Chapter Text
He finds her sitting at one of the tables overlooking Mor Dhona, head in chin and eyes closed as the breeze shifts her hair in a way that looks almost ethereal. Oh, he has it bad. Red ear twitches upon seeing her, his courage leaving him as he considers simply turning around and bolting, leaving her to her peace that she oh-so deserves after saving not only this world, but countless others. Alas, he is a split second too late with his decision, as when he turns deftly on his heel, determined to quietly slip away and enjoy a day of beating himself up for chickening out yet again, green eyes pop open and spot his retreating form. “G’raha,” Sophiane speaks, in that lilted, accented voice of hers. He swears it’s not Ishgardian, not entirely. Perhaps a dialect from outer Coerthas? “Where do you think you’re going?”
The Miqo’te turns back around to face her, fumbling with his hands nervously. To think he had spent a century hiding his emotions so carefully, and now he was like a kit, ears flicking and tail fwapping about with his feelings. Y’shtola had given him a look when he’d first arrived back on the Source, and he just knew that despite her lack of regular sight, she had a read on every single thought he was thinking. He was only thankful that Sophiane was not as well versed in Miqo’te tells, or else he was sure his secret would have been found out ages before. “Ah, I had meant to grab a bit of lunch before setting out for the Crystal Tower. You seemed very.. at ease, so..” He trails off, looking anywhere but at the Elezen’s fond gaze. “I did not wish to intrude.”
That only gets a laugh out of the blonde, and she leans back in her chair. “You’re never intruding,” she assures, gesturing to the chair next to her. “Well come on, this lovely day is nicer to enjoy with company.” The new angle gives G’raha a nice view of the new blouse she wore, something he’s sure she was only wearing because she was not planning on doing any strenuous activity for the day. As it should be. If anyone approaches Sophiane asking for some favor or other he’d have their head.
So the red-haired man sits beside her, still fidgeting with his hands, running sweaty palms over each other as he still keeps his eyes looking out into the distance rather than at her. “So what really brings you here?”
He hears her voice break through, and now his head snaps to attention, looking directly at her. “Whatever do you mean?” G’raha tries to deflect, face burning and voice not at all convincing to anyone with half an onze of emotional comprehension.
“C’mon, I’ve spent a decade studying the body and mind,” she explains, lifting an arm so she could rest her elbow on the table, leaning her head against her palm in such a way that her body had turned in its chair towards him. “I may not specialize in psychology, but I do know when someone is hiding something, or wants to talk about something serious. So, spill.”
Oh, her gaze is unrelenting now. This was it.He couldn’t rightly back out now, not when she’d noticed his behavior. So he takes a deep breath, looking away from her again. It was somehow easier to speak when he couldn’t see her face, as if he could trick his mind into believing he was speaking to his mirror in practice again. “Well, uhm. I wanted to ask a.. personal question.” Great start, G’raha. Incredible.
Sophiane nods at that. “Alright, go on, then,” she prompts, an eyebrow quirks in curiosity as she waits oh so patiently for him to continue.
“I had. Well. That is to say. I wanted to ask if you were, perhaps, interested in.. getting dinner with me, sometime,” he manages to squeak out, gulping heavily as he was sure she could understand his meaning. Sophiane was many things– dense was not one of them. At least not all the time.
Her silence is deafening, and the only thing he can hear is the rushing of a breeze blowing past his ears, even pinned back as they are. It’s several seconds before he even hears her move, and that itself is subtle. Just a shift, and when he dares to look at her in his periphery, she’s facing away from him now, and that’s enough of an answer for him.
“I-I understand if you’re not interested, please don’t push to accept on my behalf!” The Miqo’te is quick to append, facing her now with hands raised as if to ward off her oncoming words of rejection. Perhaps if he said that now, she’d spare him the pain of actually listening to her say what he had so feared. He had imagined it several times already– her pained voice, careful and measured as she lets him down easily.
That never comes though, as she is just silent, and he can’t see her face now. Her ears are drooping just slightly from their usual perked up position. G’raha had learned that Elezen ears were a bit like his own– expressive, but in a much more subtle and refined way that was difficult to pick up for even other Elezen. He wants to say something to prompt any sort of response from her, anything. He’d take vitriol at this point, but the silence is killing him. He fidgets with his hands again, nervous energy overflowing as he gathers the words in his mouth. “You don’t have to.. make excuses or anything, if that’s what you’re trying to do,” he starts, hoping he can soothe the turmoil she was going through. “I’ll take a simple no.”
That gets a mirthless laugh out of her, to his surprise. It sounds choked, like she’s holding back tears. “It’s not simple,” she finally says, words quiet as she finally turns back to face him. Her eyes aren’t that of a maiden about to cry. They’re.. almost lifeless. He’s never seen Sophiane like that. He wants to fix that, he wants to pinch himself for being the cause. But he’s silent, because it’s obvious that she’s trying to say something important. So he waits, watching her avoid his gaze and stare at a particularly interesting spot on the table.
