Chapter Text
The cottage was quiet, neither of the three men inside of it willing to speak up as Estinien prepared a pot of chamomile tea and poured each of them a cup. Every little sound seemed to echo off the walls, and Estinien's skin crawled from the palpable air that hung between the three of them. He did not know whether to be relieved or discomfited anew when, after a few sips of tea, Haurchefant’s shock appeared to subside and words began to pour in a font from his lips.
“My dear Aymeric, praise Halone that you yet live. I was nearly lost to grief upon hearing the news that you had perished in the maw of a dragon. However did you manage to escape it?" Haurchefant leaned forward on his elbows, staring at Aymeric with wide eyes.
In turn, Aymeric's gaze grew distant. As Estinien well knew through the time they had spent together, two moons had not been nearly long enough to ease the pain of that fateful battle. "'Twas the Fury's grace that delivered me in the end. Though I lived through the battle my injuries were most grievous, and if Estinien had not come across me after I collapsed in his fields and tended to me so marvelously, I would yet have perished."
Haurchefant turned to Aymeric, a genuine smile on his lips. "Then my eternal gratitude is with you, Master Varlineau. 'Tis an incalculable service you have done for all of Ishgard in saving the life of one of its best men."
"S'only what anyone would've done," Estinien mumbled, the tips of his ears burning with self-consciousness.
Mercifully, Haurchefant did not press the issue further, and turned back to Aymeric while drinking deep of his tea. "I find myself wondering how I will deliver the news to the Viscomte and Viscomtesse. They have been most distraught these past moons, thinking you lost, Aymeric. House Fortemps has done all possible to reach out, of course, but…"
Aymeric cut him off with a raised hand, his lovely features twisted in a frown that made Estinien's heart ache. “Peace, Haurchefant. I assure you, ‘twas not my intention to cause my parents further grief. There has simply been no opportunity to contact Ishgard, as its merchants have little care for villages such as this. But rest assured I have been well taken care of."
Haurchefant nodded, the lines in his brow smoothing out, but his words had stuck in Estinien's mind, and he shifted in his chair with a sudden discomfort. "Viscomte? Your parents are nobility?"
Aymeric looked at him, eyes widening a fraction before they slid away, his frown deepening. “Yes. A minor house only, but… yes."
Estinien bit his lip. Aymeric's adopted parentage changed nothing about their relationship, he knew full well, yet he could not understand why Aymeric had felt the need to keep such a thing from him, and it stung. "Y'never told me about such a thing…"
To his credit, when Aymeric met his eyes once more, he appeared suitably remorseful for his error. "Mine apologies, Estinien. I did not intend to keep secrets from you. When I awoke here in Ferndale, you and your family treated me the same as any other. I only wished for you not to think of me as some spoiled lordling and withdraw the warmth that had so gladdened my heart." He looked away, a troubled frown on his lips. "But what I have told you of my status remains the truth. Noble adoptive parents or no, my true parents still mark me in the eyes of most everyone save my dear friend here, who happens to be in a similar predicament."
Estinien shook his head. "Seven hells with that, Aymeric. Your sire doesn't matter to me, you know that. Your true parents are worried sick for you in Ishgard, right, Ser Haurchefant?"
Haurchefant blinked at him for a moment before a wide grin broke out over his face. “Indeed, you are correct, my friend! Forgive me my worries, Ser Aymeric. Though I may struggle to find my words, I am certain your parents will react with nothing but joy and relief at the news, as I did."
Silence fell once more as the three of them finished their cups of tea, though the tension had largely gone out from the air. Estinien could not find it within him to be upset with Aymeric for what he had not told him, especially in the face of the distant expression on Aymeric’s face as he drank while deep in thought. Nobility or not, the facts of their respective situations remained the same. Estinien could only hope that Aymeric’s parents were not expecting an heir.
Aymeric spoke once again after the teacups had been put away. "I hope you will not hold it against me that I cannot accompany you to Ishgard when you leave today. Though my injuries are no longer dire, I wish not to risk a long journey on foot, And, well…" He trailed off, a faint color rising to his cheeks.
"You are not quite ready to leave your lover behind, hmm?"
