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Mind in a flurry, Aymeric sat up with a startled gasp. Glancing at his bedside clock through tired eyes, Aymeric realized it was another two bells before dawn. Groaning audibly, he pulled the covers over his messy curls to try and capture a few more precious minutes of rest.
Aymeric had always been a light sleeper, though it was his own thoughts this time that awoke him. His sleep wasn’t haunted by spectres or demons, no, it was a far more mundane fear that roused him from his slumber. A proposal he’d need to discuss later that morning, and a ceremony to attend in the afternoon— not to mention the ever-growing stacks of paperwork needing attending to on his desk.
He supposed there was one spectre that haunted his dreams, but it was more the elusive visage of the one who had captured his heart and run away to the ends of the world with it. Reminding himself of that all too familiar heartache was possibly worse than the headache that thinking of his upcoming day brought.
Rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers, he begged his mind to give him peace until at least the sunrise. A familiar jingle came from the darkness, then a small chirp as To-the jumped into bed with him. He knew then that sleep was unlikely to be in his future any time soon.
She was a sweet cat, at least to Aymeric. Her behavior otherwise left much to be desired, earning her curses and scoldings from the boy’s mother, long ago when both she and Aymeric were small. The mischievous feline heard the phrase ‘to the seven hells with you’ so frequently she had begun to respond to it, and still did all these years later.
Aymeric smiled sweetly as she rubbed up against his arm, the low rumble of her purr soothing his tired mind somewhat. Lifting up one arm, she gladly took his knuckles for herself, nuzzling his hand and scratching her own chin with it as her purr grew louder.
‘How I wish it was you in my bed, my dearest friend—’
Another groan as he interrupted his own thought, throwing his head back on the pillow and covering his face with one arm. It was a foolish desire to have, and one that surely would have been reciprocated by now had he felt the same way in return about Aymeric.
Thoughts turned back to the early days of their friendship when they both served the temple knights— Aymeric was a light sleeper back then, too. Estinien would toss and turn with his nightmares in their shared tent, his expression raw and shaken as he fought back tears upon awakening.
Demons may not have plagued Aymeric’s dreams but they certainly hounded Estinien— one particular demon in the form of an ancient wyrm, to be exact. The power granted by such an entity only raked open old wounds as he was forced to bear witness to the worst moment of his life again and again each night.
When offered words, he’d turn away and snap. When Aymeric instead silently hugged him from behind, he’d be soothed and fall back into slumber. So they’d spend hours like that, Aymeric unable to fall back asleep until he heard the soft, steady breathing of sleep from the other man. Even then he wouldn’t let him go, hugging him close to his chest until he’d wake in the morning to an empty tent, the dragoon already up and dressed by the time dawn rose over Coerthas.
The sudden lack of attention resulted in a cold, wet nose on his arm, then the gentle pawing of extended claws against his skin. Uncovering his face, Aymeric was rewarded with nuzzling on his cheek, To-the purring right in his ear.
He hugged her close, burying his nose in her fur and taking in the familiar, comforting scent. She was an old cat by now, nearly twenty summers by his count, her black fur looking grey and weathered but still she maintained the same energy and affection as she had as a kitten.
Perhaps they were alike, he mused. Ready to lash out at anyone and everyone else with fangs and claws bared, yet when it came to Aymeric they were both affectionate and loyal. The thought made him hide his head further, as if ashamed to even think about it. She could only purr at the sensation, relishing in Aymeric’s face against her soft belly.
When they last saw one another, it had been in the infirmary following the dragoon’s possession. Aymeric was steadfast at his bedside, clutching his hand and biting back tears as he sat vigilant and restless.
He hardly slept then, either. Instead he whispered prayers and muttered confessions of love and devotion through choked sobs. It kept him up to wonder if Estinien had heard his desperate pleas, and if that was why he hadn’t returned. Much like a cat, he frightened easily and was left bristling and wary at the first sign of change.
