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Despite the initial tension and anxiety that had blanketed the cacophony of Lord Edmont’s impromptu family reunion, as the evening wore on that thick miasma was gradually replaced with a much warmer and more inviting sense of camaraderie and kinship. In a way, it reminded Haurchefant of nights spent among the men and women of Camp Dragonhead, sharing tankards of ale and stories among friends as the laughter and sense of home filled the chilly night air. Once his children had been persuaded to release him, Haurchefant readily found himself the center of attention in a much less panic-inducing manner and it was strangely nostalgic to find himself so readily falling back into old mannerisms as though no time had passed at all. Gracing his sister-in-law Rivienne with a charming flourish of a bow and a genteel kiss to her hand as he teased Artoirel for ‘hiding this exquisite flower until I wasn’t around to compete with you’ before doting on both of his nieces and declaring that Ishgard truly did possess the most lovely of treasures and that he hoped Artoirel didn’t strain his sword arm fighting off would-be-suitors for his daughters’ hands.
His own children were a delight beyond any that he could ever hope to measure, and Haurchefant was certain there were not enough bells in the day for him to ask every question he wanted, to learn every little thing about each one of them so that he could know them as well as they seemed to know him. In truth, the only thing that drove him from Fortemps manor barely before the sun rose was the unexpected answer to the dilemma of where he would sleep; when a casual mention that he could take one of the guest rooms until his own room could be properly aired out and readied for him to reclaim in truth was met with voiced dissent from Gabrielle and Imelle. Wasn’t he coming home with them? Surely he would want to spend time getting better acquainted, not to mention they were all quite desperate for the chance to truly know the father who had always been kept alive in the hearts of those who loved him and missed him.
There had been a moment of awkward hesitation, as Haurchefant tried to figure out a tactful way to voice the truth; that he honestly hadn’t thought about where he would stay, at least in the short term, much less on a more permanent basis. Certainly if his own opinion were requested, he could have stated with a degree of comfortable security that he wished to remain wherever Francel was. That the idea of falling asleep with the blonde man in his arms after a long and very emotionally trying day seemed as blissful an idea as any he could have come up with. That he would love nothing more than to lose himself in the feeling if Francel’s warm and pliant body against his, burying his face in wheaten hair and breathing in that familiar scent until he was dizzy with it. But therein lay the difficulty; there had been no discussion of his living arrangements and he hardly intended to burden anyone with his presence if it was not desired in such a manner. For while they had taken steps - few though they had been as of yet - to address the emotional intricacies of their relationship as it were, neither he nor Francel had broached the subject of what the future held for either of them. It was folly to expect to be able to simply walk back into the same place they had been before, and if he were truly honest with himself… Haurchefant didn’t want that. Whether it came from the firsthand knowledge of how brief a span of time that life could truly be, or merely a restructuring of internal priorities hardly mattered to him. All that he knew was that he was committed to Francel in a way that he had never allowed himself to be before, when he’d been offered the chance and had foolishly disregarded it time and time again.
But he certainly could not decide anything on Francel’s behalf, and until they discussed exactly what their respective intentions and expectations were… Well, he couldn’t very well sleep on the street. Gabrielle’s pleading look as she’d awaited his agreement had provided him with a temporary solution at least, and Haurchefant found himself reaching to pet dark hair in a gesture that he only belatedly realized was far too childish for a woman grown. Despite that fact, his daughter didn’t seem to care, focused instead on her delight at his feignedly begrudging acceptance of hospitality. She had to know that he couldn’t have turned their request down even if he’d wanted to, but her smile seemed genuine enough even if he caught the faintest hint of a smirk on her brother’s face.
With the issue of where he would rest his laurels for the next night or so settled, it took less time than he might otherwise have expected to make his farewells to the remainder of his family and at least begin the walk through the familiar streets of Ishgard towards the modest house in the Firmament that Francel had apparently purchased years ago to give the children a home that was truly theirs. A fact that, though it had surprised him at first, had given rise to a number of other thoughts in regards to his own potential future here. Perhaps that would be the answer; he could certainly manage to scrape together the funds to purchase something similar for himself. Nothing ostentatious, but it wasn’t as though he could go back to living in the barracks at Camp Dragonhead, and though he had no doubts that he would be warmly welcomed into Fortemps manor for as long as he wished to stay…the truth of that matter was that regardless of familial bonds, he would begin to feel like an interloper or a charity case after a time and neither of those were particularly palatable to him.