Estinien turned at the same moment as Aymeric to look at Haurchefant, the shock of what he had said nearly stopping his heart, but the other young man only laughed. "Oh, do not look at me so. Anyone can see there is only one bed made up in your charming home, Master Varlineau. Not to mention the look in your eyes whenever he speaks. I cannot wait to hear the story of how exciting these moons have been!" He shook his head. "But forgive my teasing. Truly, it fills me with joy to see our dear friend receive the love he has always deserved."
"I am glad you understand," Aymeric said, though a light blush lingered on his cheeks. "Though if you would not mind, I would like to write a letter informing my parents of the situation. Will you be so kind as to deliver it for me?"
Haurchefant nodded, smiling warmly. "I would be more than happy to, my friend. Now, Master Varlineau, might we take care of business while he composes his letter?"
Haurchefant left town as the sun sank towards the horizon, his new chocobo poults and Aymeric's letter to his parents in tow. Estinien carried out the rest of his chores as normally as he could manage, and the two of them ate dinner in silence.
As Estinien finished tending to the fire afterwards, Aymeric sat heavily upon the bed, his frown etched more deeply upon his brow than Estinien had ever seen when he turned to face his lover.
“I suppose the time has come,” he said. “My parents will no doubt set out as soon as they lay eyes upon that letter.” He let out a long sigh.
“Aymeric,” Estinien said, his voice near a whisper. “I know.” He crossed the few short steps to his bed, sitting next to Aymeric and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. His lover turned at the very moment of contact, burying his face in the crook of Estinien's neck.
They held each other for a while, until Estinien's arm began to feel sore, but they were each loath to let go. If this was one of the last memories they would be able to share in one another's presence for a while, Estinien did not want to waste a single moment of it.
The sight of Aymeric in such a state hurt his heart, but as always, he struggled to find the right words for the situation. No mere words could change the reality of their two lives, and silence at least seemed better than insincere platitudes. But as the silence stretched on, it seemed to settle too heavily overtop of them, becoming suffocating. The cottage, which had always seemed to accommodate the both of them perfectly, suddenly felt cramped and stifling.
"It's cold out, but some fresh air might be nice," Estinien ventured. "We can take some blankets… watch the stars come out for a little while 'til we get too cold."
Aymeric lifted his head from Estinien's shoulder slowly, nodding. "Yes… that sounds lovely. The stars are quite beautiful out here in the countryside."
They reluctantly let one another go to pull on overcoats and hats, gathering their blankets and venturing outside. It was just as cold as Estinien had expected, though the fading glow of the sunset lingered in the sky. The two of them huddled as close together as they could manage and wrapped themselves in the blankets, creating an enclave of warmth amidst the still evening.
Estinien was the first to speak for once, as the first faint stars began to appear. "So… your parents. Y'never told me about them."
Aymeric let out a long breath. "I do hope you can forgive me. I am ashamed of my deception, though I did not intend it as such."
Estinien's heart squeezed tight at the sadness on his lover's face, and he shook his head emphatically. "Didn't mean that. I get why you didn't say it. It's just, you've met my family, but I don't know a thing about yours. What're they like?"
Aymeric's eyes widened for a moment before he smiled, full of warmth and fondness. "I am lucky to have been raised by them. Though they were already advanced in years by the time of my birth, they spared no effort when it came to my upbringing. I'm sure their own standing amongst the nobility suffered in the process, but they never held such things in great importance."
"All this shite about standing makes no bloody sense to me," said Estinien, too comfortable to want to bother mincing his words. "But it's good your parents didn't let it get to them. S'what anyone who cares about their kids should do."
"Mmm. You are lucky to be free of such social trappings here. Ishgard has many such faults, and yet, I cannot ignore the love I still hold for her. I want naught but the best for her citizens, regardless of how they may have wronged me in the past."
Another long silence passed as they leaned against one another and watched the stars. "Tell me more about what you’ll do when you’re home. About… your dreams for Ishgard," Estinien murmured at last, when his desire to hear his lover's voice again had grown too strong to ignore.
Aymeric made a questioning hum, shifting another ilm closer to press their legs together under the blanket. "What else would you have me explain to you?"
