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“so,” aymeric started, but estinien was up and out of his seat before he’d started his next syllable, hand around the doorknob and twisting. he’d have made it out of the room in the next breath, too, but aymeric must’ve known he’d run: the door was locked with two other bolts, one above one below. aymeric had enough time to walk over at his leisure and collect estinien, as if he was a misbehaving child rather than the halone-damned thrice-swived azure dragoon.
he was directed back to his seat, the chirugeon’s bed creaking beneath his weight. “so,” aymeric tried again, sitting opposite him and steepling his fingers, “the tribunal.”
“what of it? i wasn’t there, and i don’t care what the outcome was.”
“you Were there,” aymeric grumbled. “if you weren’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, and you wouldn’t be trying to run out of the room like a spooked mare. i had to have the chirugeons find a windowless room—“ Estinien sucked his teeth at this, frustrated— “so you wouldn’t jump away, either. i am not known to put preparations in place for something insignificant.”
“fine,” the dragoon said, idly toying with an errant lock of hair. “what, then, are we to speak about? the dead men? the falsely accused heretics? the—“
“estinien.” aymeric’s voice was flat, edged sharply. “i don’t appreciate this game.”
“like you appreciate any other—“ estinien started, but the look of simmering anger in aymeric’s eyes was more cautionary than attractive. “ugh. it’s about ser rouchambeau, i’d imagine.”
“yes. he’s been under for a week now; the chirugeons are working with the newly formed astrologian’s guild to heal him. apparently his wounds were— and i quote— ‘like he’d been rent by a wild beast.’ you have much to answer for.”
estinien sat back, arms crossed. “he insulted you.”
“i know.”
“he called you a bastard unfit to walk halone’s halls.”
“i know.”
“he said— he said you’re naught but a common whore.” estinien’s palms clenched into fists; he uncrossed his arms. “i could not brook it.”
“i had expected you to be more incensed about the oaths he brought to bear on your lineage,” aymeric said, posture still stiff but less coiled to leap up and collect the other man. “mauling him for what he called you—“
“—i’ve heard it before,” estinien said, dismissively. “he could have called me bahamut’s consort and i’d have turned the other cheek. but insulting you—“
“estinien.” aymeric stood, crossed the few fulms between them, sat down beside the dragoon. “you need not defend my honour.”
“just because i don’t need to doesn’t mean i don’t want to,” he huffed. “you may be a better man than i, but standing by and listening to someone— to someone drag you through shite— i can’t stand it. i can’t!” estinien paused, collected himself. “you are so needlessly patient with those who seek your downfall. it’s agony to watch.”
“it’s politics,” shrugged aymeric, but he laid a hand on estinien’s knee in apology. “i’m used to it, i’ve developed the thick skin one needs for these affairs. and while i can’t say i appreciate your gestures publically, they do speak to me.” he sighed, watched estinien look once more at the door before returning his gaze to his face. “but you absolutely cannot turn your lance upon a temple knight.”
“i can, and i will, until they give you the respect you deserve.” the dragoon pressed his lips into a hard line, stubborn. “their insubordination—“
“—is none of your concern,” finished aymeric. “this is a matter of a man’s life, my reputation be damned. i’d rather be called a ‘common whore’ than have someone die for my honour.”
“i hate hearing you say that,” estinien muttered.
“well, i apologize. but it’s true: ishgard’s azure dragoon is not a man that can rend his countrymen to pieces and escape without scrutiny. you’ll have to answer for this, estinien, and you absolutely cannot do it again.” aymeric sighed. “i dislike having to take up my mantle of office with you, but as lord commander—“
“i understand,” said estinien. he didn’t meet aymeric’s gaze. “what, then, is my punishment?”
“the court hasn’t yet decided; it all falls on ser rouchambeau to recover. if he doesn’t, things may be, ah, severe. if he does, i’d imagine the See may let you off relatively easy.” he watched the dragoon grimace. “it’s hard to punish someone who cannot be divorced from his station.”
“aye, though being thrall to nidhogg’s power is punishment enough for any crime.”
aymeric’s face tightened, just for a moment. “the See doesn’t understand that aspect of the situation. you know that—“
“—aye, but it doesn’t ameliorate a damn thing.”
“consider yourself duly disciplined, then,” said aymeric, and stood. “i’ve a few meetings to attend. if i can request you be on your finest behaviour for a few days?”
“i’ll do my best,” said estinien. “take care.”
—-
“i cannot believe you. by the Fury herself. it’s been, what, six weeks?”
