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Coerthas had never felt warmer than when Z’tahra woke up in the morning. He heard the sound of the fire crackling in the center of the room. It was dying down, he could tell by the subtle scent of smoke in the room and the occasional pop. He really should go stoke it, but… He sighed as he felt a warm arm wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to the middle of the bed.
“The fire is dying.” Z’tahra kept his voice quiet, hardly above a whisper. Just in case his partner was not fully awake yet.
A grunt answered him, as well as a cold nose being poked into the back of his neck. Z’tahra hissed under his breath, swatting at Haurchefant’s flank. Or side, or leg, or whatever was easiest to reach. Something about elezen men being ridiculously tall made it so that Z’tahra never knew how the knight contorted himself to be comfortable with such a small partner tucked against his stomach.
“Then go deal with it.”
“You are holding me captive.”
“Captive implies that you want to leave.”
Z’tahra scoffed and settled down, resting his hand over Haurchefant’s. “I need to get up. Alphinaud and Tataru haven’t seen me for two days. If I don’t eat with them this morning, then--”
“Is the warrior of light scared of his receptionist and a young man who has yet to grow into his ears?”
“If you were half as smart as you were tall, you would be as well.”
“Feeling feisty this morning, I see.” Haurchefant kissed the back of Z’tahra’s neck, his fingers beginning to run small circles into his stomach. Slowly but surely, Z’tahra began to loosen up against him.
“You know how I feel about sleeping in.”
A grunt was all the answer he got, before Haurchefant released him. Z’tahra immediately sprung out of the bed and pulled on his clothes, trying his best not to freeze before they were on. After he was dressed, he warmed his hands at the fire as he stoked it, before looking over. Haurchefant was doing his best to look put out, though Z’tahra wasn’t fooled. “Stop acting as if I’m abandoning you. Nothing is keeping you from joining us at breakfast.”
“When you feel as though you can drop this ridiculous charade, I will be more than happy to do so.” Haurchefant slowly removed himself from the bed, beginning to stretch. Z’tahra was a gentleman. He only stared when Haurchefant could see him doing so. “Until that day, I must keep a friendly distance. I fear I am unable to act as if you are only my friend.”
Z’tahra looked down at his hands, the nerves gnawing his gut as he thought about telling anyone about his relationship with Haurchefant. Truly, he did not know where this anxiety came from. He knew Tataru and Alphinaud would be overjoyed. His parents had no say in what he did or didn’t do. What was it about this that made him want to retreat?
Z’tahra nearly jumped a fulm in the air when he suddenly felt warm fingers at his wrist. “Z’tahra, look at me.” Haurchefant lowered his voice marginally, doing his best to calm him down. Warm circles being drawn into the underside of his wrist gave him something to focus on, and his breathing returned to normal.
Z’tahra’s cheeks flushed crimson, though he did as Haurchefant asked and looked up at him. “You need not ever endanger your peace for me. If it pains you to address our relationship publicly, I will not fault you for it.” He cradled Z’tahra’s chin in his hand, and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Merely being in your presence will be enough for me.”
“But you deserve-”
“What I deserve is irrelevant. What I have is a partner who just lost most of his comrades over the course of one evening.” Haurchefant continued consoling Z’tahra, and sat next to him. Z’tahra easily folded himself under Haurchefant’s chin and sat in his lap. “It is no surprise that you find yourself unable to admit to a deeper relationship with me. You are fearful something should happen to me as well if you do so.”
Z’tahra thought on the words, and found them true. He sighed and nuzzled under Haurchefant’s chin, pressing a light kiss to the skin. “You understand my thoughts more than I do, my friend.”
Haurchefant laughed and hugged Z’tahra somehow closer. “My wisdom comes from trial and error, Tahra. Do you remember when we first met? You ran about for three days doing trivial errands and came back to Camp Dragonhead blue because you thought me pompous.”
“You are a noble, my lord.” Z’tahra rolled his eyes, gently hitting Haurchefant on the chest. “A pirate does not tend to show weakness to those who believe themselves superior. I would sooner steal your warming tinctures than take them freely offered.”
Haurchefant laughed boisterously, no doubt imagining Z’tahra and his old lifestyle. “You do not sound like a pirate, in all honestly. You must tell me of some of your adventures on the sea.”
“Minfilia and I sat down for several days when I asked her to help me get rid of the accent.” Z’tahra admitted, his ears flattening against his head. “Y’shtola, one of my comrades who-- anyway uh-- when she heard me speak after the lessons she asked if I was my own brother.” Haurchefant began laughing again, prompting Z’tahra to laugh through his own melancholy at the mention of Minfilia and Y’shtola.
“Most of the time, we raided Garlean vessels. The scar on my lips is from one of their gunblades on my first raid. My combat prowess was nonexistent, but I was one hells of a rogue. One of them caught me off guard and nearly took my head off.” Z’thara revealed, beginning to relax completely against Haurchefant. “My parents were the true pirates. I only went on the one raid, and when they died, the captain promised to look after me. Until I grew into myself I was left behind in Limsa to ‘train’. Eventually I proved to him I was ready, and when I was on the ship…” Z’tahra trailed off, before shaking his head.
“I realized it wasn’t my home. I thought being on their old ship would help me feel better. All it did was end up distracting me until I nearly died for it. I stayed below deck for the rest of the raids of the season, and the Captain allowed me to leave without a fuss. I think he knew I didn’t find what I was looking for.”
“Far be it from me to disagree. If you were still a pirate, I fear I wouldn’t have met you.” Haurchefant spoke softly, his hands threading through Z’tahra’s hair. “Allow me to express my condolences for your parents. They raised a beautiful man.”
Z’tahra laughed in response, blinking the wetness out of his eyes. “They raised a pirate, Haurchefant. I did the rest. They were wonderful pirates, I agree, however their parenting was very similar to tossing a babe in the ocean in order to teach it to swim.”
Haurchefant prodded for more tales in response, and Z’tahra happily gave them. Together they sat, exchanging piracy tales, and stories of childhoods from wildly different backgrounds. The life of a pirate, and the life of a bastard noble could not be more different, and yet neither of them felt as if they had learned enough by the time Alphinaud knocked at the door in a frenzy and proclaimed the Warrior of Light had been kidnapped.