. Fortunate, that Urianger chose this week to sequester himself in Thanalan.

The four of them remained asleep. For a breath of a moment he thought Haurchefant opened his eyes. But no, the man remained in perfect repose with Y’shtola curled up in his arms. Both in easy, peaceful sleep after bells of activity.

No one else was in the kitchen when he shuffled in, bleary-eyed and less than sure-footed. Blessedly empty...and cursedly understocked. He had balanced Tataru’s ledgers himself last week before his departure. Someone had been greedy about taking more than their share.

A fine homecoming. He rubbed at his now-healed hip as he considered what remained. The laceration was long gone before he returned from the mission Nerys had sent him on–handling a crowd of wealthy mages set on a coup in Ishgard. His own magic had repaired the damage before his “welcoming party” could fuss over it. And still, Y’shtola had stroked her claws over it and given him a pointed look.

Peppermint tea was the best of the options. No hardship truly, but coffee or his preferred types of tea would have been preferable. At least the Ironworks appliances were in good working order. Naturally, the most reliable components of his past-midnight drink were of Garlean make.

“I’m surprised you’re awake.”

Hades near bit his tongue at the sound. He must be tired if he hadn’t detected someone approaching. “Last I saw you, my lord, you looked dead asleep.”

“Oh I’ve been drifting in and out. What are you having?” There was all the room in the world for Haurchefant to stand on either side of him. Instead, the man put himself directly behind Hades and peered over his shoulder. “I did not know you liked peppermint tea.”

“It’s fine. There is nothing else available.”

“Incorrect, dear Hades.” His breath fluttered against Hades’ ear before he moved to the cupboard a few paces away. He felt along the wood panel...and tapped before opening it. Prior, it had contained nothing but containers for leftovers. Now it held a bevy of baking supplies, including several bars of expensive Ishagrdian bittersweet chocolate. “Fetch me the milk and heavy cream, if you please. If we only have one of those, we shall make do.”

“Did you do this? I did not think your thaumaturgy lessons had advanced this far.” He ignored the request to examine the working. This had also escaped his notice, the charms for it dormant and cloaked until Haurchefant roused them.

“No no, all I did was provide the ‘key’, as it were. Luckily, I have an intimate acquaintance with several renowned mages and scholars.” It was a difficult thing, to straddle the line of lechery and love in one expression. Most tried and failed. Yet, here was a shining example, so bright that it could hurt the dark aether Hades drew upon. “The milk and-”

“Yes, yes, I’ll fetch them.”

There was no heavy cream but they did have prodigious amount of milk in the icebox. He brought it over to the other man, who set to chopping chocolate upon the wooden cutting board shaped like a very rotund cat.

“...I do need to ask,” Haurchefant said amidst the rhythmic chopping. “Why did you not simply magic yourself a cup of your preferred beverage?”

Hades dropped his face into one hand with a very long, very exasperated sigh. The other hand flicked into the air, providing Haurchefant with a bottle of the heavy cream they lacked.  “It goes without saying, you will not mention this.”

“Of course not,” Haurchefant chuckled. He set the knife down and wiped his hands with the nearby towel. “Darling man, you’re exhausted aren’t you?”

“Even I can be depleted at times.”

“If I may be so bold-”

“My dear ser, when have you ever hesitated before?”

“More than you might imagine.” He caught the long tie of Hades’ robe, rubbing the silken fabric between thumb and forefinger. The mirth diminished in his eyes, replaced with something softer, more vulnerable. And that same, often-aggravating core of resiliency he always carried with him. “I will be bold then. You undertook a perilous mission, traveled a long way back to great aetheric cost, and then was promptly ravished by three lovely people and their very handsome Ishgardian. Why are you not sound asleep in the bed right now?

“Strange as it may seem...sometimes one can be so exhausted, you cannot sleep.” Hades tugged the sash away, gesturing at the ingredients. “Come now, you need to heat the dairy.”

“I have been fortunate enough not to experience that. Though I have witnessed it in Nerys sometimes.” With that, Haurchefant set to obedience; dutifully measuring out the liquids, the sugar, the small amount of espresso. He had witnessed the man cook before but never with exact amounts. Haurchefant was more likely to add by eye and by taste than employ the cups and spoons he did then.

“Though I am sorry it exhausted you into insomnia…” Haurchefant plucked a whisk from the drawer. “I am glad you allowed us to welcome you back properly.”

