Chapter Text
The sun shines brilliantly, bringing out the bright, pink color of the flowers adorning all of Il Mheg. The Warrior of Darkness appreciates the blue skies replacing the eerily bright white ones it wore before, feet crunching on the dirt road as she makes her way to the humble cottage in the distance.
The wooden doors creak as she pushes them open. Stepping into the study, she notices the once neat and proper room littered with tomes scattered everywhere—on the floor, the tables, some of them having tipped over from being in too empty of spaces on the bookshelf. She thanks the Twelve she’s not a bookworm.
“Ah, Warrior.”
The tall elezen steps down from the staircase leading to the loft, face obstructed by the tower of books in his lanky arms. She’s surprised he makes it down without tripping over himself, as humorous as that would be.
“Pray, pay no mind to the disarray of mine quarters. I gather the Exarch hath told thee of our predicament?”
A book teetering at the edge of a table catches her eye. “No, he hasn’t told me, but I’m guessing it has to do with whatever is going on in here.”
Urianger places the pile of books on the table beside her, turning his attention back to the Warrior.
“Thou art correct. As I hath been focusing mine efforts upon aiding the Exarch with research to bring our comrades back to the Source, it came to be, I realize, ill wise to pursue with this study’s current…” he gestures around them. “…organization. Prithee, I would request thine assistance in quelling this chaos.”
She takes another observation of the room, the books feeling as if they’ll grow in number if she looks any longer. She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs.
Why am I always stuck with cleaning duties…
“Alright, where should I start?”
“That yonder bookshelf should suffice.” He points to one a few yalms away from them. Fortunately, it’s not nearly as messy as some of the other places he could have chosen, but it will take some work to get through, nonetheless. She gives him a curt nod. “Will do.”
She walks over to the bookshelf and begins cleaning though it, organizing the heavier-than-expected books into alphabetical order.
Some were basic textbooks on aetherical research, others were more archaic-looking tomes, the covers with text she was entirely unfamiliar with and nearly falling apart were it not for the worn leather binding it. She sighs, though not because of the heavy load of them she has to go through…
Her mind finds itself wandering back to that strange dream she had when she got knocked unconscious the other day. She couldn’t stop thinking about the joy she felt when dancing with the Exarch, or the way he looked at her that night; from bearing a teasing glimmer at the buffet table when he poked fun at her, to when those red, slitted eyes intensely bore into hers as he begged for her hand in marriage. She remembers running from him, desperate to hide herself before the clock struck twelve so he wouldn’t see her in such a pathetic state; then stopping herself at the Dossal Gate’s doors.
Why the hells am I doing this? Who cares if he sees me in rags, that wouldn’t make a difference to the G’raha Tia I know.
—and never making it back to him.
Sure, it was all a dream, but these newfound fluttering feelings in her chest wouldn’t subside, even as she brushed them off and ate together with the Exarch when she woke. He’s back to his normal self, viewing her the same as always—a hero and friend he looks up to, not anything more than that. But for a reason she couldn’t understand…that bothered her.
“Pray, what ails thee, friend?”
Urianger’s voice snaps her out of her trance. She turns to him with ears perked up, noticing that he’s abandoned the pile of tomes on his desk and has made his way to her spot across the room, raising his eyebrows in concern. She hesitates before answering.
“It’s nothing.”
“Art thou certain?”
She pauses, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Yeah, I’m….fine.”
“Thine act doth be nary so convincing, Warrior of Darkness. If thou wouldst allow me venture to guess, the source of thine dismay lies with the Exarch, does it not?”
She gasps, her own response leading her to bring a hand to her forehead and groan.
“E’er thy recovery from thine injuries, thou hast not been found lingering long in his presence.”
“I have not been avoiding him!”
She suddenly remembers coming into the Ocular earlier that morning to receive the Exarch’s request for her to help Urianger, only to sprint out before he could explain further.
“Hm… Well, be that as it may…”
He reaches for the bookshelf behind her, searching its contents before pulling out a smaller book within the mess. He hands it to her, watching as she brings it up to her face to read the cover.
“‘The Art of Courting, a guide for those who doth desire the hand of another’— Urianger, the hells is this garbage?” She shoves the book back into his hands before crossing her arms in an irritated fashion.