It was not an unexpected question. Over the long days they had spent together in Estinien’s fields, Aymeric had explained to a great extent how he planned to rise through the ranks of the Temple Knights and reform the organization at its head. But, Estinien realized in that moment, he needed to know more. Needed more reassurance to hold onto in the coming lonely days, that the heartache he endured would be worth it for the heights to which his lover would rise.
"I know you're aimin' for commander of the knights," Estinien said. "But what if y'were leader of all of Ishgard? What would you do then?"
"Leader of Ishgard? Do you mean if I were appointed archbishop? Now that is a flight of fancy, indeed." Aymeric’s eyes sparkled with amusement, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Nay, gods. You, a priest?" Estinien let out a short bark of a laugh. "Nay, I meant… if there was no archbishop. If the leader could just be anyone. What would you do?"
"Hmm. The entire structure of government would needs be changed quite drastically," Aymeric mused. "I suppose the first order would be to end the sole power of the nobility. Commoners would be appointed to some legislative body. Did you know that a century ago in Hingashi, a treatise for the structure of just such a body was published in the form of a satirical play to evade censors? The author was…"
Estinien let him go on as the sky deepened and more stars glimmered to life, leaning against his lover and wrapping an arm around his waist inside of their cocoon of blankets. Aymeric spoke about the many books of law and government he had read, of how much he wished to throw open Ishgard’s gates to people from the furthest reaches of the continent to bring new ideas to the city. He spoke of a shining future of justice and equality, where there would no longer be a division between nobility and commoner, where the war would cease and the goddess’s teachings would be used to uplift rather than punish.
It was all very admirable, and Estinien did his best to listen at the beginning, but as the sky darkened and the air around them grew all the colder, the lyrical tones made his eyelids grow heavy and he began to simply let the words wash over him. Without realizing what he was doing, he found himself leaning against Aymeric’s shoulder, eyes sliding shut after a few moments.
He knew not when Aymeric went silent at last, only coming back to awareness when he was nudged upwards and warm lips pressed against his cheek. “My dear, if you are ready to sleep, we must needs return indoors,” he murmured, his voice soft without a single hint of annoyance.
Estinien made a low, wordless noise in his throat, his lips and tongue just as heavy as the rest of his body, only capable of leaning further into the warm body of his lover. He felt Aymeric's laugh just as much as he heard it, a soft chuckle that gently shook his body as he was gently shifted around.
"Well, if you wish not to rouse yourself, there is nothing else to be done, I suppose," Aymeric said. Estinien had barely processed the words before a feeling of weightlessness overtook him. Had Aymeric begun to carry him? Estinien could only vaguely wonder at it, his eyelids far too heavy to open, the warmth and solidity of Aymeric's shoulder where his head rested quelling any protest he may have had far too effectively.
Estinien knew nothing more of what happened, but when he awoke in his own bed the next morning with his nose buried in black waves of hair, he could not help but smile.
The fateful morning arrived like any other. Aymeric and Estinien awoke together as the watery sun of late autumn rose, curled into one another's bodies. Estinien tended to the animals while Aymeric prepared their breakfast, and they had nearly finished the eggs and hearty vegetable porridge when a frantic knock accompanied by Hamignant's shouting rattled the front door.
When Estinien opened the door, his brother was panting as if he had run a malm. "'Stinien, there's a fancy carriage comin' into the valley! It's Ser Aym’ric's parents, isn't it? You've gotta come into town!"
The words dropped like lead weights into Estinien's stomach. He wanted to protest, to insist that he was not yet ready for this day to come, but he knew full well there was no sense in saying such things to his brother. Instead he simply nodded, waiting until the boy had run off again before he could bring himself to turn towards his lover once more.
Aymeric smiled, but he made no effort to hide the sadness on his face as he stood from the table, wrapping his cloak about his shoulders. "We had best not keep them waiting, then."
The carriage was only just slowing to a stop by the time they made it to the center of town. Townsfolk were already beginning to gather at the novel sight, some merely peeking from windows or doors while others more brazenly ventured out to observe from a distance. It was quite a fine carriage, only slightly less weathered than those of the wealthiest traders and merchants that passed through the valley.
