Chapter Text
Dorien Aurifort was…unsure of how he was still alive. At this point, he was pretty sure it was the grace of the Fury, or the Twelve, or whoever that he was still kicking. He chuckled as he thumbed through the hefty tome situated at his side. Tracing a symbol from the book with his finger, he pressed his glowing palm to his face, reducing the bruise that was blossoming in addition to the swelling.
He didn’t regret it, though.
More than being happy to help defend that woman, he was pleased to do something about the merchant who accused her of the crime, strictly because she was a refugee. He smiled smugly to himself, knowing that the bastard was put in his place by two foreigners as he continued drawing the same symbol and pressing his hand to different aching body parts. It would not remove the soreness that he would feel tomorrow, but at least he wouldn’t look like he had his ass handed to him.
Still, despite his pride, there sat another, heavier feeling. It was the one thing he truly disliked about adventuring.
To most people, “adventurer” was synonymous with “hero.”
Heroes. Selfless. Brave.
He was not any of those. Maybe brave, though stupid is another word for bravery, he thought. No, he helped the woman because he was her once. He remembered looking to those in the crowd and seeing them all turn away. He helped people for the life he did not have.
Selfish was more accurate.
He was not mad about the word, nor did he feel as if it was self-deprecating. He did not even start adventuring to save people. It was just something that happened. He was aware that karma was not something that happened on its own, past experience had made it more than evident, so if he had to save people, he would only do so for people who deserved it. Good people. He did not save equally, and he was okay with that.
He was stopped in his thoughts and his work by a shadow eclipsing him. Upon looking up, he met a familiar pair of brown eyes hooded by a shock of white hair.
“Well, we meet again!” The voice called, grinning down at him.
Despite the soreness, despite the frustration, despite himself, Dorien grinned and jumped up, throwing his arms around the other man, squeezing him tight. He hadn’t seen his friend upon his return to Ul’dah a week ago; in fact, he had not seen him since before he left Ul’dah at the Sultana’s banquette. The hug was brief, and when he released him, he cleared his throat, “Apologies, my friend. I’ve had quite the day and forgot myself.”
His face was red, and Dorien felt a pang of remorse for pushing at his boundaries, “Oh, worry not, I saw the last bit of that exchange just now, so I have an idea. I must congratulate you on not fainting this time. …Though I am starting to become suspicious that you may only wait until I am around to conveniently lose consciousness.” He smirked and chuckled, taking a seat on the fountain’s edge where Dorien had been.
He had to bite back a laugh, “Why in the Hells would I pass out for your attention?”
The other man did not look up at him as he pulled out a dagger, wiping it on his sleeve in an attempt to shine it, “Why, so I may save you, of course.” He flicked his eyes up, meeting his, “You know I’m always a gentleman.”
He wanted to shove him into the fountain. How one man could contain so much audacity, Dorien could not understand. Wide-eyed, he just stared at a loss for words, a sound between a gasp and a laugh escaping him. “Gentleman, my ass. If I were looking to get your attention, I would do so in ways that do not endanger my own life.” He took a seat next to him and laughed.
“You wound me, sir! I only come here with compliments for you, and this is how you treat me?” He had his hand placed over his chest, a dramatically hurt look on his face.
Dorien arched a brow, unable to hide the intrigue written on his features, “You sought me out?”
This seemed to catch him off guard, as he said, “I. Ah. Well. Yes, actually. It mostly concerns those visions of yours. You have been having visions, yes?” He explained to the mage that he had been keeping an eye on him. Not personally, but through connections. These same connections he wanted Dorien to meet. He emphasized their leader, a woman who seemed to experience those same visions, and how working together could aid him in understanding them. “We are of the firm belief that you will be able to assist us, but be not mistaken in that we will aid you, as well. You once described your goals as being “Ul’dah’s best delivery man?” Well, why stop at Ul’dah?” He laughed, “In addition, I am hardly the only scholar among the lot, and assistance with research is always quite appreciated if that too interests you.”