Hades made a show of studying his nails. The black paint had chipped dreadfully since Nerys painted them last. He willed the color away with a brush of magic–he would ask her for a new manicure in the morning. “You may have noticed, ser, that I enjoy the carnal pleasures.”

“I may have noticed it once or twice, yes.” The metal spokes of the whisk made light music upon the saucepan as Haurchefant studied the edges. Poised to move as soon as the correct bubbles appeared.

Haurchefant hummed a somewhat familiar tune. An old Ishgradian nursery song, Hades guessed. Abominably catchy, sure to haunt him for hours going forward. The man made it charming enough to forgive him for it.

The saucepan left the flame, chocolate dropped into the mixture. The rich aroma filled the air and Hades felt something in him relax at it. He’d never had much of a sweet tooth but chocolate...that was a concept he approved of. Haurchefant filled two delicate cups and brought them to the table in the corner, beckoning him to join.

Hades set himself in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. The first sip of chocolate was everything the aroma promised: rich, dark, sweet but not overly so. Perhaps he would be able to sleep tonight.

“Do you like it?”

“Quality as always, Lord Emissary.” Hades inclined his head. “I hope it remedies whatever has you up and about at such a forsaken hour.”

“Truly? I got out of bed to check on you.”

“Kind of you,” said Hades, ignoring the treacherous pain in his chest. Determined not to give in to the tenderness of the statement. “But also: nosy. Dear dear, what shall be done with you?”

“If I recall…” Haurchefant’s eyebrows rose. “You made excellent use of me this evening.”

“Yes, Nerys does like to see you in raptures. And I am nothing if not generous to my lovers.”

"How generous? What might I receive from you?"

If Haurchefant wanted to play this game, Hades would oblige. (It certainly was steadier ground.) “For one, you might receive the gift of my receiving. You gave to everyone else but me.”

“Oh but Hades…” Haurchefant learned forward and curled his index finger under Hades’ chin. "Would you deny me the sight of you thrusting? Every time you do...Fury but you're radiant. And you feel perfect."

Sweeter words had been spoken in his ear, similar overtures made in far more sensual environs. But Haurchefant speaking those words in the dark kitchen, gazing at him like that-

-he found it very hard to breathe or think of a response. 

Instinct took over, millenia of etiquette stamped into his bones. Mores and gestures changed over time and place but many classics were the same as they had been in Amaurot. He caught Haurchefant’s hand and kissed it with a mild, seated bow. 

He found his voice and looked up with his sly, ready smile. And Haurchefant looked at him with such aching sweetness that it broke him again. The next innuendo caught in his throat and instead he said, “Nerys was right, when she called you a poetic soul.”

“Thank you, dear Hades.” He rose and Hades braced himself for the kiss, the caress of hand upon cheek. The table might support their weight though the floor would be better-

His lips dropped upon the crown of Hades’ hair.  "I hope the chocolate helps you sleep. I expect you to come to bed at some point, lovely one."

"Even if it disturbs your sleep again?" Hades murmured, feeling the same treacherous pain in the hollow cavity of his chest.

"Ah Hades, it will be well worth it to see the happiness on their faces to wake up with you. All three of them." 

He departed. Hades stared into his half-full cup of chocolate.

--

"Good morning."

"Ugh," Hades dragged the pillow over his face. "Precisely what is good about this bright sun at this early hour?"

"I have some ideas." Thancred slid a hand into the silk robe. Tracing the creases and marks the bunched fabric left during the night. "When did you put this on?"

"Does it matter?" Hades grumbled, stilling under the light touch.

"Probably not." The cheeky knave took away his pillow and straddled his waist, far too energetic and chipper for a man with claw marks across his chest.

Hades sighed, looking up into that handsome face. “Where are the others?”

The door to the attached bathroom opened, answering his question. The missing three filed out in towels, robes, and damp hair. Y’shtola smirked at them. “Are we interrupting?”

"Do you want to interrupt?" Hades asked. The truth he had been–stubbornly, foolishly–ignoring was plain on their faces. Thancred and Y’shtola looked at him the same way Nerys did and he was glad for it. 

What he should have expected and was still thrown by: Haurchefant gazed at him the same way. 

Ah. He thought as Y'shtola got onto the bed. I do believe I am in trouble.

[allycryz]

Five Favorite Passages from 2020

Tagged by @elveny and @kunstpause​ 

Tagging all who want to participate! That means you!