Whatever his ultimate decision proved to be, any thoughts as to the internal debate that he was currently waging with himself were abruptly and almost frantically shelved as a dark shadow soared overhead and long-ingrained instincts kicked in. It hardly mattered that he’d been told countless times that the war was over, that the dragons had been their allies for the past quarter of a century, it was so deeply entrenched into him to crouch and draw the familiar weight of his sword that he momentarily fought the trio of bodies that piled onto him with shouts of protest. The dark blue body of the beast pivoted on a wingtip as the dragon banked to the left and swung around over the wide expanse of the Last Vigil and Haurchefant watched halfway in disbelief as a dark-armoured figure vaulted from its back to land on the flagstones. The dragoon - because of course it was, with a graceful leap like that - spared not a moments’ pause as they landed, sprinting across the flagstones as gauntletted hands reached up to rip loose the clasps on that familiar horned helm. Flinging it aside as the dark-haired young man barreled into him and Zouvant gave his little brother a cheerful bark of laughter in greeting. So that at least explained the haste; this was one of his two absent children and Haurchefant did his best to ignore the great blue anxiety trigger as the dragon settled delicately onto his haunches at the other side of the rotunda and instead to focus on his dark-haired dragoon son. Having met Alwant, that now left only his youngest, and according to Francel Olette was training as a sage and currently abroad in Sharlayan, but she would be home within the next few days.
Alwant was by far the quietest of his children it seemed, more stoic and less prone to the easy chatter that seemed common to the others and in a way the young man reminded him a little bit of a young Estinien as he answered questions in a quiet and almost curt manner. A fact that made him smile when he considered that - again according to Francel’s updates - the last Azure Dragoon was the commander of that particular contingent of dragoons and therefore likely his boy’s mentor. Perhaps that was why that leap he had executed off of Kal Mhyk - the midnight-hued menace’s name, apparently - had struck Haurchefant as so familiar, and he resolved to buy Estinien an ale later in thanks for taking his son under his wing. Though he didn’t voice the sentiment, the dragon seemed to at least realize that he was emphatically not comfortable around it - it? Him? - and made no motion to come closer or somehow engage with their group. Was that even… a thing dragons did? Francel spoke about the dragonets that he’d seen frequenting rooftops as if they were simply children like any other Ishgardian gremlin running about the streets, but he himself found it hard to consider the creatures as sentient beings on the same level as himself and not mindless animals driven by emotion. It beggared belief that not only Ishgard overall, but Estinien had given up his hatred of the Dravanians not only enough to peacefully coexist with them but to call a number of them ‘friend’, and he wasn’t too proud to admit that he felt a little ashamed that he couldn’t seem to manage something that the former Azure Dragoon had accomplished. Though he had to at least allow himself the consideration that Estinien had had significantly more time to change his views, not to mention actually seeing the end of the Dragonsong war rather than ‘waking up’ to find it over. He very nearly jumped out of his skin as Alwant turned towards the dragon with a faint smile and called out something in what sounded to Haurchefant’s ears as a rather musical collection of growls and chirps that was echoed by a similar noise from Kal Mhyk before the dragon dipped his head and then flew off over the rooftops of Ishgard.
“I told him he could go and visit with his mother if he wanted, that I would remain here in Ishgard for a few days.” Alwant explained, not seeming in the slightest bit offended or surprised at his father’s reaction to the Draconic being spoken. And if that fact didn’t just make Haurchefant’s belly twist in a guilty way as he reminded himself that acting scandalized and borderline afraid of the dragon was probably a rather poor show of manners to his son who obviously considered Kal Mhyk a comrade. Clearing his throat in an attempt to diffuse some of his perceived awkwardness of the situation, he raked a hand through silver hair before speaking up.
“So, do… all dragoons ride and speak to dragons now, then?”
The question obviously amused Zouvant as his blonde son bit back a snort of amusement before good-naturedly punching his younger brother in the shoulder and answering for him. “Nah, only the Bregne contingent ride. The Knights Dragoon here in Ishgard hasn’t changed much, with the exception of the fierce competition to join the Bregne regiment. And they do less beating you when you screw up, according to Estinien. Or when you don’t screw up. The Draconic is just because Alwant is an overachiever and a kiss-ass.” He dodged the punch that was thrown at him for that last comment from a scowling Alwant, laughing even harder as he shook his head. “Oh don’t be sore, little brother. We all know you’re an elite among the dragoons, it’s not your fault Yasha de Borel is literally the Azure Dragoon’s daughter. Even your precious mentor acknowledges your skill, Al. You’ve got every right to be proud and we’re proud of you too.”
