Archive of Our Own

He should be elated, overjoyed, ecstatic even - finally reunited with his beloved younger brother after years of chasing his shadows, always a step or two behind his trail.

And he is, in a way, happy to see him…

..but not so much with you.

The Fire Dominant had been looking forward to the two of you meeting – two important people in his life coming face to face. He’d spent the trip back to the hideaway telling Joshua about the characters within, speaking of you more often than the others, regaling his younger brother with stories of your skill, bravery, compassion, wit.

Clive didn’t know what to call the relationship between the two of you, if there was a word even for it. There was always some pressing matter that had stopped you progressing to courtship, something holding the two stagnant. Touches were often, flirtatious sometimes, but never progressing further than firm grips on each other’s shoulders in reassurance, or hands clasped in momentary comfort. There had been an almost kiss, he thought, after a tumble in the Royal Meadows. A misstep had sent you falling and in his panic to try and catch you Clive had ended up falling too, cushioning your fall. You were leant over him, breathing slightly heavy from shock, faces inches apart and he’d thought if he lifted his head, he could kiss your lips…

Until Torgal had come bounding in, nosing his snoot behind the two of you and giving his master a lick on the face.

Joshua, however, had waltzed in and easily done what Clive had never had the courage to do. Upon introduction, the Phoenix had dropped down to one knee, taken your outstretched hand in way of greeting and pressed a soft kiss against the back of it, all whilst maintaining eye contact.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

Clive had never seen you look so flustered, causing his stomach to tighten in knots. Why couldn’t he be the one making your cheeks flush?

Joshua gets back to his feet, his hand holding yours all the while before he lets go – it feels an eternity to Clive. But, then again, why shouldn’t you be charmed by the Phoenix? Everyone else had always been. The golden-haired, blue-eyed boy had been adored by the people of Rosaria, the pride and joy of his mother’s eye. Joshua always had a natural charm about him.

He’s happy Joshua’s alive and here. He reassures himself of the thought over and over, as if the Gods might overhear and punish him somehow. The weighty guilt has alleviated from his shoulders after all those years, but now, too soon, a new worry is ready to take hold.

What if you liked Joshua? What if he liked you?

“It is nice to put a face to a name. My dear brother could hardly speak of none other on our journey.”

“Oh. All good things, I hope.” You smile at Clive, but he doesn’t notice with his stare fixed firmly on Joshua.

“Why, of course, my lady.” Joshua grins, boyishly. “I wouldn’t have permitted otherwise.”

--

Clive doesn’t know how to handle the jealously building within. From that first meeting, it doesn’t seem like a day goes by without him finding the two of you in each other’s company, in various places across the hideaway. He’s come across you in the shelves for hours, visiting the chocobos on the upper deck, admiring the flowers down in the backyard. You’d even been in the infirmary with him on a number of occasions as Tarja insisted on regular check-ups.

Clive knows he’s letting his temper getting the better of him, that it’s dangerous because Ifrit tenses beneath his skin. He’s been storming about the Hideaway all morning, despite having no errands to do. Everyone seems to have picked up on his mood, withholding their requests in fear of being snapped at.

Everyone except you, apparently.

“Clive! There you are.” You appear at his side, your hand grabbing his arm. He hates how you can make him feel like Ramuh’s channeling through his veins with your electric touches.

“Sorry, can’t stop.” He grunts in response, trying to shrug you off. He doesn’t want to lose his temper at you.

“That’s okay,” you say, cheerily. “I can walk and talk.”

He stops then, meeting your gaze. “Why don’t you talk to Joshua?”

“Sorry?” The confusion in your voice is apparent, and he knows that should be his cue to stop, but he can’t.

“You seem to do nothing else but these days…” The words flow out of him like lava, they burn his throat but he can’t stop now the dam has burst. “..to the detriment of your duties.”

“Detriment?” The confusion is gone, defensiveness taking hold in the place of hurt. “Do forgive me, I wasn’t aware the quality of my work was being questioned.”

“Well, it is. Have you forgotten what we’re fighting for? Every day we delay, another Bearer dies whilst you…” He swallows. “Whilst you flirt.”

Jealousy has coated his tongue and poisoned his words.