An emblem was painted on the side in deep blue, the same shade as Aymeric's clothes had been when Estinien had found him. The last vestiges of hope that Hamignant had been mistaken left Estinien's mind for good at the sight of it, and his hands clenched at his sides.
They watched as the driver opened the carriage door and a white-haired, elderly man emerged, holding out an arm for an even more frail-looking woman to follow behind him. She had no sooner passed the doorway than she was looking about frantically, her gaze landing upon Aymeric in an instant.
"Oh, Halone's blessings," the old woman gasped, clutching at her husband's sleeve so tightly her knuckles went white. "Aymeric? You are truly here?"
When Estinien looked to his lover, his brilliant blue eyes glistened with tears. "Mother… Yes, 'tis I, alive and whole. I hope you can forgive me for the worry I have caused." He stepped forward, moving quickly to her side, where he embraced her tightly, cradling her white-haired head against his chest.
"Oh, how wonderful," came a voice from Estinien's shoulder, and he nearly jumped at the sudden appearance of his mother at his side without his noticing. She only smiled in response, giving his shoulder a soothing pat. "Any mother knows just how she feels."
Aymeric's father drew near, catching Estinien's attention. "You must be the shepherd boy. Estinien Varlineau, was it? Hmm, I can tell you're a good lad. Aymeric spoke extensively of you in his letter, you know."
Estinien nodded, frozen, wondering just how much Aymeric had said as the Viscomte gave him a knowing look that sent a hot flush through to the tips of his ears. He had no inkling whatsoever how to speak to nobility, yet the man in front of him was nothing like he had expected. Clad in a richly dyed, yet simple overcoat and hat, and speaking with nothing but respect in his voice, Estinien was beginning to understand how Aymeric had become the thoughtful, grounded man he knew.
His mother, thank the Fury, spoke up to save him from his predicament. "Your son's been a treasure to all of us as well, milord. No finer knight has ever passed through Ferndale, I'm sure of it."
"Full glad am I to hear it, madame. The Borel family shall ever be in Ferndale's debt for the kindness you have shown our dear boy." The Viscomte glanced back towards his wife and son, who were each wiping at damp eyes as they let go of one another. "As much as we would love to stay longer in your lovely village, the Lady de Borel cannot travel overmuch these days. She only wished not to wait a moment longer to see her son, but we hoped to begin our return to Ishgard as soon as possible."
Aymeric looked up at his father's words and nodded. "I understand. I have no effects aside from what I am carrying, but if you will allow me the time, I must needs say my farewells." His parents both smiled in affirmation, and Aymeric closed his eyes but a moment before turning and walking towards the now fully gathered Varlineau family.
Hamignant stepped forward first, doing his best to keep his lip from trembling as he hugged Aymeric around the waist, only to burst into incoherent sobs against his chest.
"Oh, my dear Hamignant," Aymeric murmured, ruffling the young boy's hair with fondness. "My thanks are ever yours for your delightful company while I was convalescing. I shall always remember the wonderful stories you told."
"You won't leave forever, right?" Hamignant sniffled. "You'll be back to visit someday, won't ya? Promise?"
“I do not mean to stay away forever, my friend,” Aymeric reassured him. “And if you ever find yourself making the long journey to Ishgard, you may stay in my home and regale me with all the happenings of Ferndale since my departure.”
Estinien's parents were next. His father, ever inclined to stoicism, simply gave Aymeric a fond pat on the back and a nod, then stepped back for his mother to take his place. Aymeric had hardly opened his mouth to speak before he was being crushed in a tight hug.
"Oh, Aymeric," Biette said. "Thank the Fury you've healed up so well. You have a safe trip home, y'hear?"
Aymeric clasped Biette’s hand in his own when she stepped back at last, catching his breath from the crushing hug before he responded. "Biette, you have been just as much a mother to me as mine own. I have treasured your hospitality and company these moons, and I am certain I shall be craving your stew until the day I manage to return."
"You'd best send word to my son ahead of time when you’re planning on visiting, dear, so I know to prepare some extra for you," Biette said, wiping at her own glistening eyes. "Now here. I couldn't save the burned parts, o'course, but you should have this back."