The flattery would have seemed disingenuous if he hadn’t been able to hear the sincerity in Zouvant’s voice and Haurchefant smiled to himself as he watched his younger son try to decide whether it was worth it to stay riled up at his brother before rolling his eyes and snarling a half-hearted promise to put Zouvant on his ass the next time they sparred if he ever called him a kiss-ass again. That dealt with, his dragoon son sighed and shrugged his shoulders before addressing Haurchefant’s question. “As the idiot said, only the dragoons who are part of the elite regiment in Bregne actually ride dragons, though it’s become commonplace for young dragons to aid in dragoon training by providing themselves as moving targets for blunted lances and new recruits learning how to jump properly. And while most of us know a few words or so in Draconic, it seemed rather ridiculous to ignore a means to strengthen the bond between myself and Kal Mhyk. We may not be at war anymore, but it would be utter folly to disregard a strength that can be developed. Especially when it allows for better communication between dragoon and dragon.”
“I thought it was because of your man-crush on Estinien.”
This time Alwant’s fist connected, and the two men went sprawling across the cobblestones as Gabrielle yelped and Imelle groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Zouvant, do you just like getting punched? One day that mouth of yours is going to get you in big trouble. And I don’t mean the kind you were in a sennight ago when you told both Octavel and Arismont to come to your room on the same night.”
That sounded so familiar it was almost painful and before he realized what was going on, Haurchefant had burst out laughing. The outburst startled the fraternal brawl into stillness and Francel took the opportunity to intervene and drag the two apart with a long-suffering sigh as he fixed both men with his best paternal expression. “Is that really how you want to act in front of your father? Zouvant, there’s a time and a place for jokes. As well as a time to stop. Alwant, you know perfectly well that you can’t answer every slight with your fists. Rather unbecoming of a dragoon, don’t you think? Estinien would be rather disappointed in one of his most talented pupils.”
He should have probably been helping with this whole parenting…thing… but they were hardly little children and the laughter seemed to have cut through a measure of the tension he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying around. Whether they were his sons or not, their bickering and teasing reminded him of better days, days when he’d been a mere Temple Knight among others, forging his own path and carving out a place where he belonged. He’d had comrades then too, brothers in arms if not in blood, and it felt good to be a part of that sort of interaction again even if he was on the fringes.
And probably technically the chaperone, if he was being honest.
As much as he didn’t want to truly undermine Francel, he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to be a more active part of this and he insinuated himself between his sons. Throwing an arm across each set of shoulders with a laugh. “You two remind me of my Temple Knight days. Tomorrow I’ll regale you with all manner of stories of my many exploits, but in return you must do the same. I want to hear all about everything.”
“Not everything, I hope…” He caught the faintly muttered comment as Francel’s cheeks turned red and he did his best to focus on anything else. Never one to miss an opportunity to tease his lover, Haurchefant gave a snort of amusement and leaned over to whisper in Francel’s ear. Lips barely brushing skin he knew for a fact was ridiculously sensitive as he was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and a shiver that ran the length of that supple spine.
“No, my dear… I don’t intend to share how sweetly you come undone for me with anyone.”
His reward for the teasingly lewd comment was a quickly muffled whimper and another surge of colour up the back of Francel’s neck that was completely at odds with the wanton heat he saw burning in blue eyes. Momentarily cursing the fact that they weren’t alone, that he couldn’t spirit Francel away into a convenient alleyway and take him right there against the cold stone wall, he forced the flames back down to a smoldering heat in the pit of his gut. Lust thrumming through his veins in a slow pulsing throb as he made a silent prayer to the Fury that the damned house would stop being on the other side of the entire Holy See because while armour was wonderful for concealing his arousal…it was entirely uncomfortable at the same time. For once it seemed that Halone looked favourably upon his silent entreaty, as the enormous iron gates of the Firmament soon came into view and the gatekeep standing watch waved a greeting to Francel. He didn’t know the man’s name, and he wasn’t really paying attention when Francel greeted him in return, but he did take a moment to admire the intricacies of the mechanical doors when the gatekeep opened a small metal door at roughly eye level and inserted a small key. With a few turns of the key, there was the sound of gears engaging and tumblers thumping before the gates slid open on their own. Sliding on well-oiled hinges and as they stepped through he could glimpse a network of gears and pulleys within the frame of the gates where the mechanism was obviously housed.
“They were made by the Skysteel Manufactory.”
