Chapter Text
“He’s not coming.” the young Elezen sighs, halting his pacing to stare at the longcase clock that stands tall amidst decor: it’s four minutes past the hour they had settled on, and with each tick of its handles his hopes dwindle further.
“He will.” Ameliance reassures him, watching as her son begins his back-and-forth strides anew.
“He won’t.”
The young lord rubs at his brow, considering how much of a terrible idea all of this had been. Inviting Estinien, who clearly wasn’t an enthusiast of the premise of socialising for the mere sake of enjoying a conversation, to come meet his mother. And precisely today, of all days he could’ve chosen. Who would want to spend their last evening before a suicide mission that would take them off planet chitchatting with a co-worker and their progenitor?
He’s about to lay out the sum of points of why he was most likely not going to show up when, at last, the doorbell rings.
Ameliance stands, straightening her dress.
“He will.” she smiles smugly before exiting the room.
They both walk to the entrance hall, Alphinaud hurrying his step to catch up with her, and they encounter a very out of place Estinien being led into the estate by a servant. He’s forgone his usual armour and tied his silver locks into a ponytail, and Alphinaud can’t help but think of how very much this casual look suits him. The colour of his shirt compliments the tone of the skin that peaks out from the dip of its open neckline, because of course blue would look great on the Azure Dragoon.
As he peels his eyes away from Estinien’s cleavage, ashamed of himself for such unseemly gawking in the presence of others (and of his very own mother, of all people), their eyes meet, and the man gives Alphinaud a half, apologetic smile.
“Ser Estinien, I presume.” his mother beams, wasting no time to approach the Ishgardian and rest her hands upon his forearm. “My little Alphinaud thought you weren’t going to make it.”
“My apologies for the delay, Lady Leveilleur.” Estinien replies, positively confused as to what the woman wants with his arm. He shoots Alphinaud a puzzled look, and the boy merely smiles in response.
“Just Ameliance is fine.” she corrects him, as they walk arm in arm the way back to the drawing room. Alphinaud follows close behind, receiving a couple of glances over the shoulder from Estnien who is making sure that his friend is indeed joining them.
By the time they reach the room a maid has already brought tea, which the young Elezen cannot see but can most certainly smell, the rich scent of Coerthan tea leaves unmistakable. It had been his mother’s choice to have it served Ishgardian-style, to help the dragoon feel a little less out of his element, but if Alphinaud had to make a guess Estinien didn’t drink tea at all, Ishgardian or otherwise.
He’s relegated to a nearby bergère as his mother and their guest take seat on a larger couch, the maid approaching the older Elezen to inquire how he takes his tea as she places a tray with assorted biscuits on the coffee table.
“No sugar.”
“Are you sure?” Ameliance interjects. “Despite the yak milk, it’s still terribly bitter.” she warns him.
But the stubborn dragoon nods, never one to retract himself or back down. The maid pours the steaming liquid into a cup of fine china, its white porcelain adorned with patterns of green and blue, before placing the saucer on the table in front of him. As soon as Estinien takes his first sip, Alphinaud can read the clear regret on his face. For his friend’s sake, he pretends to not notice and tries his best to mask his amusement.
Once their guest has been served, a second cup comes to rest in front of his mother, and a third one with a fair amount of added sugar makes its way to his hands.
“It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” Ameliance starts, placing her silver spoon on the saucer after giving her infusion a thorough mix. “My son has written about you a great number of times in his letters home, it’s clear you’re somebody who he profoundly admires and holds in great esteem.”
Alphinaud isn’t sure who reddens faster; Estinien at the compliment, or himself after being exposed.
“I’m not sure if I’m worthy of such admiration, Lady Lev-” he catches himself, and bows his head lightly in apology. “Ameliance.”
He pauses for a moment, attempting to take a second sip out of his tea without grimacing.
“Whatever tales you’ve heard about me, they’re in all probability greatly exaggerated.” he adds, and his eyes make an accusatory side glance in Alphinaud’s direction, who is still absolutely mortified that his own mother would snitch on him so mercilessly as he attempts to shield his face behind the rim of his own teacup.
