Chapter Text
Arelle woke with the sun. Colored light shone on his face from the stained window, despite the clouds outside.
The first sound he noticed was crying from his side. He expected to see Aymeric, vaguely remembering he was hurt, but the figure beside him was different entirely.
Emmanellain noticed him awake quickly. His eyes went wide as the saucers in the old summer home and he tackled Arelle into a hug, making him very aware of the aching wound in the middle of his ribs.
“Ow,” Arelle said. Emmanellain backed off with a laugh.
“They told me you may be dying again, but of course, I didn’t believe them. Everyone is always so quick to write you off as gone. You’d think they would’ve learned by now.”
It was hard to tell the movements of the sun above the storm blanketing the city, but it was certainly no longer the middle of the night. “How long was I out?”
“A few days,” Emmanellain responded flippantly. “They said something about you needing to replenish your aether or some such, I didn’t quite grasp what the chirurgen said.”
Days? He’d been asleep for days?
“Aymeric?”
“He’s been taken care of. Still a little shaken up, but that’s a fair response to being tortured on the order of his evil birth father and held captive.”
Arelle blinked. “Father?”
“Oh! You don’t know!” Emmanellain clapped his hands together. “Apparently he was a bastard of the late archbishop, who had assumed the both of you dead years ago. Who would’ve guessed that you would end up somehow in the same small town?”
Arelle had a million questions about that, but none of them were as urgent as some others. “Haurchefant?”
“Wounded, but okay. He’s started talking to our father again now that there’s little to do besides go stir crazy in bed. What luck that the dragoon would take it upon himself to keep Haurchefant in his room before he can go about ruining the hard work of our healers!”
Arelle tilted his head. “Estinien?”
Emmanellain’s eyes lit up. “Right, that was his name! He and Aymeric have been sharing Haurchefant duty, when they’re not practicing together.” Emmanellain stage whispered at him. “Aymeric has been keeping it on the down low, but I know he’s been offered knighthood. I think he was just waiting for you to join us in the land of the living.”
He smiled. This was all his friend had ever wanted. Arelle wished he’d just gotten to it instead of waiting, but he couldn’t deny that he was excited to see the knighting himself. If he was stationed in the city, maybe they wouldn’t need to be parted after all. Maybe they could even live in that house Arelle had heard so much about.
There was one more question on the tip of his tongue, but Arelle wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to ask it. What were the chances he would still be here after days of waiting?
“Ah!” Emmanellain almost shouted as a thought came to mind, the volume making Arelle jump. “Right! Your beau is moping across the street at his house. I told him he could wait here, but he had gotten it into his head that you wouldn’t want to see him, and I said that was ridiculous, and he said I didn’t understand, which was silly, but I decided to at least wait until I could ensure-”
“Yes,” Arelle said, only partially to stop Emmanellain from rambling. “I- yes.”
“Excellent!”
Emmanellain jumped to his feet. When his hand touched the doorknob, he turned back. “Welcome home, brother.”
Arelle felt tears at the edges of his eyes. Emmanellain left before he could see them.
Some time (and a very awkward conversation with his father) had passed before Steph made himself known. He knocked, as if Arelle could get to the door with the state he was in. Steph entered his room with his head bowed. He looked tired, but more cleaned up than he ever had when they were traveling together, wearing much finer clothes. Did he take the money after all?
“Sit.”
Steph sat on the chair by the bed instead of the bed itself, but Arelle supposed that would have to do. “Where-” he started, at the same time Steph blurted out, “I have to-”
After a moment of silence, Steph cleared his throat. “You first, my lord.”
“Where are you going next?”
Steph looked shocked by the question. “What?”
“You wanted to leave, right?”
“Oh.” Steph folded his hands in his lap. “I did at one point. I- I…”
Arelle leaned further into the mattress. “You?”
“I have to apologize. It was a con at the beginning. I just wanted to get the money and go anywhere but here to start my life far from my family, for some reason that I can’t even remember now. You changed my mind. Gods, I missed them, and I have that back now because of you.” Steph’s foot started tapping. Arelle let it be. “But there’s no way I’m leaving you now, not unless you tell me to, in which case I am gone, money or not.”
“...Your family?”
“Oh, did I not- right.” Steph squared his shoulders. “Allow me to introduce myself again. Stephanivien de Haillenarte, at your service.”
Several things clicked. He connected the Steph he had met to Stephanivien, his neighbor, his friend, his ally in the world to come.
“You said you didn’t miss your home.”
“I said I didn’t miss my house. I missed my siblings more than I even knew.”
“Arelle Myste,” he replied, after a minute. “Fortemps. Whatever works.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Arelle held out his hand and waited for Steph to crawl onto the bed, to lay over the blankets yet share the same pillow. Steph did that and more. A warm arm wrapped around his side to hold his back, the other slipped under his neck to act as another cushion to rest on.
“I meant everything I said.” When Arelle raised an eyebrow, Steph corrected himself quickly. “That is, everything except the whole conversation before you met your father. And when I was lying to you for weeks before that. But I meant what I said on the top of the Vault.”
“Remind me?”
“I loved Artoirel. I love you, Arelle. No matter who you are, who you become, I will love you again.” At the end, Steph tacked on a, “and I promise to make up for all the mistakes I’ve made. If you are willing, you have me.”
Arelle had no idea how Steph intended to do that, or how he would make it up to Aymeric and Haurchefant and his father, but Arelle didn’t quite care at that moment. He leaned their foreheads together and basked in the warmth.
“I don’t deserve you,” Steph whispered against his lips.
“Kiss me.”
Steph did just that. It was slower this time. Gentler. Arelle could feel himself falling asleep, but for the first time in a while, he found himself at peace. He finally felt at home. Where he belonged.
When he’s well enough, he will greet a new Ishgard with family old and new at his side, but for now, Arelle let himself simply be loved.