Chapter Text
Sanson stirred awake, his eyes slowly adjusting to the sliver of sunlight coming through his window. It was almost a normal morning, until the sharp pain in his side reminded him of what had happened over the last couple of weeks. He grunted and rubbed the bandaged area.
Being forced to stay on bed rest was going to be impossible for him today.
He ran a hand through his dark hair and let out a sigh. He had sustained minor injuries during the skirmish that had led him to be captured by Nourval, but one of them was taking a stubbornly long time to heal. Commander Vorsaile had given him a medical leave to recover, but the fact that he had been captured in the first place left a deeper wound in his pride. He needed to get up and train. Had Guydelot and Viola not rallied some allies to come rescue him, he knew he would be a corpse by now.
Guydelot… He felt a flutter in his heart. The fierce look in the bard’s eyes as he had fought against Nourval and his cronies was unlike anything he had seen before. Why did he risk his station to come after me? He’s already on thin ice with the Adders as it is. The only reason he hasn’t been dismissed is because he reports to me.
The bard was aggravating at times, but he was skilled, and Sanson could not help but steal glances at the elezen from time to time.
He’s an absolute scoundrel, and yet he saved my life…
Sanson let out a sigh and forced himself to sit up, ignoring the dull pain in his side. Sitting in bed and stewing would do nothing for him, and the pain was not too terrible. He carefully stood up and dressed himself in his yellow traveling attire. If his commander would not allow him to do any official Adder business while he was supposed to be recovering, then he was going to make sure his lance was sharp and his senses honed, so that he would not get captured again.
The training yards would certainly be off-limits to a man who was supposed to be in bed, so he decided to head toward the Twelveswood itself. Even in his recovering state, he was unconcerned that creatures in the forest would cause him much trouble. Lance slung on his back, he walked toward the eastern gate of Gridania and was relieved when no one stopped him.
Perhaps word has not spread among the Adders that I am to be resting, he thought as he waved at the Adders standing guard at the gate.
The sun was now poking through the lower branches of the trees, the mid-morning mist burning away. He smiled as the bustling chatter of the city died away behind him, giving way to the sounds of rustling trees, birds singing, and critters scurrying about. He did not often spend time alone in the forest, he realized, so perhaps this little excursion could count as “rest” after all.
He had ventured a ways into the Shroud before he heard the unmistakable sound of an arrow striking wood. He froze and gripped the lance on his back, glancing around to find either the arrow or its archer.
I did not expect that my training would involve bandits, he thought. He felt a brief pang of fear, wondering if this solo venture into the forest may have been unwise after all. His last solo venture into the hills of Gyr Abania had gotten him captured.
Another thwack of an arrow hitting wood caused him to draw his lance, but then he heard the sound of swearing.
That voice… He relaxed his stance and followed the sound into a clearing.
Sure enough, an elezen wearing teal, with teal highlights in his hair, was in the process of nocking another bow. A target had been set up across from him, with two arrows in the outer ring.
“Guydelot? Why are you out here?” Sanson asked as he stepped into the clearing.
Guydelot jumped and turned to him, frowning. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed? Vorsie’s never gonna let me hear the end of it if he finds out you’re up and about in the woods.”
“Guydelot, when have you ever given a wink about what the commander says?”
The bard smirked. “Touche, chief.” He put his bow down and walked over to him. “So, what is making Sanson the Stiff break direct orders to stay in bed and rest?”
Sanson groaned. “The injuries are not that bad, as I mentioned before. Besides, I…” He looked around the clearing, still somewhat on edge. “I need to practice and get stronger. I can’t afford to be captured again.”
“Well if you’re gonna beat yourself up about getting captured, at least take someone with you into the woods so you don’t get captured again.” Guydelot shrugged. “Look, I fell for it, too. If I’d gone with you, maybe you wouldn’t have…”
Sanson felt a flush rise to his cheeks. “I-It’s my fault,” he stammered. “We sent Viola alone, and she was fine. If I had been stronger...”
Guydelot snorted. “Now, Sanson, don’t go comparing yourself to the Warrior of Light. Of course Viola was fine, but in the future, she should have escorts, too.”
There was an awkward silence for a moment, as Sanson stared down at his boots in embarrassment.