In no particular order! Limiting myself to what is published for at least four of these, one of them is not yet published

From my Thancred x Nerys x Emet fic Incandesce, which has a lot of passages I really dig! Also this leads to the scene where Thancred explains why he suggested this, which I also was excited to write

There is no buffer. No Thancred to protect her or distract her. And she is afraid-

But not of him, she realises with a start. It’s the intensity I feel when he touches me. I’m scared of how much I want him to touch me again. I’m scared at how right this seems.

She pushes herself up with one hand, the other cups the back of his neck. Pulls him down to her. Emet stills only a moment before his eyes flutter shut and he submits to her, mouth moving soft and slow over hers. His hands curl about her waist, thumbs stroking over her skin. He savors her with the slow drag of his tongue coaxing her more open, more vulnerable to his ministrations.

When they part his eyes are half-lidded, expression utterly relaxed. He’s beautiful. He’s always beautiful. But this pierces her in a new way, so lovely he could rend her heart in two with one look. And he just might.

Rest under the cut

From my Vault fix-it fic This World of Trials. This one got me emotional to write, re-write, and edit:

Propped upon a mountain of pillows, his arm and shoulder thickly bandaged, ashen and exhausted but alive and there and alive–she is out of tears but her dry eyes burn and her hands tremble.

Haurchefant softens all at once. His voice breaks. “Oh...oh my beloved. What you have done…”

Nerys rushes to him, narrowly missing Emmanellain and the sloshing broth. She clasps the uninjured hand Haurchefant raises, pressing her mouth to the palm, to the back of the hand. Presses it to her cheek and glories in the feel of his thumb over her skin. He is not too drained of water to cry–she sees the glimmer in his eyes.

It is not enough. She bends to him, tilting his chin to kiss him as if her continuing existence required it. Her hands curl in his silken hair, needing him as the land has ever needed the sun and the wind. Two voices gasp, a teacup clatters against a saucer, someone laughs aloud in delight.

His cheeks are wet against hers.

When at last they part she is half splayed the bed, half kneeling on the carpet. Haurchefant cups her wrists, disentangling her hands so he can kiss one and then the other. “Beloved,” he repeats. “Oh my dear, oh my heart…”

From this WoL Challenge Prompt Fill for Outrage, because Haurche is not often angry I wanted to write him angry in a way that was still *him*

The Exarch summons him to The Ocular and he dares not hope for...anything, truly. Better to go in with no expectations with this one. He thinks Y’shtola had the right idea, departing as she did.

He is being unkind. He does not like being unkind.

But he also does not like the idea of these souls in peril–Y’shtola, Thancred, his beloved Urianger–and that he may not see Nerys again. Or that he will, only to send her against horrific creatures of light and terror. And what of her soul?

When he sees that it’s Alphinaud, he is beyond unkind. He is furious.

Everything else was bad enough but this is a boy, his family’s ward. One who has wisdom beyond his years and responsibilities equal to those twice his age but still. Alphinaud is just a lad. What if something happens to his soul?

His body may still be in Garlemald!

This dialogue from Obstacles in Trajectory, where Thancred and Nerys bet answers in a game of Triad and are now collecting after she has a rough encounter with an ex. Fun to set up and write

“It was never...No. But I got to know her entire family and how proud they were of their daughter the artist. She paints these landscapes...it’s as if you’re there but it’s all enhanced. Entrancing. Capturing the aether in the landscape without making it so obvious.” Nerys traces the silhouette of the trees against the dusk, fingers dancing in the air over the patterns of aether she can see when she squints. “I bet the ones she got of this place were fantastic.”

“So what happened?”

Nerys shakes her head. “Mm, I’ve talked quite enough. You should tell me something.”

“That’s not the pattern we agreed on Mistress Eluned.”

She bristles. Reaches for the bottle again and takes a long swig. “You asked mine so I ask yours. Why didn’t you kiss me that day? I know you were going to.”

If she poked him now, she might knock him over. The shock on him shows he wasn’t expecting that one. Thancred wraps a warm hand around hers, prying the bottle away. Nerys holds on a moment, face scrunching into a scowl before she lets him take it.

“If I tell you,” he starts. He crouches beside her, holding the bottle in his lap. Close now–no matter how he seems to fight it, he ends up back in her orbit smelling of travel and sea salt and leather and blade oil. “Will you tell me what happened?”

“I’ll tell you.” She shifts to balance on her knees, looking down at him now. “I promise.”