Estinien seemed a new man when he awoke, no longer bound by the shackles of his vengeance, his grief, or the slow corruption of his aether. Had they been alone together at that moment, Aymeric was sure he would have kissed him.
Perhaps he should have regardless— after all, the boy adored them both and would surely understand the sudden display of affection, and the Warrior of Light had a male lover himself who he was willing to die for. To blame them for why he held himself back was foolish, for it was his own fear of pushing away his dearest friend that caused him to push him away in the end.
His throat grew tight as he felt the tears coming, To-the wriggling out of his arms just when he needed her comfort the most.
Bereft of her and bereft of Estinien, he curled up into himself. Ishgard had changed so much in the last few months, and all he wished for was to share it with his best friend— even if he was just that, a friend.
The needling, tiny feet of his cat began crawling up his leg and onto his side, To-the standing proudly on top of him as she let out a rusty meow. It would seem she was done cuddling but still required his full attention.
Aymeric softly chuckled, as if her ridiculousness shined a light on his own ridiculousness. To cry so much over Estinien, it made him feel like a boy all over again, caught up in foolish fancies as if he didn’t have all of Ishgard resting upon his tired shoulders.
Dawn had not yet risen over Ishgard, yet he pulled himself out of bed at last. Slipping into his slippers, Aymeric took care to not trip over his excited feline friend as he left his bedroom and journeyed downstairs to the kitchen. She weaved between his long legs with every stride, a delicate dance both had grown accustomed to over their many years together.
It was a familiar ritual for them both— To-the used to his light sleeping, waking up early or sometimes in the middle of the night. She could catch up on sleep later while Aymeric attended to his duties as Lord Speaker, but she could only get a warm meal while Aymeric cooked his own.
It was a simple yet hearty breakfast, typical of Ishgard— lean venison diced alongside popotoes and root vegetables, fried in a skillet with a creamy sauce and scrambled eggs. Perhaps a bit heavy for so early in the day, but the harsh winter that now loomed over Ishgard every day of the year made such filling meals a necessity.
Of course, extra portions of meat were cooked for the eager cat, watching with big hazel eyes as it cooled on the counter until it was safe for her to eat. When at last it was set down before her, Aymeric petted her between the ears, their routine complete as he sat down with his own breakfast and freshly brewed tea.
Again he found himself wanting, imagining his old friend seated beside him. The way he would laugh and grin as they talked at the table, Estinien enjoying every bite of Aymeric’s cooking. The fantasy captivated him for longer than he would have liked, rubbing at his eyes before reminding himself to eat before the meal grew cold.
The day dragged on particularly long, Aymeric blaming it on his fatigue and banishing any lingering desires and fancies that floated into his mind.
Not as if anyone could tell that he hadn’t slept enough or that his heart was so heavy. Aymeric carried himself with all his usual grace and poise, his voice smooth and charismatic, and his wit just as sharp as ever. Lucia had taken notice of him brewing an extra pot of tea in the afternoon to combat a headache, but otherwise his facade held fast until at last he could return home and crumple into a heap— allowed to fall apart as simply Aymeric, not the Lord Speaker, Lord Commander, or Viscount Borel.
Hurrying upstairs, he hardly paid any mind to the fact his cat was nowhere to be seen, no doubt sleeping somewhere after a long, lazy day. Shedding the heavy armor and coats he always wore, he was eager to get into the bath and melt away the stresses of the day. Perhaps he’d pour himself a glass of wine while he was at it, or maybe bring the whole bottle with him into the tub.
His environment seemed to suddenly come into focus when a cold chill hit him— of course it was chillier without the Lord Commander’s regalia heating his middle in so many layers, but it shouldn’t have been nearly so cold inside. Glancing at the window, he realized it had been left open.
Aymeric approached it cautiously, slowly closing it and gazing out, as if he expected to see some prowler on the rooftops. He struggled to remember if he had left it open, unable to remember even opening it in the first place.
“Good thing I’m no assassin, else you’d make for an easy mark.”