From her pockets she drew a familiar piece of fabric– the fine blue wool of gambeson Estinien had found Aymeric in on the day they had met. It had been transformed, with painstaking skill, into a pair of mid-length gloves, which she pressed into Aymeric's hands.
Aymeric's eyes went wide with recognition, turning the cloth in his hands before a beautiful smile unfurled on his face. "Thank you, truly, for this and everything more. I fear I owe you and your family a debt I can never hope to repay."
Biette shook her head. "None of that nonsense. Just be sure to come back for a visit, alright? You'll always have a home here in Ferndale."
Aymeric nodded, his eyes going soft in a way that made Estinien's heart ache as he watched. He knew all too well how his mother felt; he was not sure he would ever be able to think of his cottage as only his own again.
When Aymeric came to stand before him, before the thought of protesting or turning away could cross Estinien’s mind, his lover was already leaning in to press their mouths together. It was a chaste kiss, Aymeric's lips warm and dry against his own, yet Estinien still shivered at the feeling of it even as the townsfolk began to whisper around them.
When Aymeric pulled away his lips were curved into a smile, even as his eyes shone with unshed tears. “Thank you, Estinien. For saving my life foremost, but also for allowing me to know the joy of your love. I shall miss you dearly, but the happiness you have brought is sure to warm my heart through the oncoming winter."
“Aymeric…” Estinien chewed on his lip as he searched for his words. Everything he could think of seemed so insufficient for the depth of emotion within him, the way it swelled in his chest and overtook him. “I swear I'll write you a letter whenever the traders come by. And… I'll always be thinkin' of you."
“Ah, yes. While I am fond of writing, I do believe I can do one better than a letter sent with the traders.” Aymeric turned to the Lord de Borel, who was watching the proceedings with a smile on his wizened face. “Father, were you able to obtain what I requested in my letter?”
“Of course, my boy.” He crossed the few paces to stand in front of Estinien, rummaging in the pocket of his coat until he had retrieved a small, polished wooden box, which he placed into Estinien’s hands with a wink and a friendly pat. “Go on now, open it up.”
Estinien did as he said, flipping the latch on the box and easing the lid open. Inside was a dark pad of velvet, upon which sat a large pearl of purest white.
The sight of it made him blink. Was it jewelry? But there was no clasp or chain visible upon its gleaming surface. He looked up, brows furrowing as he met his lover’s eyes.
“‘Tis a linkpearl,” Aymeric said. “I wish not to assume, but have you used one?”
“Nay,” Estinien said, shaking his head. The name sparked memories in his mind’s eye, of traders and goods far too expensive for any in a town like Ferndale to ever dream of buying, if even they had use for such things. He had always put the strange, unnaturally large pearls firmly out of his consideration whenever a merchant carried any amongst their wares, and now Aymeric was giving one to him as a gift.
"Its match is being kept for me in Ishgard, in case of trouble on our journey,” Aymeric explained. “But I shall endeavor to contact you as soon as possible upon our return. All you must needs do is place the pearl in your ear and press your finger to its surface when it chimes, and you will hear my voice as clear as if I were standing next to you.”
Estinien couldn’t speak, the swell of emotion in his chest overtaking him completely. Yes, Aymeric's family was clearly well-off, but to entrust such a princely gift to a farmer such as he, solely for the purpose of keeping in contact with his lover of only a moon… it made hope burst within him. In truth it was too much, but he knew not how to express his gratitude. All he could manage was a shake of his head, closing his eyes to prevent tears from falling as Aymeric's steady arms wrapped around him.
Aymeric's breath was warm against Estinien's ear as they lingered in their embrace, and when he spoke his voice was no higher than a whisper. "Estinien… whatever may happen, know that my heart is yours."
Estinien could not bring himself to care about the prying gaze of his neighbors as he usually would and would happily have hugged Aymeric for an eternity, but his lover was the one to pull away at last. His hands rested on Estinien's waist for a moment as he pressed one last soft kiss to his lips, then he was stepping away and turning towards his parents.
He took his mother's arm, helping her into the carriage as the driver prepared the chocobos to set off again, then turned back toward Estinien for one last long, lingering look before he boarded as well. The door closed with a small creak, the chocobos squawked as they were spurred into movement, and Aymeric was gone.