And this WIP bit. After I finish posting Brisk, Keen Dagger Bold I have a side story/scene for This World of Trials with Aymeric and Estinien. 

THEN this story will go up which is part of a duology–two stories about Haurchefant and Nerys preparing for what lies ahead after Dragonsong. Haurchefant says goodbye to the life he has known as Lord Commander while rekindling his friendship with his brothers.

"I remember." At the time, Haurchefant assumed his brother had decided he liked his new friends better. Spending time with them would not earn Artoirel a scolding.

"...I never told you this. They were awful. Talked about how their parents called father Edmont Oathbreaker in private." Artoirel glowers. Not at anything in the room, Haurchefant suspects, but at bitter memories. "They would smile so sweet and say 'oh but surely you will not be like him Artoirel. It isn't your fault that your father is dishonorable.' And what could I do? They put on such manners that if I were to object, I would seem the rude one."

"...Did you tell no one?"

"No one. I'm sure Father and Mother knew. And you...even with things so fraught between us, I could never hurt you by exposing you to such things."

Outsiders often remark how different the trueborn Fortemps brothers are from each other. Haurchefant knows better how alike Artoirel and Emmanellain are.

Above all else, they share such startling naivete.

"Artoirel," he says. "If the other children said such to the Fortemps heir, what do you think they said to the Fortemps bastard?"

Artoirel looks struck, as if Haurchefant has loosed an arrow into his chest. His lips part to say something but nothing comes.

[elfyourmother]

may i pls say i love how you handle edmont? the situation of a parent who doesn't want to see past pains recreated yet is still supportive and loving? his support for his child's multiple loves? edmont is not the focus here but it means SO much [to me, specifically, as a reader]

Edmont de Fortemps is one of my very favorite characters in the game and it’s so patently obvious to me where Haurchefant gets his sense of nobility from, and I’m not talking about blood here. To me, Edmont embodies the idea that sometimes the way people handle their mistakes is the truest measure of their character.

Like, he royally fucked up and made a terrible mistake, but he owned up to it. He did the best he could under the circumstances to mitigate it and make amends, but he was in many ways constrained by the world he inhabited. Ishgard being so hidebound by tradition, obsessed with class and status, he couldn’t live according to his heart. That’s the whole tragedy of it—Edmont’s mistake wasn’t falling in love with someone who wasn’t his wife, it was falling in love with a servant. If it had been a woman (or a man for that matter) of equal status, or even one from a house minor, Carine (the Countess in my hc) would have likely looked the other way or even come to an understanding with him, to permit him a mistress or even a consort. And if it had just been about sex, she wouldn’t have cared nearly as much. Lord knows he wouldn’t be the first noble in the Pillars to get caught with his pants down like that, and there’s a reason “Greystone” is even a term to begin with. They’re told their entire lives that their blood, this total accident of birth, entitles them to whatever they want, and that an entire class of people exists to serve them. Why wouldn’t they use commonfolk for their pleasure, like they do for their labor and everything else? Men of power and privilege fuck around constantly, and they fuck maids and servants all the damn time. If it had just been about that, Carine wouldn’t have been happy, but she would have understood. It’s a fact of life in the Pillars, among the noble houses.

What they distinctly don’t do is fall in love with maids and servants and try to make a life with them. She was abjectly humiliated by that affair, not because he cheated, but because he did so with a maid--and claimed to love her.  But Edmont claimed to love this maid, as much as he loved her. That was the galling thing to her, that Edmont, a prince of the blood, Dauphin and then Count of House Fortemps would dare to put her, the mother of his heir, on the same level as a scullery maid and by extension tried to act like the fruit of their union was anything but a bastard greystone. It was 100% class prejudice that fueled Carine’s anger, and really, she was raised to believe these things just like every other Ishgardian noble--raised to believe in the supremacy of their blood and the divine right of rule it gave them, literally raising themselves above the commons even physically. (If only any of them understood the inherent irony that they made the commoners of Ishgard live in a place called Foundation--good luck erecting anything without one, much less pillars!)