He found himself speechless. Overwhelmed with gratitude and confusion, he sat there, eyes fixed on the buildings ahead of him.
“You need not give me your answer now, mind you. Simply speak with the mistress of the Quicksand, the ever lovely and youthful Momodi. You simply need to tell her that ‘The Scions of the Seventh Dawn have found their man.’” He clasped a hand on Dorien’s shoulder, and he was hyper-aware of the weight, the warmth of his skin, and the thumb, pressed lightly onto his collarbone.
Without thinking, he blurted out, “Why me, though?” A flash of shame went through him at that. He was not one to speak so candidly about…well, anything. He could not fathom why he would be chosen, though. How rare were these visions that they drew any amount of attention, that they made him valuable?
A confused look from the other man, then a look of…something, Dorien could not quite place. The hand on his shoulder squeezed it lightly before moving to his upper arm, the thumb whose presence he could not ignore tracing his collar bone. “You enjoy asking me difficult questions; I’m starting to think. It is not just your visions that caught our eye.” His hand moved off his arm, despite Dorien willing it to stay. His words were quieter now, a little softer; the sarcastic bite effectively removed as he said, “You possess a set of admirable traits. Simply from observation, you played the part of envoy to perfection—confident as a man on a diplomatic mission should be, yet unfailingly courteous to your betters. And when your travels led you into the midst of danger, you faced it without so much as a flinch. You, my friend, are quite a marvel, and I confess to being somewhat in awe of you!”
He had to temper the flush overcoming him at the words, “Now, Thancred—"
He held up a finger with his free hand, stopping him, “Ah, but my lavish praise continues. Most of all, I was struck by your readiness to aid those in need, even when words were all the reward you could expect to receive. Know that such selflessness is a rare thing in this day and age.”
It felt as though a bright coin was shining in the dirt. Awe, but it was due to a trait he did not possess. It was based on a lie. He wanted to hold onto the false statement, he wanted to be selfish, but this kind of selfishness felt wrong.
Everything about this exchange was leaving him conflicted. He was no longer enjoying himself as stress and doubt ate at him. Thancred must have seen it too, or maybe he had been silent for too long; he could not tell. Still, that hand, so strong and sure, was on his upper arm once more. His thoughts, once spiraling, stopped, and the whirlpool transformed back into small waves, lapping at the shore, buffeting but not consuming. He pushed through the rest of the negativity with a fake smile, ever the actor, as he said, “Now, my friend, you are flattering me.”
A squeeze from him and through it surged reassurance and comfort. “Flattery implies embellishment. I speak from the observations I have noted.” The hand left once more, and he waved it as he continued, “Now, I claim not to know the inner workings of that fascinating mind of yours. What I do know is that I have found that a person’s character shines through their actions and not so much their reasoning. Intentions matter little when a scene only exists in memory.”
Despite himself, he found the tension left him. It was as if the touch drew it from him like how he channeled through conjury. Thancred had a way of easing the mage’s mind like that. He was not one to share his troubles, showing others his weakness. Still, short of their conversation that night at the Quicksand, he had never explicitly mentioned any concerns, yet his friend still found a way to ease his unspoken worries. It was different, it was nice.
He bumped him with his shoulder, rolling his eyes, “Now, sir, you risk making me more prideful than I already am. You’d best mind your tongue.”
Without skipping a beat, the hyur looked up at him, pulling his gaze. “Oh? Pride from the truth is nothing to be ashamed of. What might you do if I refuse?”
He leaned in. If prideful is what Thancred wanted, he could be that. “Well, I suppose I may have to mind it for you.” A twitch of the mouth, a smirk.
His face so close, Dorien saw the very brief look of surprise, which elicited the pride he sought. He spoke quietly, yet his tone was combative, “As if you could. Many have tried, yet none have succeeded.”
Ilms away. He was but ilms away. He wanted nothing more than to meet this challenge.