“eight,” estinien corrected, leaning against the wall. “and i didn’t raise my lance—“
“i don’t care,” snarled aymeric, whipping around to face him. he’d pulled estinien out of the dining hall in a hurry to de-escalate the situation, but could hear the clamour behind the oaken doors still shut behind them. “while i suppose i’m glad you followed my request as written, you’re still going against the nature of it—“
“and listen to knights worth less than the shit they scrape off their own boots speak ill of you? i can’t. i’d sooner let Halone take me.”
aymeric faltered at that, his mouth closing. he collected himself, looked back to the still-shut comissary door. “estinien.”
“what, are you going to tell me to hold my tongue once more?”
“no— clearly it doesn’t take. i— why go to such lengths, even when you know it affects me so little? the knights can say all they like, but my station is still secured.”
“you don’t—“ estinien spat, shocked. “you don’t get it? do i have to spell it out?”
his words hung in the air, a weight hovering at the apex of its arc. aymeric regarded estinien: his body tense, his eyes glittering, defiant. it was rare nowadays to see him without his helm, and his silver hair cascading down the back of the drachen armour made for quite the striking image. he was also, aymeric noted with a touch of wonder, blushing.
he considered. make estinien say the words they both knew were true yet could not acknowledge, or say them himself— or ignore it, this Thing that festered between them, until another temple knight thought himself clever and got a steel gauntlet to the face for it. aymeric was no idiot; the last thing may be easiest, but could not come to pass. so it was up to either him or estinien to say it, to bring it into the open air, squinting and hissing. someone would have to break the tension; someone would have to take the plunge.
that someone, it turned out, was the enormous oaken doors being pushed open and a gaggle of temple knights rushing out. “there he is!” one of them yelled, pointing then running headlong at estinien. “make the fury-damned heretic pay!”
estinien moved in an instant: collected aymeric in his arms, took a running start, jumped through the high tower window and out onto the rooftops. he’d have to make another leap; there were other dragoons among the temple knights. aymeric, meanwhile, had first gone stiff then relaxed into his touch. “i fear,” he said, hanging on to the other man, “this may cause more problems than it solves. but i also fear that i can’t be assed to care.”
“that makes two of us,” said estinien, before he jumped. the pair arced across the sky, aymeric’s heart in his throat, before landing with a dull thud on the rooftop of the borel manor. “somehow i’m sure the barracks won’t be safe quarters for us tonight.” estinien muttered as he released aymeric, who kept a hand on his shoulder for balance.
“very likely,” said aymeric, appraising the situation. “i, uh, must admit that this manor does not have rooftop access—“
one more jump and a quick fumbling of keys later, Aymeric closed the manor door firmly behind him and threw both bolts. “hopefully their bloodlust fades by the morrow and we’re able to get you back to the barracks without fear of your being disemboweled.”
“i’m not worried overmuch,” grumbled estinien, though the steady tap of his gauntlet tips on his braces spoke otherwise. “if any of the whoresons want to try me, they certainly can.”
“i would very deeply rather no further blows be exchanged. not that i doubt your martial abilities,” aymeric added, mollifying, “but i don’t particularly enjoy having to defend you in a court of law on a regular basis.”
“strike down the law that says i can’t cave a coward’s face in for making you out to be a lesser man, and you won’t have to—“
“estinien.” aymeric sighed, placed a hand on the dragoon’s shoulder. “i know.”
“hmm.” he grunted, but said no more; aymeric led him through the main hall into the dark, warm kitchen, then up the back stairs and into aymeric’s chambers proper. rather restrained in decor for a high house, his four-post bed sat across from a crackling fireplace and a full wardrobe.
“if you want to remove your armour, i’ll help you,” said aymeric, motioning to the empty stand at the wall. “i doubt you’ll need it til the morrow.”
estinien thought a moment, weighed some combination of factors aymeric could only guess at, then pulled off his gauntlets with little fanfare. next, vambraces, boots, chestplate, arm guards, until the dragoon was clad half in mail half in his thin underclothes. he pulled the mail shirt over his head, peeled the leggings off, and sat heavily down on the corner of aymeric’s bed. “i’ve plenty practice removing it myself,” he muttered, fingers idly twisting a loose thread on his chemise. “but thank you.”