If he had denounced the child, she might have been able to get past it. But Haurchefant’s physical presence in that house was a constant reminder of what Edmont had done, and she totally took it out on an innocent child. Like Haurche said in a Warmer Hearth:

My father is the most honorable man I have ever known; and yet, I am the living expression of his frailty. The issue of his sole indiscretion, youthful though it was. Such things are not uncommon, as you might imagine, even among the High Houses. Where my father erred in their eyes, however, was in lifting the bastard get of a scullery maid to the same status of his trueborn heir, and the trueborn son which followed me. I was raised a Fortemps, the same as they. And my existence was ever a canker on my stepmother’s very soul. Not a day passed that she did not let me know as much.

...But the Lady Carine went to her deathbed despising me for silver hair no Fortemps ever bore. Twas she who gave me my name, you see; the price of peace in Fortemps Manor, for the life my father wished for me, though she felt it a mockery of her own. It was a reminder that I would never be the trueborn my father held me to be, not like my brothers. A Greystone could     never.

All of this weighed on Edmont, and I think it’s why he was so emotionally distant for so much of Haurche’s childhood. He tried to do the right thing by his son, first of all because he believed it was brutally unfair that he should suffer because of his own failings (and youthful naivete tbh. Edmont damn well knew all of this above, he was raised in the same society! but he still tried to fly too close to the sun). But also because the same thing that made Carine hate Haurchefant was part of why Edmont loved him--he was all Edmont had left of this woman he loved so dearly, and it was as much to honor what she meant to him as it was his deep and abiding love for his son that made him fight so hard to give Haurchefant the live he felt he deserved. But Edmont also felt incredibly guilty, because he loved Carine dearly--theirs was a true love match, even though it was politics that drove it. And he hated himself for hurting her so badly, and I think it’s why he didn’t intervene as much as he should have when Haurche was growing up. Keeping peace in the household was paramount, and Carine held it over his head literally until the day she died.

Guilt paralyzed Edmont a great deal, in general. Guilt that he basically destroyed his family, because Carine became this bitter shell of the woman he fell in love with, his sons constantly pitted against each other and feeling like they needed to take sides. There was guilt that he couldn’t protect Haurchefant from society’s prejudices no matter how hard he tried, and guilt over all of this that kept him distant. I mean Haurche writes in his letter to WoL in the official short story that the time he begged Edmont to take them in was the most words they’d ever spoken to each other.

Edmont is an incredibly loving man though, and that comes across in everything he does--it’s clear how much he loves his children and tried to do right by them even if he fucked up sometimes and didn’t quite know how to express it or feel worthy of it at times. Love caused him to make some awful choices, but also some really good ones. In a better world, he would have been free to follow the dictates of his heart, and Haurche’s mother wouldn’t have had to leave him, never to see her baby again.

But it’s because of that love that he wants the best for his children, ultimately, and the larger part of that is wanting them to not repeat his mistakes. His sons are his pride and joy, they’re his whole heart. He doesn’t want them to suffer the way he did, because Society couldn’t accept him as he was--the world he inhabited snuffed out his dreams because it just wasn’t ready for them. So it means something to him that Haurchefant loves so freely, and is able to do so. Even before Gisele and the others, Edmont would have been perfectly content had Haurchefant announced that he intended to marry Francel, for example. But the fact that Haurchefant doesn’t have to choose between his lovers, that he can build a life with them, means more to Edmont than he could ever express. Gisele and Aymeric and Estinien were Fortemps long before their wedding day, as far as Edmont was concerned.

Much of what drives Aymeric to build a better future for Ishgard is all of this, so that the circumstances that shaped Haurchefant’s childhood, as well as his own, won’t ever exist again to make another family tragedy like this. What floors me to really think about, when I consider all of this, is that literally none of this would have been possible had it not been for Gisele’s presence in their lives. House Fortemps was a broken family when she walked into the manor, and she mended these old, deep wounds quite unintentionally just by being who she is: kind and loving and compassionate and stubborn. In the process she changed Ishgard forever, on the macrocosm.

[allycryz]

Several Sentence Sunday Monday

tagged by @kunstpause and @omgkalyppso​, tagging anyone who wants in!

Bit of a longer snippet so putting it behind the cut. Start of Stormblood

Y’shtola x Nerys, references to alcohol and innuendo

For all her complicated feelings about Urianger, he has been excellent for Haurche.

"He's preparing for their sunrise training session tomorrow. Urianger is letting him have a practice sword for ten minutes."

"That is promising news. So he still rises early?"

Nerys smiles. "He is a soldier at heart. And eager to be one again, as soon as he is able."

“I admit, I wonder what it’s like to fight alongside him.” Y’shtola has another one of those secretive smiles, hinting at teasing. Nerys hadn’t expected just how mischievous the other woman could be in all her idolizing. “Is he as brash as you are?”