Then Thancred backed away, and Dorien quickly tempered the disappointment. He had to remind himself that this was a game. He had to remember that and cease getting lost in hope. Still, from a source he could not quite place, part of him was happy that it would never be more than a game.
The bard cleared his throat, looking away. “I feel as if I should make you aware. Despite your offer, tempting as it may be, know that I do not seek a romantic relationship at this time. I apologize if I set any sort of expectation, but I would regret it if you were to think I was leading you on. This is especially true if you were to join the Scions.”
The elezen blinked. Once. Twice. Each of the words washed over him, and he had to understand them individually before processing what was said as a whole. He did not notice the look in the other man’s eyes. He did not see how he sought words to soothe his friend.
He did not notice any of that. Instead, Dorien let out a chuckle and so matter-of-factly said, “Oh. I was not looking for romance.”
Silence draped over them like a sheet.
Though it felt like an hour, the quiet minute had them both staring forward at nothing, a look of serious contemplation mirrored on their faces.
Then Thancred laughed.
Then Dorien laughed.
------
They laughed for a while, both surprised at how much the situation had been misread. Thancred Waters sat up and leaned on his arm, braced against the fountain’s edge when he could finally compose himself. “Well, what a situation we have found ourselves in. Truly, you seek not romance?”
His friend was still laughing, curled on himself as he shook. The smile pulling at the hyur went unnoticed upon seeing him like this. When his friend sat up, he shook his head, still chuckling as he spoke, “Oh, absolutely not. No, my intentions were not so honorable, but I appreciate you thinking they were. …You, though, you found them tempting?”
The bard froze, realizing what he had said earlier. “I. ah.”
He had not intended his feelings towards the other to slip like that. To think he would be so careless as to test their relationship thusly. It…did work out, though. He couldn’t necessarily argue with the results.
His friend straightened, one hand flying to his mouth, the other pointed at Thancred. “You were! You fiend. Here I thought you had been simply humoring me this entire time.”
His brows knit together as he looked up at the other man, “Now why would I do that?”
“Why, to get in my good graces, of course. There are benefits to befriending Ul’dah’s best delivery man, you know. It especially worked out for you knowing that I have these visions or whatever that you seek.” Green eyes side-eyed him, smirking, though the excitement they were holding back was noticeable.
“You are quite prideful, you know.” Thancred rolled his eyes.
A laugh, “You were the one telling me that the truth is worth taking pride in.” Then, faster than he could process, those eyes that he had been so fixated on, those freckles that dusted his cheeks, were close to him, closer than he had anticipated, and it took all the training he had ever been through not to fall into the fountain behind him.
In the space between them, he could feel the warmth of their breaths mingling, and in that instance, he considered mingling more than that.
This time Dorien backed away first, flashing a grin, “Then what might this all be, my friend? Neither of us seeks romance. My intentions have been laid bare before you. Whatever you say, know it will not change things; I simply seek to understand where your head is at in all this.”
He spoke so unceremoniously as if he was simply asking to borrow some parchment.
Thancred sat up this time, not giving the other an opportunity to knock him into the water behind them. “Well, as I see it, it need not be more complicated than it appears. If a casual arrangement is what you seek, I would be more than happy to consent to such a request. However, before you continue with anything, I believe I issued you a challenge.” A confused look from the other man and the bard chuckled as he stood, “You said you would ‘mind my tongue,’ should my praise of you continue. Well, know that I had no plans on stopping.”
Dorien opened his mouth to interject, but Thancred was already walking, waving his hand in circles as he spoke dramatically, “I feel as though I have already spoken at length about your character, but there are points I have not mentioned, such as how your way with words exceeds no others, save my own maybe. Your passion burns as brilliantly as a fire, much like the twilit sun on your hair. When I saw you at the Sultana’s banque—ah!"
-----
Dorien Aurifort felt the shame and embarrassment flaring up his neck, across his cheeks, and even to the tips of his long ears. People were watching Thancred make an absolute fool of himself and then looking at him, the person who was the target of those words. Moving faster than he thought himself capable, the mage grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into the shadows under the stairs next to the Quicksand. He turned on his friend, a scowl on his face, and when he saw the smug grin on the other man, he wanted to scream. “You need to stop.”