“estinien—“ aymeric started, but couldn’t find words to say what he wanted to; caught up somewhere between let me care for you and you never need to sacrifice yourself for me and show me your love in a way that doesn’t make you hurt , he could only grasp for straws. frustrating at best, but his was a position reliant on elocution, and having it be so fickle was an uncomfortable situation to be in.
instead, he shrugged off his overcoat, his belt and light plate, placed them on the dresser and joined estinien on the bed. this close, he could feel the heat of the other man’s body, see his chest rise and fall with steady breath. “i have,” he finally ventured, “a difficult time, speaking frankly about our— our relationship. as it were.”
“unusual of you to struggle with words,” said estinien, but he didn’t pull away.
“it’s fiendish,” and aymeric took one of estinien’s hands in his. “but i shall endeavour on. do you— do you take pleasure in sacrificing yourself for my sake?”
estinien shook his head, paused, grimaced. “i— it isn’t like that, for me. or rather, i don’t think of it as a self sacrifice; my self doesn’t factor into it. i don’t want you to have to have the patience and the grace that you do.”
“it is hard to see you hurt for me,” aymeric murmured, his thumb rubbing tiny circles over estinien’s. “harder still to have to mete out consequences beyond my control.”
“yet i cannot sit back and allow your suffering.”
“estinien—“
firmly, gently, estinien turned aymeric’s face to his. “even now i would take on your pains; you deserve the world, and no less.” he leaned in for a kiss; aymeric turned his cheek.
“you must needs understand, my dragoon, that i desire this bliss for you as well— with the same fervour, no less. and yet you leave me no opportunity to soothe you, to offer the succor i can. would you not give me that?”
estinien stared. “i am a tool of halone, a worthless man, less than a heretic yet a piece on the board to be mobilized and recalled. what succor could i deserve?”
“oh— estinien—“ and this time when he leaned in, aymeric kissed him back. “you give yourself little credit for all you do. for all you have done.”
“i don’t deserve the credit,” muttered estinien, lips against aymeric’s cheek. he pulled back, cast his eyes over the drachen armour glinting gently in the firelight. “had i a choice, i’d like as not still be a shepherd out in the highlands, far away from any of these politics. i did not intend to take up this mantle. i simply fit what was being looked for.”
“and i would love you just as well,” said aymeric before he had the wherewithal to think about it.
they had, until now, studiously avoided naming their shared feelings in any concrete way; aymeric because he feared it would cause estinien to bolt, estinien because he didn’t believe himself capable of eliciting said feelings from anyone, let alone having the emotional literacy to recognize it in himself. they had been dancing around it for years— since they were no more than boys shyly making eyes across the mess hall table— each man aware of their bond but unable or unwilling to call it what it was. they had been in love. they would likely always be in love, aymeric knew, and he had at some point resigned himself to letting it remain amorphous, unnamed, a presence unacknowledged.
estinien jolted back as if he’d been struck, whipping back to meet aymeric’s eyes. “did you—“ he started, but aymeric hushed him with a hand over his mouth.
“does it matter, truly? call it whatever we will; i know what i feel— and i know you share in it.” estinien, tense and wide-eyed, made some muffled noise into aymeric’s hand. “if you would let me, i would tell the world of my love for you. i would, without hesitation. i would give up all that i have for you— does this not tell you the extent to which i hold you so dear?”
aymeric moved his hand, his piece said, and let estinien digest his words. “it feels like a gift,” the dragoon finally said, eyes on where aymeric still held his hand. “i know it is for me, but all the same i question how i could deserve such a precious thing.”
“you need not do anything to deserve it— you simply must be you. all your foibles, your quirks, your stubborn insistence with defending my honour to other temple knights—“ (estinien chuckled)”—i would not have you without them: they are part of you, indelibly, beautifully.” aymeric raised his unoccupied hand again, this time to cup estinien’s cheek. “and i will tell you this until you believe it, be it within the week or thirty years hence.”
“aymeric,” breathed estinien. he could swear he saw the glassy film of unshed tears over the dragoon’s eyes, for a moment, before he’d blinked it away. “you are altogether too kind.”
“hush,” said aymeric, and kissed him again. “but do promise me to stay your hand. if it helps you to feel like justice will be done, i can assign the knights who torment you so some duties in the highland townships—“
“no,” murmured estinien, a quiet smile on his lips. “as you hold yourself with dignity and patience, so must i. to— to show my love for you.”
hearing him say it, actually say it, was so surprising aymeric’s jaw did drop; minutely, yes, but obvious. more arresting was the electric feeling that coursed through him. he leaned forward again, kissed estinien’s mouth (pliant, his stubble scratchy against aymeric’s own), wrapped his arms around the other man.
“were we not already in bed i’d ask to take you to it,” he grinned, and bit at the tip of estinien’s ear.