The silence breaks again. “I do not feel that way for you,” she starts, and that’s as much as he’d expected, but there’s more there. “I.. don’t feel that way about anyone. I.. can’t.” The Elezen reaches up to her own chest, digging beneath her blouse and pulling out a previously hidden necklace. When she lets it land against her chest again, this time atop her clothing, he sees a beautiful blue diamond, chiseled into the shape of a heart, with two small, silver dragons encircling the gem. It’s a work of art, something that leaves him wondering how much it cost to get from the jeweler. The craftsmanship required for that level of detail was extraordinary. “You’ve read all about my life, yes? Something about a memoir from Count Fortemps, detailing the end of the Dragonsong War. Did it mention Ysayle Dangoulain?”
G’raha thinks back to his studies. He’d read that book many times, familiarizing himself with Sophiane’s heroic pursuits with impunity. He does recall many mentions of the illustrious Ysayle, also known as Iceheart. The host of Shiva, traitor to her homeland. She had sacrificed herself to ensure Sophiane and her team had reached Asyz Lla, and that the Garleans had not. So it’s with a nod that he replies. “Of course– she was instrumental in the ending of the war in Ishgard.”
That gets a distracted nod out of Sophiane. “I.. loved her,” she admits, running a hand through her hair and messing the blonde strands up. “I confessed to her, shortly before we met with Hraesvelgr. I knew she couldn’t return my feelings, being Shiva and all..” Her voice shakes a little, tapping her fingers against the wood grain erratically. “She said as much, but she also said that.. if things were different, maybe we could be good for each other.”
The Elezen is quiet after that, but G’raha does not dare to interrupt, hands still in his lap as he listens to each word intently. He considers himself close to the Warrior of Light, but she was ever reticent with her feelings at times. He would not be surprised if Alphinaud and Estinien were the only other ones to know about her harbored feelings for Iceheart, given they were there to witness it in person. So even if it pains her to speak about this, he absorbs each word like gospel, eager to learn more about Sophiane as a person, rather than the warrior.
“When Ysayle learned that she was not Shiva, that.. the Shiva she was harboring was a manifestation of her hopes and dreams.. she was broken but I could not help but selfishly think that maybe, things could work between us,” Sophiane continues after some moments of silence. Her fingers lift again to play with the necklace she bore, now obviously a token of her dedication. “I got this commissioned thinking that, maybe, after everything had settled, I could offer it to her. Offer to help her build a life outside of Shiva. Offer to help her.. be herself.” There’s another mirthless laugh at that. “Even after everything that happened in Ul’dah, I was still clinging to the hope that we’d all make it out alive.”
The Elezen stays silent after that, and G’raha does not push for more from her. She’d spoken enough. “I am so sorry for what you have suffered,” he murmurs, reaching a hand over to squeeze at Sophiane’s, giving a measure of comfort. “I.. do not think she’d want you to live your life like that, though. Bereft of the love you longed to give her.”
That seems to make Sophiane angry, and G’raha suddenly regrets thinking that he’d accept her vitriol. “You think I have not tried, G’raha?” She accuses, eyes fixed on him now, boring into him with an anger and pain that he flinches away from. “That I have not looked at each and every one of the scions and our allies, hoping and praying that I could find it within myself to let my heart open again? That I could feel for another without feeling as though I am betraying Ysayle, even if what we had never had a chance to bloom?” Her hand pulls away roughly, arms crossing across her chest hugging herself close. “I was so close once.. in Doma, with Lyse. I watched as she grew out of her sister’s shadow, taking her grief over Papalymo and weaponizing it into fuel for her new life. I even held her one night, huddled close as I kept her warm in the cool Othard air. Though, even as I felt that familiar bloom of love, it was snuffed by the ever present guilt that I’d be betraying what I felt for Ysayle. That if I dared feel for someone again, they’d get torn from me.”
The blonde calms after that, the grip she holds on her upper arms loosening a degree as she takes a deep breath. “In this, I am broken beyond repair, G’raha,” she murmurs. “For that, I am sorry. Give your heart to someone who will not shrink away from it.” Abruptly, she stands, the chair scraping against stone as it pushes back. She walks away, and she’s gone before G’raha can think of the words to say.
The Miqo’te is left to ponder the Warrior of Light’s words after that. His previous plans for the day forgotten, he returns to the Rising Stones and brushes past Tataru’s worried gaze. Sophiane’s rejection had hurt, but that was not what occupied his mind. He had prepared for that, and understood that the likelihood of his feelings being reciprocated were slim. He hadn’t expected her reasoning, and the thought of her aching so pained him. She had done so much for this and every world, sacrificed and suffered more than anyone. If there was anything she deserved, it was to be able to feel that love again, and not be weighed down by the guilt her dedication to Ysayle had caused. He did not know Iceheart, but he knew she would not wish that upon Sophiane. If only she could hear it from Ysayle herself..
But.. she can. With that epiphany, G’raha darts out of the Rising Stones, once again ignoring Tataru’s concerned words that followed him out the door. He touches the Aetheryte and, with a single goal in mind, sets his teleport to Old Sharlayan.