Francel’s quiet explanation drew his rapt attention from the doors and Haurchefant cocked his head to the side as he struggled to remember what little he knew of the organization that House Haillenarte had commanded. Thankfully Francel seemed to recognize his difficulty as the shorter man expounded further for his benefit. “My brother, Stephanivian, was the founder and developer of the machinist’s guild. The doors were his invention, designed to be far more efficient than traditional iron gates. The mechanisms within the frame and the wall itself allows for the doors to be much thicker and stronger without the need for heavy chains or teams of men and chocobos simply to open them. They are also far more secure, as the only way to engage the mechanism is with one of several keys that are kept by the gatekeepers.”
The explanation helped somewhat, and now that Francel mentioned it he could recall what he’d known of Francel’s elder brother; a somewhat eccentric sort, with a fondness for machines and technology and a disregard for the trappings that were considered ‘proper’ for a man of his standing and station. Possessed of a keen sense of humour and a singlemindedness that rendered him somewhat oblivious at times in an endearing sort of way. “I see, so should I assume that your father eventually made peace with your brother’s eccentricities? I seem to remember that they often failed to see eye to eye on many things, Stephanivian’s passion for mechanical constructs included.”
Francel nodded, a small smile gracing his features. “Indeed he did. Though I don’t believe he has ever abandoned some small hope that my brother would one day decide to become a ‘proper knight’ befitting the honour of our house, he did eventually acknowledge the importance of Stephanivien’s dream as an endeavor worthy of a true knight. An acceptance that made them both much happier, though neither might speak of such a thing.” Falling into step beside Haurchefant as they - finally - reached the correct ward and Imelle took the lead, he reached an almost hesitant hand to gently twine fingers with the knight’s more calloused ones. As though he were afraid that the touch would be rebuked until they were well away from the sight of any passersby and Haurchefant felt his heart crack and a thick knot of guilt settle into his throat as he found himself once more reminded of the subtle damage his prior cowardice had wrought. Pushing it aside as he curled his fingers around Francel’s with a tight squeeze that was anything but hesitant. As though daring anyone to suggest that he was in any way ashamed or afraid to be seen in such a way, hoping that the earnestness of his grip would reach Francel as he gently tugged the shorter man closer. Turning Francel in his arms as he slowed to a stop, reaching up with his free hand to brush tender fingers against cheek at the confused expression that greeted him.
“It seems a lot has changed… and for the better. I don’t believe I have had the opportunity to properly express how proud I am of you. Artoirel told me how much of this..” He gestured to the houses around them. “Is due to your hard work and earnest passion for the betterment of Ishgard. It truly is an amazing achievement, my dear.”
Francel’s expression softened as he leaned his cheek against Haurchefant’s hand with a soft smile. “I hardly believe I have done anything worthy of your regard, Haurchefant… but neither will I deny that it means a great deal to me. As do you. You need only ask it of me, and there is nothing I would not do to ease your worries as you find your place in this world again.”
“I have already found the place I wish to be in this world.” Stroking his thumb against Francel’s cheek, Haurchefant swallowed back a lump in his throat as he tried to find the right words. It was entirely ridiculous. Countless times he had wooed men and women both with honeyed words and teasing flirtations. Spinning fanciful promises and glittering compliments as needed to achieve the goal he wanted in the end, and while he had always cared for those he invited into his bed… he had never loved them the way he loved Francel. Save for W’ynter and a few others, there had never been any consideration that it would become more than mutual enjoyment, and he’d been content with that. But now, when every innate fiber of his being told him that the words he spoke now carried the weight of the world in them… those same words escaped him. Fluttering away into the aether like so many petaloudas in the summer breeze and leaving him scrambling to find something eloquent to say that would properly illustrate the depths of his yearning.