“Many times, I hath read that grimoire in regard to Moenbryda. Pray, may it’s bountiful volumes aid thee as well.”
“I don’t need guidance on courting! The hells do you think I am?! Besides, I don’t—see him that way…”
“Ah..” he lifts his head up to the ceiling. “ ‘ere my yonder years with the Scions, I too denied mine own feelings, much as thou hast done so vehemently. Alas, after much research, the truth hast revealed itself to me, and I hath finally accepted thus, and so do I curse mine naïveté that I hath not acted whilst I yet remained privy…”
She hears the tinge of sadness trailing at the end of his voice, spurring a memory of his state right after the Scions gave him the news of Moenbryda’s fate. She’ll never forget the way his expression warped into that of despair, not understanding his grief at the time until much, much later—when she came to feel it herself.
Urianger looks down again, turning his attention back to the present and the Keeper in front of him.
“Pray, do not allow thy pride to steal from thee such a blessed opportunity, should it escape thee for thine own—”
She blurts a question that popped in her mind.
“What… should I do, then?” She bits her lip in frustration, regretting her own foolishness.
“Lay bare thine feelings, allow not for thy fear to hold thy tongue, ‘ere you—“
“Have you finally told our Warrior to stop acting like a timid schoolgirl, Urianger?”
The gunbreaker descends from the stairs, smirking at the two.
“Thancred, I didn’t know you—wait, how much did you hear?”
“All of it, of course.” He puts his hand to his chest, staring out in a mock reminiscent expression. “Ah, love, how it undoes us so…”
She scoffs, nails digging into her arms as she grips herself tighter. She turns her head away from the two as a vain attempt to hide the creeping blush on her face.
“This isn’t…love...”
“Really now, who’s the one who’s been gawking at the man like a fresh cooked ham every time he’s in our presence?”
“I do not—“ he interrupts her by continuing.
“—Or how about when we reached Amaurot to rescue him from the Ascian, and you searched that gods forsaken city for bells longer than any of us? Never in the time I’ve known you have I seen you so determined, and you’ve ended wars and freed two bloody nations…Now, what was it that you yelled at the Ascian when we finally found him, again? ‘Oh pray give me back my Exarch, you horrid, shite-guzzling, son of a—‘“
“You say another bloody word and I’m slapping that shite-eating grin right off your bloody face.”
He laughs in response to her empty threat, his smirk growing even wider when he notes how red her face has gotten.
“Come now, Warrior of Darkness, there’s no need for the hostility. I’m only dutifully relaying the information I’ve gathered…”
“And pray, what matter of information should that be, that you are all quite fervently discussing?”
The small elezen strides into the room through the front doors, his eyes wide in innocent curiosity.
“Ah good, Alphinaud will definitely like to take some part in this…”
“Don’t you dare—“
Thancred wraps a teasing arm around the smallest of the four of them.
“My good friend, Alphinaud…pray, help our dear Warrior find love by sharing with us the tales of some of your many romantic exploits back at the Studium, would you?”
“My w-what?”
“Thou must have acquired the most experience of us all. Prithee, aid us in our attempt to help our dear friend in her ventures with the Crystal Exarch.”
“Wait, the Exarch!? Whatever do you mean?!”
“Surely you must have noticed the Warrior’s change in demeanor by now, ever since the Exarch revealed his true identity and we brought him back to us, I mean.”
“What? I-I have noticed naught but their close companionship! If anything…they seem… closer mayhap?”
“That-a boy.” Thancred gives him a hard pat on his back before freeing the now-tomato-red-and-fuming elezen from his grip.
“Any road, as much as I would love to sit here and discuss our Warrior’s love troubles further…”
He takes a moment to stretch out his arms before continuing.
“Ryne hasn’t come back in several bells, so I’ll be getting to checking up on her.”
He gives a short wave to the three of them before heading out the study. As he reaches the doors, he pauses.
“Oh, and one more thing—my advice would be to at least take the boy to dinner first before taking him to bed.”
“Thancred!”
He doesn’t look back at the scene of Alphinaud, now even deeper red and bumbling like a fool, and the Warrior, having to be held back by Urianger as she yells various colorful threats and profanities at him. He quietly chuckles at the ruckus before continuing on his way out.