“Ha, do you think I am brash in battle?”

“I think you are not afraid to throw yourself into the fray. And I’m glad Alphinaud has your back while Krile and I remain here.”

“He’s grown as a healer,” Nerys says with not a little pride. She feels a great surge of affection for the youth she thinks of as a little brother, for all the progress he has made. “And for your information, I only had to skirt death about half a dozen times yesterday.”

“Truly? You’ve grown in leaps and bounds.”

She nearly chokes on her next mouthful of water at that one. It hurts a little as she swallows it down, as if water were suddenly a scratchy, painful thing. A few coughs sets her to rights. “Was that….Y’shtola did you make a pun?”

“I’m not one for puns.” Her comrade says in her sly little way, prim as you please even with crinkles at her eyes. “Are you going to stand up for a song?”

“Me? Only if I had a bit of drink first and we’ve a long day tomorrow.” As she says this, M’naago steps up to lead a round with the Ala Mhigans going first and the rest fumbling second and third. “I like singing but I always freeze up a little if I have to do it solo in front of people.”

“Even if everyone joins in?”

“Even then, because you have to be the main voice to lead everyone.”

“Alright.” Y’shtola raises her own cup to her lips. Steam wafts from the clay cup, the sharp scent of mint drifting over. She takes a small, polite sip. How she can drink something hot in the desert boggles the mind. It is not late enough for the night to become chill as it often does. At least, not by Nerys’ standards. But she has always run hot, to Thancred’s chagrin-

There she went again.

“Then when next this happens and you are able,” continues Y’shtola. “We’ll share some wine and you’ll be ready to do it.”

Nerys laughs, happy to think of something else. “Why so determined?”

“I think it would be fun. Is that not reason enough?”

“...I can’t argue with that logic. But it had better be red wine or a rosé.”

“A woman after my own heart.” And that sets another thrill in her. One would think that after having other people treat her like a statue on a pedestal, Nerys would not be so inclined to do it now. All it does is make her consciously aware of her behavior. The more she gets to know Y’shtola the person, the more she cannot help but admire her.

“I’ll sing ‘Spring in the Meadow’, just for you.” She gives Y’shtola a little salute with her mug. The attempted rounds have collapsed on themselves and another Maelstrom member is up, a Hyur person with their hair in a long, silver braid and a great big grin. They open their mouth to sing just as the flute and not-quite-a-lute strikes up. 

“On that note,” Nerys continues, blushing slightly as the familiar, bawdy lyrics of “The Pearl in the Oyster” fill the air. “I think I’ll try to sleep.”

“Pleasant dreams.” Y’shtola gives her hip a little pat, laughing as the crowd joins in the verse. The feel of her hand remains as Nerys walks away, prickling with awareness. Whatever spell that causes breaks when she sees M’naago realise what the lyrics are and double over in laughter.

[allycryz]

For the WIP ask game: 10. ThanHaurcheEDIT

I’m going to have this two part one-shot series within the main series, probably call it Tales From the Sands or something. It’s showing what Thancred, Haurchefant, and Urianger are up to while everyone else is in Ala Mhigo at the start of Stormblood.

This one delves into Thancred’s state of mind, his grief, his feelings about breaking things off with Nerys, and–though he knows he shouldn’t–he keeps putting a lot of those resentments onto Haurchefant. (Haurchefant is a protector. Haurchefant is charming and genial while Thancred can’t connect to that part of himself right now. Haurchefant connects to everyone and Thancred feels adrift.)

(This also sets up the Uri x Haurche getting together that is part two of this miniseries. Also laying the foundation for Thancred x Haurche in ShB)

Snippet below!

“I am almost certain you owe me several, but alright. Oh, by the by-” Nedrick pats his pockets and finds a folded piece of paper. “I meant to go over there but since you’re on your way...Tell Haurche I found the mulled wine recipe he asked for.”

Thancred shoves the piece of paper into his pocket, hiding the dip his mood takes. “I’ll let his lordship know.”

“And he’ll probably tell you to drop the titles,” Nedrick says with a shrug. “Your group brings in good people.”

“We’ve had luck. I’ll see you later.” 

He makes his way to the Waking Sands rather than discuss “Haurche” further. It is a short reprieve, knowing what waits for him inside. Thancred will take whatever break he can. Perhaps he might find Urianger alone and conclude his business without that particular confrontation.