“In that case, would it be safe to assume you wouldn’t mind regaling some yourself?” the woman smiles, turning her eyes towards the tray. “To ensure a more accurate version is being presented.” Amongst the wide range of biscuits, she picks one with a scarlet, jam centre.
“Mother, I don’t think he-” Alphinaud protests, not wanting to bother the man even further, who already seemed somewhat displeased with the topic being brought up at all, but Estinien raises a hand that makes him halt in his protest.
“It’s alright.” he assures him, and the smile he gives him is enough to get him to desist. “What would you like to know?”
And Ameliance wants to know it all. How he’d served the Temple Knights as Azure Dragoon. How he’d accompanied her son and the famed Warrior of Light to parlay with the Dravanian Horde. How he’d saved the Hero of Eorzea from a killing blow by the blade of an Ascian wearing a Garlean’s skin. She wanted to hear about every single one of them, and Alphinaud hadn’t realised just how much he talks about the man in his letters home until his mother sat there listing all of his deeds.
The dragoon narrates them to the inquisitive woman to the best of his ability, apologising beforehand for “not having the same way with words as your son”. In Alphinaud’s opinion he was being too humble, and intervenes by adding in his own details here and there to ensure he doesn’t downplay the importance of his feats too much.
Their teacups get refilled with a second serving of tea (and this time Estinien is wise enough to listen to advice and add some sugar to ease its bitterness), and the heap of biscuits diminishes, as the recounting of events advances chronologically until reaching what had transpired in the past couple of weeks.
And then there’s a sudden change of topic on Ameliance’s behalf, the question catching both males off guard as they sip on their drinks, sending them into a coughing fit in unison.
"As a man of such reputation, you must have many suitors. Is there any lady awaiting your safe return?" she smiles, a certain cheekiness in her grin.
Alphinaud is equal amounts ashamed that a lady of his mother’s grace and status would trouble a guest with such unseemly gossip, and intrigued about his friend’s love life for his own selfish reasons. There was no lady for him to return to, right? Right? Oh, how he really hoped for the answer to be no.
“Nay, no such thing.” Estinien replies as soon as he stops choking on his own tea. Alphinaud’s shoulders sink slightly with relief, not even aware of how they had tensed up in the first place.
“A man then, perchance?”
The young Elezen swallows hard, trying his best to keep his calm despite how overly curious he is to see what the dragoon’s reaction would be to such a bold insinuation about his sexuality.
To his pleasant surprise, Estinien doesn’t seem any more bothered by this question than by the one prior.
“I’m afraid company is quite incompatible with the life of a vagrant, romantic or otherwise.” He clarifies.
“Well, if I’m not wrong that has changed as of late. Have you not been travelling in company of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn?” she questions.
And Alphinaud can feel the panic settle in his gut at the thought that she may suggest he should pursue one of his fellow Scions. Fortunately, the woman stirs the conversation in a different direction before Estinien can even formulate a response.
“I’m thankful that you have decided to join them.” She smiles, settling her cup down on the table. “No matter how great a warrior or scholar, the help of a caring friend can make a difference in a dire situation.” she adds, lacing her hands together upon her lap. “I’m well aware of the handful of times you’ve come to the aid of my children, and I couldn’t be any happier that they at last have such a loyal friend as their travel companion.”
Both males are left perplexed by her genuine gratitude. Alphinaud’s initial alarm is now being replaced by a pleasant warmth that spreads throughout his chest. He, too, feels that same gratefulness towards the man, and is elated by the thought of his own mother’s approval. By now, the way she spoke about him in their penned exchanges gave him the impression that they were discussing a family friend, despite her never having met Estinien in person. Now, he felt like he could truly become that.
“I…” Estinien starts, clearing his throat as he pauses to give his words some thought. “It’s the least I could do. Alphinaud saved my own life too, after all.”
The boy is now being stared at by a pair of steel blue eyes, and he’s not sure if he’s ever seen them look so kind. Oh, but how could he have done anything other than that? Even with how briefly he had known the man back then, he was somebody he immensely admired and looked up to.