The others slowly filtered back to their own tasks, the excitement of the morning fading away in moments. Estinien could not move from the spot, his eyes fixed on the sunlight reflected in the window of the carriage, long after it had gone such a distance that Aymeric's face would no longer be visible even if it were pressed to the glass. Yet he was unable to turn away, as if the tether Aymeric had tied thoroughly around his heart was exerting a physical pull in his chest as the distance between them grew.
Biette lingered a few minutes longer, watching the carriage trundle out of sight before patting her son gently on the back. "Come by the house if you need a thing, Esti."
Then she was gone, too, leaving Estinien alone in the road, staring into the horizon where the road curved away from sight, his hair blowing in the wind.
On a frosty night, after most of a sennight had passed, Estinien found himself wandering into the karakul barn. He had done so many a time over the past days, though his flock was healthy and content for the time being. There would be no pressing need for him to sleep there unless one of them fell ill, or when the lambing season came round.
Yet it had become impossible for him to fall asleep in his own bed. No matter how many blankets he piled over himself, his very being ached for the bone-deep warmth he had only known when sharing his bed with his beloved. With the sheep, at the very least, he could hug another living creature to stave off the loneliness that had begun to settle cold in the deepest parts of him.
His mother had visited that morning to bring him a fresh fish Hamignant had caught in the river, and had wisely asked no questions about Aymeric at all, though her tight goodbye hug as she left for the Varlineau house lingered longer than it had before. Estinien appreciated it, though he found himself even more reluctant than usual to voice such things aloud. If he began to speak on the feelings that roiled within him, he feared he would not be able to stop until he had truly humiliated himself.
Estinien wrapped himself in the blanket he had carried from the house, leaning back against one of the sleeping karakul and breathing deep of its familiar woolen scent. He would have a stiff neck the next morning, but it was better than tossing and turning through the night as his heart ached with longing.
He had nearly dozed off when it happened. The pearl, tucked safely in his breast pocket ever since Aymeric had left, began to buzz and chime with an insistent, yet somehow natural sound. It dragged Estinien from the edge of sleep to abrupt, uncomfortable wakefulness immediately, startling him so much that his heart pounded alarmingly in his chest and the karakul let out a dissatisfied snuffle at the jostling.
He stared at the pearl for a long moment as it chimed, his scrambled mind desperately trying to recall how Aymeric had instructed him to use the strange device. Was he meant to put it in his ear, then touch? Or was it the other way around? How would it know it was in his ear and not somewhere else? If it didn't work, how was he meant to figure it out?
After a moment of fumbling, he managed to pull his thoughts together enough to slide the pearl into the hollow of his ear. Rather than the dull sensation of blocked hearing that he had expected, his ear was instead filled with the sound of wind, as if he had stepped into a blizzard without any snow.
Estinien licked his lips that had suddenly gone dry. Was he meant to speak first, or would he truly hear Aymeric's voice as his lover had promised? It had been a scant few days since they had parted, yet the anticipation of speaking with him again had already grown to fill his entire body with levin. Yet what was he even meant to say?
"Estinien? Can you hear my voice, my dear?"
Every thought racing through Estinien's mind disappeared at the sound of Aymeric's words, just as lovely as he had expected them to be. "Aye," he breathed.
"Wonderful," Aymeric said. "I have returned safely to Ishgard, my love, and on the journey my father told me an interesting thing you might wish to hear. His grandfather was a prolific chocobo breeder, you see, and he recalled the name of a prized line the man had spoken of. 'Twas called the Ferndale fleetfoot." His voice was filled with pride, and Estinien could nearly see the crinkle-eyed, sweet smile that was surely upon his lips.
And just like that, the tension in Estinien's chest loosened and faded. Though he knew not when they would be able to close the physical distance between them, he was filled with certainty that there would be no distance between their hearts.
In the quiet town of Ferndale, Estinien Varlineau curled up in his barn with the voice of his distant lover in his ear. The winter had only just arrived in the valley, but it would not last forever. Soon enough the grass would push through the snow and it would be spring, and in just the same way his and Aymeric's time would surely come again.
Everything would be alright.