“I was not planning on it.” He raised his brows and smirked, “Mind you, you were the one who threatened me, and I am simply seeing if you will hold true.” He looked up and met his gaze, only ilms away once more. “Oh. Have I mentioned your eyes? They were easily one of the fi—”
The mage put his hands on the other’s cheeks and pulled him forward, pressing his lips to Thancred’s mid-sentence, if only to get him to stop.
While the words did, in fact, stop, so did all the thoughts in Dorien’s head. All the embarrassment and the spite, now replaced with want. Teeth scraping each other, biting the other’s lips gently as Dorien moved a hand to his waist. One of Thancred’s hands entwined itself in his hair, and the other rested on his chest.
Dorien was selfish, and he was not mad about it, nor did he feel as if it was self-deprecating. He knew this as he took in the man’s scent, remembering it fondly from the small handful of times he woke up from a vision in his arms and from when they had acted out this exact scenario months ago. Months of this song and dance, and he had the man under him now, kissing him.
The hand entangled in his hair, loosening the strands from the braid, moved to his cheek, a soft caress from calloused hands. A thumb pressed the corner of his mouth, trying to coax him into deepening the kiss, but this was his challenge; he would not let it be that easy.
They went deeper into the shadows, and Dorien felt the cool stone on his arm before it met the other’s back. Thancred let out a gasp, and it was that lapse in focus that he was looking for. He took the opportunity to take a breath before letting his tongue slide into the other’s mouth.
The sound that came from him…it was quiet, he tried to stifle it, but Dorien knew he had succeeded. He pulled back for breath, looking into the light brown eyes staring up at him, wanting more. He let his hand trail along the other’s jawline, tilting his head up just a little more as the mage leaned down and kissed his neck, small, brief pecks following the shape of those tattoos of his. Thancred’s breath was shallow, and Dorien could hear his heart beating as he pulled, ever-so-lightly, at the skin, not enough to mark, but enough to draw another, louder sound from him. He smiled into the crook of his neck and whispered, “I could mind more than that if you would like. You need only say the word, dear.”
“I think heading inside might be a…prudent decision.” He said breathily, and Dorien snickered at that. He had moved his hand back to Dorien’s cheek, pulling him into another kiss, quick, brief, a promise for more.
The elezen smiled at his friend and moved to make his way out from the shadows. He was about to step around the planter when he saw Thancred move quickly behind him, placing a hand on his ear.
He knew of linkshells; he did not have one, too much money, not enough people to contact. It sounded like it was from that group he mentioned, and he could feel his stomach sink.
“I. No. Yes. Are you quite sure? Right now? I was in the middle of something--…I understand; I will try and intercept the shipment before they make it back.” The frustration in his tone was mildly entertaining, but more than that, there was a disappointment too. When the hand fell from his ear, he cursed under his breath before giving his friend a sympathetic look. “It seems I have been summoned. Emergency, they say.”
The elezen moved back over to him, smiling and shrugging, trying to act as nonchalant about the ordeal as he could. “Are you sure you aren’t using this as an opportunity to leave?”
The look he received was deathly serious as Thancred replied, “Absolutely not.” He sighed and moved around Dorien, “Let’s call this…check for now. I will be preparing my response for the next time we meet.” His eyes said, ‘hopefully very soon.’
Dorien laughed incredulously, “I was unaware that this was chess now.” They both moved from the shadow, and the mage sat on the planter that had shielded them from the public eye twice now. “I suppose if I must acquiesce to your departure, I will. Be not mistaken though; if you are, in fact, using this as an excuse, I will find you.”
“Mayhaps try and find me anyways. May just be faster.” He laughed and bowed before darting off once more.
Dorien was selfish. He knew this, yet he watched the man he had been trying to sleep with for months run off into the desert beyond the gates.
What an idiot he was.