Urianger is in a typical setting, seated at a table surrounded by books with a quill in his hand. He bends over a shoot of parchment, scribbling and scratching at something. Atypically: though his hood remains in place, his goggles lay atop a pile of tomes.

Atypical as well, someone else writes beside him. He is clad for warmer weather now: a sleeveless black turtleneck that clings to every line of muscle and reveals edges of his scarred shoulder. Beneath the table Thancred identifies a cropped black sarouel to better let the breeze stir. He looks up when Urianger does, smiling warm and welcome as if they are old friends.

“Thancred,” he says. “You are just in time. We really need a judge to make this work.”

[allycryz]

This is not canon, not yet, a lot of it hinges on other things (a big one is, even though he is not in this scene, where is Haurche during ShB? Is he on the Source? Did he get summoned to the First? If he did, is he in Fort Jobb or infiltrating the Eulmoran Army??)

ANYWAY I wrote this thing because I HAD to, I was just going to write down one piece of dialogue so I wouldn’t forget and then I could not stop, so here it is, I hope all of you are happy

“Far be it from me to meddle…” Emet-Selch materializes beside her, as if picking up a conversation. Which they had certainly not been having. “But my curiosity outweighs my desire to see where ‘the chips do fall’.”

Nerys turns towards him. This time his appearance does not trip her up and she keeps walking beneath the dense forest canopy. “Saying ‘far be it from me to meddle’ does not cancel out any subsequent meddling, you know.”

One corner of his mouth tilts up. “One expects their company to be polite enough not to mention it.”

“What do I know about manners?” She cannot help herself. Something about him quickens the tease in her. Maybe it is the pleased smirk whenever she says something diverting. Maybe she is simply tired of all the misfortune around them and needs levity. “I am but a simple warrior, a weapon of brute strength raised in the woods.”

“Self-deprecation does you no favors, my dear. Even when it is clear you know it all rubbish.” He waves a hand. “You are among the politest of my enemies.”

“Thank you?”

“Mm. I can be generous.” He lifts his shoulders in a dramatic shrug. “Now, about my query. Tell me...which suitor do you think will win out?”

That does make her stumble. “Beg pardon?”

“Well you clearly carry a torch for both Masters Waters and Matoya,” Emet says, as casually as one discusses the weather. “I get the impression he was your lover at one time. I’m afraid the outline I have of your activities before the Exarch summoned you does not include the gritty details. As for her, only the Hrothgar moons after her more.”

Nerys opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “You truly have been watching, haven’t you?”

“Mortals are not so difficult to read, once you have practice. And your eyes…” He catches her chin, directing his gaze into hers. “They are terribly expressive, once you know what to look for.”

He wants a reaction. She puts her hands on her hips, lifting an eyebrow. Waiting for him to continue. As if his thumb isn’t stroking over her jaw, gentle as a lover.

“Now, I am not sure you know how many carry a torch for you and I shan’t spoil it by telling you. But it does make things interesting. Not to mention this Lord Haurchefant your group often mentions. Shall you abandon your noble suitor for a rogue posing as a knight? A scholar of great and terrible power? Will one of the others declare themselves and win the hero’s heart?”

Nerys feels that heart thud painfully against her chest. There is something about the way he shapes his syllables that charges each word, already provoking enough. And the directness of those golden eyes, a shade softer than her own but powerful all the same.

That he has gotten so much of it wrong does not negate how easily he has gotten so much of it right.

Nerys curls her fingers around his wrist and tugs his hand down. He lets her, twisting so he might clasp her wrist in return. 

“Surely one as ancient as you, as easily bored as you,” she says. “Must know there are other options.”

“I don’t think a vow of chastity would suit you. Your eyes run too hot upon your comrades-”

“Lord Haurchefant,” she continues. “Is my lover and my beloved, Were I the marrying kind, his ring would be on my finger. That would not stop either of us from sharing physical and sometimes emotional intimacy with others.”

Emet-Selch says not a word, betrays no emotion. But she has surprised him because he does not veer into leering congratulations or an arrogant dismissal. That same thumb begins to stroke again, over her gauntlet. 

“There are others in the Source with such arrangements. I was delighted to see it a fairly common practice here in the First.” Nerys cannot resist her smirk. “For some, it is about a variety of sexual partners. It is like that for Haurchefant and I, sometimes. Other times, we fall quite madly for someone or someones, in addition to wanting the physical intimacy. So whatever may happen...it is not a matter of winning.”

