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Once you become accustomed to living with the lord commander at Borel manor, there was one thing that you had come to (resentfully) accept about his daily schedule. That is, the unfortunate nature in which he has to rise with the sun in order to attend to his duties to Ishgard. You've tried to get him to stay just a bell later, to pull him in to the sweet temptation of bed and the safety of your arms, but that could only work so many times. Eventually, it becomes a routine for you to wake up to the sounds of his shuffling as he prepares to begin his day and the cold emptiness on the mattress beside you while you watch in bitter acceptance.
Whenever Aymeric would finish dressing, he would always see your sulking face against the pillows as you don't bother to hide your pout. Or, he would find you crawled up to the foot of the bed covered in sheets, knowing that underneath that thin fabric you are no better dressed than a babe that had just been brought into this world, trying to seductively lure him back in. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. No matter how many mornings he awakens with you at his side, it always warms his cheeks and heart because, oh, how privileged and honored is he for being the one you have chosen above all else.
As the sun breaks through the horizon, you find yourself dressed enough that the servants of the manor wouldn't gossip about any scandalous appearances because, Twelve forfend, that the bare skin of even an ankle or the nape of your neck is enough for the Fury to smite you where you stand while in the city proper. You break your fast as he does and while it's not of your love's creations, you enjoy it all the same. Your favorite meal and drink, Aymeric's servants have committed to memory. They are loyal to Viscount Borel and, if you were to be betrothed to him in the future, it would be wise to begin accustoming themselves to your mannerisms.
You ask him of his daily agenda and Aymeric sighs in exasperation as he recounts how the discussion of a political treatise has yet to come to a compromise amongst the House of Lords and House of Commons. He hopes that it would be resolved soon lest he passes from old age and you simply laugh.
Aymeric inquires as to where your adventures take you this day. You ponder on the thought and explain that you were thinking of going to the Diadem to procure materials needed to create some collectibles needed for the restoration of the Firmament. You describe how excited you are at the sight of the reconstruction beginning in earnest, complimenting the eldest Haillenarte son for taking such an active role in the effort.
"I should have known," Aymeric said as he chuckled goodnaturedly. "I had received reports from Lord Francel to the status of the Firmament. I was astounded to the swift manner the project was being completed...'tis of little wonder knowing they have you supporting them."
You feel heat rising in your cheeks as you smile sheepishly in return. Of course you were going to help in the restoration efforts; Ishgard is your home! Not only that, but you were participating in the hopes that he would praise you for your help. All you want is to see him smile, to help him actualize his dream of bringing Ishgard a standard above its former glory. To bring this nation to the state where children - hopefully including yours - would be able to run around freely without any worries or fears. (However, you dare not say that you were also collecting enough scrips so you can exchange it for a blown up portrait of him to hang on your wall.)
When you both finish your meals, the bell tolls to indicate the coming hour. You feel yourself sigh with dread, not wanting to part with him for even a second. Just as the world doesn't wait for you when you fulfill your duties as the Warrior of Light, Ishgard's problems will mount if he doesn't attend to them. If only the other lords and ladies were as capable.
You follow Aymeric as he makes his way to the door, wrapping the small blanket around your shoulders as you could already feel the biting cold of the winds on the other side. You watch the movement of his broad shoulders and the way his cape curtains down his back as he puts on his sollerets, his entire attire a heavenly sapphire, precious gold and burnt ash that complimented him well. While it amused you to see him in casual clothing, nothing can beat his signature 'lord commander' look.
As he does so, you retrieve Naegling from the weapons rack near the wall. You've always admired the hue of the blade to match his outfit and the day he explained to you that it was an heirloom passed down the Borel line, it made the weapon just as precious to you as it did to him. When he turns to you, it is with a smile as his gaze immediately locks onto your eyes, a pair of icy crystals that you can drown in for the rest of your life.
"I will be going now, my love," he says to you as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.
You smile and ask, "Aren't you forgetting something?"
Aymeric blinks, pondering on the thought, before he inclines his head downwards. Taking you gently by the chin to lift your head up, he lines his lips with yours and softness pressed towards it in a gentle kiss. Your figure went stiff for but a moment before you sighed against his ministrations and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue through the opening you had unconsciously provided. It was a short dance, but none the less heated and you felt your mind going blank - only tethered down by the secure grip he had of an arm around your waist.
When the kiss is broken, both of you are panting and the color of his face matches your own. His irises seemed to twinkle like the stars and, gods, did you just want to bring him back to his bedchambers. As you both caught your breaths, you stood in silence, enjoying the closeness of each other and basking in thousands of words unspoken. Besides, who needs words when love is to be felt?
Then, you wet your lips and gulp, urging strength back to your muscles.
"I meant this," you murmured in slight reproach.
Aymeric glances down towards Naegling being held in your hands and his smile becomes all the more affectionate. His fingers brush against yours - on purpose, perhaps - as he takes his weapon from you to strap to his side.
"Thank you, my love," he answers as he leans in to give you another quick kiss. "I will return by the dinner bell."
When Aymeric turns to leave, you smile and wave towards him. It wasn't until the front door closed and you were alone in the hallway that your knees gave way and you scream into the palms of your hands.
"Of all the sneaky-! Aymeric!!!"
Your shouts startled the servants and a couple of them approached you quickly with concern.
On the other side of the door, Aymeric had a hand loosely pressed against his mouth as he stifled a laugh.