Aymeric spun around to face the familiar voice, heart pounding from the surprise. Half of him was certain it was a hallucination, a trick of his tired mind on his sorrowful heart.
Yet— there he was, long arms and legs tangled all over themselves in Aymeric’s own bed, the dragoon lazily stroking To-the who purred pleasantly in his lap. She’d taken such a long time to warm up to Estinien, but he was the first person besides Aymeric that the tiny terror had ever shown affection for.
He wondered, perhaps, if she could sense what was in Aymeric’s heart. To know this man was to be trusted, because Aymeric had given up his heart and soul to him even if he wouldn’t lay it bare before him. Cats had a way of picking up on these things— sort of like how she’d always know when he’d stirred from slumber in the middle of the night, even if she was on the other end of the manor.
For all the months he’d spent berating himself for not making a move, Aymeric found himself frozen in place. Estinien was in his bed, and still he couldn’t manage to tell him how he felt, or to rush over and kiss him.
Aymeric de Borel, Lord Speaker of the House of Lords, rendered speechless by a flighty, antisocial dragoon. It would have perhaps been funny if not for how pathetic he felt.
There was a wince of guilt on Estinien’s face, setting aside the needy feline as he stood up. He wore a weathered traveler’s attire, sans the boots which laid haphazardly across the otherwise neat and clean floors. Aymeric only realized he had been staring at Estinien’s feet when he spoke again, eyes darting up to meet the dragoon’s gaze.
“It was wrong of me to leave without a word,” Estinien admitted with a low, raspy voice— it almost sounded as if it was quivering, but surely that was Aymeric’s imagination at work again.
“Would you at least grant me a greeting?”
“Estinien,” he said at last, his stunned expression breaking into a weak smile before pulling the man into an embrace. For good measure he clapped his hand against the dragoon’s back twice through their hug, old habits preventing him even now from showing affection beyond that of friends.
“Forgive me my lack of manners, it has been a very long day,” Aymeric excused himself with a sigh as they pulled away from each other’s embrace, a sort of fond sadness in Aymeric’s sky blue eyes.
“There is naught to forgive,” Estinien shrugged, taking a few steps toward the door.
“We’ve much to catch up on. Should I put on the tea?” Estinien offered, the two men both bounding down the stairs.
Aymeric had begun cooking a simple meal for them both, Estinien watching the kettle intently as Aymeric stole glances toward his flight-prone friend.
“I’m not going anywhere, you need not watch me so closely,” Estinien teased, although the frown Aymeric shot back in return struck him with a pang of guilt.
How he wished he could believe that. How he wished he could let the confessions of his heart spill forth, just like they had while Estinien was laying lifeless in that infirmary bed. Smiling weakly, he turned his attention back to cooking for now.
As they ate, Estinien regaled him with stories of far flung lands, adventures, and fierce battles. The wanderlust that always tugged at Aymeric’s heart weighed heavy on him as he listened, content to simply watch him speak with such passion and energy despite wishing deep inside to join him. He wished too to grab him by the collar and kiss him, but then, that was always something he desired when they spent time alone like this.
“You need not listen to me ramble all night,” Estinien murmured with an apologetic smile, his grey eyes so full of life that they almost looked blue. “How have you been?”
“My work has been comparably dull, I’m afraid,” Aymeric began, “but its impact is immeasurable. Ishgard has been made new, and should you ever wish to call it home again, there would be a place for you in it.”
‘ — At my side,’ he wished to add, but again the words escaped him.
“I didn’t ask about Ishgard, I asked about you,” Estinien clarified.
‘Lonely.’
Aymeric bit his tongue, eyes darting away as he thought of the correct, manufactured response.
“As you know, my work is very important to me, and I—”
Estinien cleared the distance between them, interrupting his words. Of course Estinien could see through his dismissive answer, his sharp gaze piercing through him as he suddenly loomed over Aymeric.