“Well,” he says, looking at her as if for the first time. Considering. 

“Well,” he says again, with a slow smile. “You are full of surprises, my dear. I thank you for not being as boring as I expected.”

“Accuse me of many things, but never that.” She takes a step back, breaking the link of their hands. “Though I think my expansive heart is not my most interesting aspect.”

“On that, at least, we agree.” His enigmatic smile inflames just the right amount of curiosity in her. She resists best as she can. “Well, that puts to rest one of my little games. No reason to stay and help you...what is it again? Collecting reeds so a girl may make a basket?”

“Yes, that,” she says. “You might give it a try.”

“Oh I am not so starved for stimulation as that.” Purple aether swirls around his ankles. “Call for me when you’re doing something actually worthy of a hero.”

“No need to call,” she says. “Somehow, I think you’ll know.”

He grins as he disappears.

[allycryz]

3 and 20 for both Nerys/Haurchefant and Nerys/Thancred?

Read more because this got lengthy

3. What is your favorite AU/prompt idea/trope for your pairing?

Nerys/Haurchefant:

Okay SO

I am very slowly (as in maybe once every two week at most) adding a little to a one-shot AU where Alphi and Nerys gain admittance to Foundation through the combined patronage of Houses Haillenarte, Fortemps, and Durendaire to plead for help against the Garleans and Ultima. The new Lord of House Fortemps has been unwell for months so they must deal with his brother and Steward, Lord Haurchefant (who has many unsettling rumors swirling about him.)

(I’m not giving anything away because it would be in the Ao3 tags: he’s a vampire. The twist is that he is a vampire.)

And that has been very fun to write

Nerys/Thancred:

I am still not tired of the trope where Thancred is extremely handsome and Nerys does not know what to do about it

Also I bet a James Bond/Spy AU with them would be HELLA fun or urban fantasy where he is a Fae King and she some type of paranormally gifted bounty hunter.

20. What made you decide to ship them?

Nerys/Haurchefant:

When I first met Haurchefant, it was definitely an “oh he’s cute” feeling. Because oh he is cute. I really admired him doing what he can to save Francel and coming to your aid as much as possible.

And then every time he sees you he is so happy and how can you not melt? In a world where everyone is asking Nerys for favors and errands and to go to the next battle, he is there just making sure she is okay. When Aymeric related that Haurche had to be held back from joining Nerys against “Iceheart”, that was it.

(This is also when I have Nerys realising she’s in love with him.) 

It keeps on in this vein. He clearly loves her the whole time and while believing her capable of anything, is also ready to help at any moment. 

Having someone love her without reservation is something she needed at that moment. She in turn sees the way he will put others first and work to try to head that off. It is a very good trait to have until it is not and she wants him to be happy too.

Nerys/Thancred:

I met Thancred and I shipped it

Okay but actually: it did start out as “well I love him because I am WEAK for a handsome, flirty rogue so I ship them” but as I’ve built Nerys out, it’s become more about how they are very much kindred spirits with different approaches.

They both will downplay their hurts but where he uses humor and self-deprecation, she is more apt to bury it. They both take a lot on their shoulders. They both feel wired in the same way romantically/sexually but he needs to learn how to be honest to his partners. She has always been honest about what she wants, but needs to learn to be more confident about going for what she wants.

Also I’m really enjoying (read: suffering over) the way the MSQ keeps pulling them apart and how they have to find their way back to each other. They hook up for the first time and then doesn’t really see him again until it’s revealed he is possessed. (When you see him in The Waking Sands he just says he has a lot on his mind and can’t talk right now).

They start seeing each other during the Astral Era and end up having a fight about how he wasn’t honest with his other paramours (That one scene in the Rising Stones. The fic where it happens needs editing. The two Miqo’te don’t seem as stunned so in my version, they knew. But also Thancred told one of them because he found out they are a couple who have a similar arrangement/and the one he told had figured it out pretty much before he said anything). They agree to have a long talk after the banquet and...well

When you have the mission in the Saltery, Thancred seems to be in a much better place. So I was thinking “ah, this is where they reconcile” and then Exarch Who Is Definitely G’raha Even Though He Said He Wasn’t happened. So I am interested to see where the story goes and how I can work their story into it. Their story has become this epic of “please let these two have a soft time to talk and figure things out”