“R-Regardless,” he finally muttered, “I-I should also thank you for rescuing me. I truly had begun to think I was done for, and then you…”
“Well of course I was going to come after you! Adder orders or whatever be damned. We’ve traveled together for too long now for me to let you get captured by some misguided fool.” Guydelot put a hand on his shoulder, and Sanson looked up into his eyes.
Those same burning eyes from when he fought Nourval. He means it…
“I am… so grateful,” he whispered as he began to get lost in the sea of teal looking down on him. Then he shook his head. “B-but still, please be careful about ignoring orders in the future. I can’t always intervene to keep you from being dismissed.”
“Oh, you want me to stay around, do you?” Guydelot flashed a mischievous grin.
Sanson gulped. Of course he did, yet a realization began to dawn on him that perhaps he wanted the bard to work with him for more than just professional reasons.
“You just couldn’t bear it if I suddenly went off to live my remaining days as a traveling bard somewhere else?” Guydelot tucked a finger under the hyur’s chin and tilted his head up.
Sasnson’s mouth went dry. Those lips were so enticing, and the elezen’s touch sent a shiver down his spine. Do I really want to kiss him? This aggravating bard, who is constantly a thorn in my side… and yet…
“You saved my life,” Sanson whispered.
Guydelot’s face turned red, and he quickly took a step back. “W-well, yes, c-couldn’t do to be without our chief, and…” He coughed and covered his mouth.
Oh, that was a foolish thought. Sanson sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. He’s a bard, a flirt, just like the rest of them. He couldn’t possibly feel the same way…
Guydelot muttered a soft curse. “S-So you came out here to practice not getting caught, is that right?”
“Yes, that’s correct.” Sanson frowned. “Do you wish to assist me or not? Seems you’re already occupied with archery practice anyway.”
The bard suddenly seemed agitated, running a hand through his hair and staring down at his feet.
“If you want me to leave and let you resume your practice, just say something, Guydelot.” Sanson crossed his arms. “I’m not in the mood for games.”
“I saved your bloody life because I care for you!” Guydelot suddenly shouted. “When it was clear that the Adders were going to leave you for dead, I took everything into my own hands. If no one had agreed to join me on the rescue mission, I’d have gone in myself. I couldn’t bear to think about going on little quests without you.”
Sanson’s eyes widened. “Y-You…”
“Have feelings for you! Yes, I care about you, Sanson.” He ran both hands through his hair this time. “Now it’s out in the open. I’m sure there’s some protocol you’re going to cite about why I shouldn’t have said anything but there you are.”
Sanson closed the gap between them and gently grabbed the sleeves of his jacket. “Guydelot, if I’m ignoring bed rest orders, then there are clearly other potential orders I can get myself to ignore.” He smiled up at the taller man. “I was… so happy to see you come to my aid.”
Guydelot’s cheeks flushed once more. “Were you, now? You certainly seem quite happy at the moment.”
“I am quite happy at the moment.” Sanson hesitantly pressed his chest a little closer. “I care for you, as well, Guydelot, even if you can be a bit infuriating at times as a soldier.”
Guydelot grinned. “Well, I’m certainly quite happy to be in this position, but I’d be even happier if I could kiss you right now.”
Sanson reached up toward him in an invitation, and the two pressed their lips together. Sanson realized that he had to stand on his tiptoes to reach, but Guydelot bent down a bit to help close the distance.
“That was nice,” Sanson whispered. “Could I have another?”
The elezen smiled softly and kissed him again, this time reaching around his waist to press him closer into his chest. Sanson let out a sigh and wrapped his arms around him.
“I imagine you wanted to practice not getting caught by bandits or such, but does it also help to practice not getting caught kissing a handsome elezen bard in the woods?” Guydelot smirked.
“I suppose I could use a bit more practice in that area, as well,” Sanson replied, taking his hand. “Perhaps we could repurpose that target you’ve set up to be able to kiss somewhere more comfortably?”
“Mmm, I like what you’re thinking.” Guydelot led them over to the target and sat down, pulling Sanson into his lap. Only the local birds managed to sneak glances to catch the two as they kissed and cuddled against the tree trunk for the rest of the morning.