“When last I saw you, you were doubled over my bedside begging the Fury to have mercy upon me. You told me you loved me.”
Aymeric swallowed heavily, at once his fears being realized. Estinien had heard him then, and perhaps that was why he ran. He felt his facade cracking as his lip trembled subtly, his heart feeling as though it may burst from his chest at any moment.
“I do,” he finally managed to say, voice low as he tried to contain his emotions. The fear of losing Estinien was too much for him, but he could not lie to his face or avoid it any longer.
Studying his face for a moment, Aymeric felt as if he might perish where he sat. Estinien’s gaze was always hard to read, and Aymeric’s strength was quickly fading.
Without a word, Estinien pressed his lips to Aymeric’s.
They were softer than he’d expected them to be— perhaps a sign that Estinien had been taking better care of himself than he ever used to. The sensation was more euphoric than anything Aymeric had ever imagined, his anxieties melting away as he embraced Estinien and leaned into his mouth.
Estinien climbed into his lap, a mess of long limbs as they desperately embraced each other. Over a decade of unspoken feelings spilled from them both in a fervent flurry of kisses, broken only to gasp for breath and mutter the other’s name.
When at last they parted, starved for air and eyes heavy with emotions, Estinien placed his hands on either side of his dearest friend’s cheeks.
He was never much for speeches or even small expressions of sentimentality, but he knew without saying it so explicitly it would leave Aymeric to wonder.
“I love you, too,” he confessed, voice just barely above a whisper.
All the tension released from his body after so many months spent in turmoil, a genuine grin spreading across Aymeric’s face for the first time in ages.
Estinien planted a soft kiss on his cheek before he leaned away. Still balancing his tall, lithe body on Aymeric’s lap, he reached for his fork to grab a bite and quickly shove it into his mouth. When their eyes met again Estinien looked as though he were a boy who’d just got caught stealing cookies from the jar, and all Aymeric could manage was to burst into laughter.
“What?” Estinien asked as if he didn’t know how ridiculous he was, mouth still full of food as he spoke.
Little things like that were what made Aymeric so fond of him, kissing him again before sliding the plate closer. He’d gladly let Estinien use him as a seat while he gushed about his cooking— it was nothing short of a dream come true.
Tired as he was, sleep was difficult for Aymeric that night. Even after an evening of laughing, kissing, cuddling, and catching up, all he could think of was falling asleep with Estinien in his arms, only to wake up to an empty bed. How would he even know it was real if that’s how it ended?
His head buried in the other man’s chest, Aymeric could feel the distinct wet warmth of tears just before he drifted off to sleep.
When Aymeric awakened again, it was with a start and still in the dead of night. A proper nightmare, not just the uneasy dreams of a stressful mind, but one that filled him with fear, dread, and sorrow.
It was the day he had loosed the arrow at the possessed Estinien, only in his dream his arrow struck true. The ancient wyrm gave up his body only for Estinien to bleed out in Aymeric’s very arms.
He was shaking and the tears flowed down his cheeks, the room too dark to see. Familiar hands grasped him by the shoulders in an entirely unfamiliar way, pulling him into an embrace. Estinien spoke no words as he held him, simply petting his hair and holding him tightly.
Aymeric hadn’t even realized he’d laid down and fallen asleep again until the first rays of dawn hit his face. Finding Estinien still sleeping beside him filled him with indescribable joy, leaning down to pepper kisses on his cheeks gently.
His affection was met with a lazy arm thrown over him, and a raspy croak of protest. Estinien nuzzled closer to him, murmuring unintelligible words as he hugged him close.
Perhaps he was indeed like a cat, as Aymeric had mused before. Certainly it was a change from the man who barely slept through the night and never slept past dawn, but such a change was welcome if it meant he would finally face his feelings.
Aymeric, too, decided he would play the role of a cat for the day, letting himself settle back into bed. He’d send word to the Congregation later to inform them of his absence, for once indulging himself in being only Aymeric, and to let his tired shoulders rest.