“I… Fury be damned, this should not be so difficult…”
The warmth of Francel’s hand covering his sent a tingling thrill through his veins but also brought a soothing sense of home and comfort and Haurchefant sucked in a deep breath before trying again. “I love you, Francel. You know that, I’ve said it at least a dozen times since yesterday and yet… I know that you don’t believe it. A regretful consequence of my own cowardice when it came to facing my feelings for you before I died, but one that I would give anything to go back and change. Yet… I cannot do such a thing. I can only spend every moment henceforth attempting to mend the damage that I caused. Attempting to prove to you that you… you are my world, Francel. I do not wish to be a part of a world where I cannot have you. Where I cannot hold you, touch you, love you. Had I an appropriate token, I would offer myself to you for as long as you would have me. Court you in the manner that you deserve, I… I presume too much, I am certain, but…”
Glancing away from too-blue eyes, he closed his own with a sigh. “I cannot deny their requests for me to stay within your home and grow to know them better, though I had thought to inquire as to lodgings for myself in the barracks for fear of overstaying my welcome. And cowardly though it perhaps is for me to broach such a thing, I had rather hoped… that you would desire my company for a longer span of time…”
Gods, he sounded unbelievably foolish to himself, stumbling over his words and unable even to meet Francel’s gaze. Likely he’d made a right mess of things and soon enough he would find himself being gently rejected in much the same manner that he had rejected so many when they’d attempted to develop an enjoyable and casual arrangement into something more complicated. Something with feelings involved. The touch of gentle fingers against the angle of his jaw had Haurchefant relaxing almost unbidden into Francel’s hand as he felt his face tenderly turned back towards the shorter man. Opening his eyes to see none of the pity or mistrust that he’d expected to see. Instead he only saw love as Francel’s lips curved into a soft smile, his other hand coming up to cup Haurchefant’s face in both of his hands. “Oh, Haurchefant… there has never been a day when I did not desire every part of you. Truly, I do not think you play me false when you say that you love me. But I have spent so long curtailing my own desires that I fear it will take time for me to grow used to not needing to. I will admit that I feared to ask you to stay, though not for a lack of wanting. Rather, I feared that after so long mourning you… yearning for the days we could no longer have…that I would overwhelm you in my ardor. Even now… the thought that perhaps you would rather be free…that you would prefer to continue as we did for years…haunts me. Because my heart craves you so desperately that I fear it is too much to ask of you.”
Leaning up, he softly pressed his lips to Haurchefant’s in a kiss that almost brought tears to the silver-haired knight’s eyes with how much emotion it managed to convey. “I have loved you since I was a youth, Haurchefant. It has always been you, my dear. I have never wanted anyone else, and I want you now as I have always wanted you. Thoughts of you crowd all else from my mind. I ache for your touch as the trees ache for the sun. I need no token of your affection, nor do I require you to court me in any manner simply because you feel it to be proper. Nor need you ask to stay where there has ever been a place for you, beloved. But if it would put your heart at ease, then I would ask you now… stay with us? Stay with me, Haurchefant? For… as long as you are willing to give me, I would have you. And should… you decide that you desire your freedom… I will not stand in your way.”
“Freedom is a cage without you by my side. I have no need for it, Francel.” Voice rough with emotion as he pulled Francel in for a deeper kiss, he pulled back to stare into tear-filled eyes before gently brushing his lips below each one to kiss away the hint of moisture that had begun to spill over. “And if you will have me, then I will stay with you until the day when I am called to Halone’s halls for good, if only for the chance to greet your smile every morning.”
Blinking back more tears, Francel’s cheeks dimpled as he closed his eyes with a soft laugh. Stepping closer to rest his cheek against Haurchefant’s chest with a contented sigh. “My dear Lord Greystone, I do believe that sounds suspiciously like a proposal. Whatever would Ishgard think?” His teasing tone was warm and welcoming, but there was still the hint of hesitation that Haurchefant knew only time would banish from between them. Nonetheless, that acceptance stood not in the way of him as he tipped Francel’s chin up to lock eyes with him, nothing but sincerity in his voice. “I hardly give two shits about what Ishgard thinks, I care what you think. But when I propose to you, I intend to do it properly. You may care nothing for being wooed and courted, but you deserve it, and I intend to see that you have everything that you deserve and more.”
Haurchefant knew it was too much to hope that his words would be enough to wipe away the last traces of insecurity, but he could tell from the way Francel’s breath caught and his blue eyes widened that his intentions had been clearly understood. And the cautious hope in those eyes was humbling to see as he closed the distance between them for another lingering kiss with a whisper against lips. “I love you, Francel… so you’d best get accustomed to hearing it, because I don’t intend to stop saying it every chance I have. Now, as I fear that we will be accosted by our children if we continue to linger out on the street… take me home, Francel.”
"They are not as unaware as you think them, beloved. Or did you not realize it was to give us privacy that they went ahead?" He remarked with a teasing chuckle as Haurchefant's eyes widened and he glanced back towards the house in apparent disbelief. "Or did you forget that they are your children? They are quite aware of the nature of our relationship; they've always been, since they were old enough to ask me if I was their second father because I loved you." With another soft chuckle, he reached to twine his fingers through Haurchefant's with a tight squeeze. "I believe you asked something of me… so… time to come home, Haurchefant."