After an awkward moment of silence, Alphinaud deduces that he’s awaiting a response.
“…It’s what anybody would’ve done for a friend.” He replies at last, returning his smile.
The rest of the soirée goes by amidst idle chatter, the vast array of topics touched upon culminating with embarrassing anecdotes of the twin’s childhood. Thankfully, it’s not long after that the dragoon announces it was about time he made his leave.
“I’ll grab a coat and accompany you.” Alphinaud declares, standing to his feet and making his leave as the maid returns to clear the table of their empty teacups.
As he makes his way to his bedroom where he slips on the garment his mother had ordered to be tailor-made for him only a couple weeks prior, his determination starts to falter. Truth be told, there had been another reason he had invited Estinien to spend the evening with them: He had hoped for a pleasant evening stroll back to the Baldesion Annex, and to muster the courage to confess his affection for the dragoon. Given what they were about to face, he didn’t want to leave anything unsaid, and much less feelings that had grown so tremendously large as of late. He couldn’t just let all this tenderness to remain concealed, existing the possibility that he may very soon be carrying it to his grave.
“Come on, Alphinaud…” he says, giving his coat a firm tug as he stares into his mirror: The reflection of a boy looking thoroughly terrified stares right back at him. “You can do this, do not squander.” he nods despite remaining mostly unconvinced, and exits his bedchamber.
He makes his way down the flight of stairs, meeting the dragoon and his mother who’d been waiting for his return by the entrance, and something feels wrong. The silver-haired man, who’s demeanour had softened into a much more amicable and relaxed one during the course of the evening, had returned to his previous tension and discomfort. What exactly had transpired in the brief minutes he was gone?
“…Is aught amiss?” he asks, gingerly.
“Just saying our goodbyes.” Ameliance smiles, and Alphinaud knows better than to be persuaded so easily by his mother’s merriness, as she’s used it in more than one occasion to convincingly mask a lie. But he also knows not to press the subject any further, lest he risk upset their guest more than he already seems to be.
After a brief exchange in which Estinien is ensured that he’ll be welcomed with open arms whenever he decides to visit the Leveilleur estate in the future, both males step out into the chilling evening air, sticky with the humidity carried into the city by Sharlayan’s port.
They hardly make it to the edge of the manor’s portico when his nerves get the best of him, and he decides to speak his mind before advancing any further. Not exactly what he had initially planned, but he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to engage in small talk the entirety of the way whilst the pending conversation loomed over his mind.
“Estinien…” he calls, the older man halting his step. “May I have a word with you, ere we part?”
The dragoon seems to hesitate, slowly turning to retrace his steps back to where the other Elezen stands and letting out a long exhale.
“Very well.” he nods after a few moments of awkward silence, giving off the impression to not be in the best of moods.
And oh, the terror settles in. He’d rehearsed this a million times inside his own head, and accounted for all of the dragoon’s possible responses. And still, he has to avert his gaze as he can feel his hands shake and become clammy, heart thrumming in his ears as it beats blood into his cheeks.
Now or never, Alphinaud.
He breathes in deeply, gathering all the bravery his trembling form can conjure, and stares Estinien straight into that pair of gorgeous, stormy eyes.
“There’s something you ought to know. Something of great importance to me.”
A rapid sound of steps ascending towards the estate can be heard more and more proximate, both of them turning to meet their source: None else than the Warrior of Light himself.
What an untimely interruption.
“…Oh? What brings you here?” Alphinaud asks, trying his best not to sound too upset.
And much to his dismay, their comrade not only replies to that but also takes it as an invitation to stay and make himself a part of their conversation. It’s a truly heartfelt one, sentiments of gratitude, optimism, and friendship are exchanged amongst the three men, but they are far from what Alphinaud had wished to confess in their moment alone.
He awaits patiently, hoping that eventually they would part ways and he’d have the taller man all to himself once more, but much to his dismay Estinien takes the opportunity to flee the moment the Warrior leaves.
And Alphinaud is left standing right there, full of disbelief and frustration in front of his own home as streetlamps flicker on around him, all of his courage and resolution having amounted to nothing.