“Flirt? I…” You swallow your sentence down, not wanting to entertain this further.

“Allow me to rectify my shortcomings posthaste, my lord.” Your voice is tight, hands clenched, heart breaking. You steady your breath and spin on your heels, heading towards the mess.

The jealous monster in Clive’s stomach settles for a moment of clarity, his stomach sinking at the realization of what he’s done, what he’s accused you. He strides after you, reaching out a hand to apologise, your name on the tip of his tongue to be called out to beg forgiveness. But, at that same moment, he sees Joshua interrupting your ascent up the staircase, taking note of your sour expression. The Phoenix places his hand on your shoulder in concern, and the jealous monster rages once more.

--

Later that afternoon, Clive has sequestered himself in his chambers, dealing with a pile of missives that he has allowed to build up over the past few days. The task is doing nothing to alleviate his sour mood after that awful interaction with you earlier. A number of them are thank you notes for the hideaway’s assistance in matters and more than a few mention you specifically by name, all dated on instances you’d stepped in in his absence.

And he’d accused you of neglecting your duties, of all things. He rubs his temples in exasperation. What has he done?

There’s a knock at the door.

“What?” He barks, hoping the tone of voice might deter them.

The door opens. “Brother.”

He looks up to see Joshua shutting the door behind him as he enters, a charming smile on his face as usual.

“You should be resting.” Clive chides, looking back down at the missives.

“I am fine.” Joshua folds his arms. “I am, however, concerned about you.”

“Don’t be.”

Joshua hums in interest. “You seem almost irritated by my presence of late.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“I do not believe I am.” A pause. “And I speculate it is to do with my interactions with a certain maiden.”

“No.” He jabs the quill into the ink bottle with a little too much gusto. “I’m happy for the two of you.”

“Happy?” Joshua sounds confused.

“The two of you have grown very close. You’ve been spending a lot of time together - I’d be blind not to notice.”

Joshua laughs – a chuckle from deep within his chest - and Clive’s grip tightens on the quill. “Forgive me, brother. Do you think I am pursuing a courtship?”

“What you are pursuing is none of my concern.”

“I believe there has been a misunderstanding. Yes, we have been spending a fair amount of time together, but not for the reason you seem to so firmly believe. You see..” he uncrosses his arms and places his palms flat on the desk, leaning forward. “..I wanted to find out more about the woman who had so clearly stolen my dear brother’s heart.”

“What?” He looks up and Joshua has the audacity to look amused.

“We were talking about you. I had the impression you sought my approval with your tales of her. I must’ve misunderstood your intentions.”

“I… have been a fool.”

“Mayhaps.” Joshua steps back, folding his arms once more. “But she finds you endearing, or so I’ve gathered.”

“My apologies, Joshua. I don’t know what drove me to this madness.”

“I do.” He smiles. “You’re in love with her, brother. You were jealous.”

“I must apologise…” He gets to his feet with such force the chair almost goes toppling to the ground.

“Ah, she’s not here. A stolas arrived from Martha, I believe. Trouble with bandits – she took the skiff out shortly after.”

“Alone?”

“Otto suggested she wait, but she seemed determined to handle it.”

“I must go.” He makes to move past Joshua before he pauses, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Forgive me, brother.”

“Forgiven.” Joshua nods. “Go.”

--

Clive heart pounds as he ascends the steps to Sleeping Chocobo, pushing the double doors open. It is busy this evening, the townsfolk preferring the warm atmosphere of the inn than their homes. He’ll speak to Martha, he thinks, see where you went, beg forgiveness so that maybe he can meet his eyes again without feeling awful.

“That was quick,” Martha greets to Clive’s confusion as he approaches the bar. “I barely sent that stolas.”

“Sorry, what stolas?”

His heart stops as he hears the combination of your name and injured in the same sentence.

“Now before you panic, she’s all right. The Bloodaxe miscounted – said it was only three bandits but it turned out to be five, otherwise I would’ve never sent her out on her own. We’ve patched her up and fed her, but she seemed upset about something. I didn’t feel right letting her traipse off in the night like that, so I sent a stolas asking if someone could accompany her back. She’s upstairs at the moment - room two.”

“Thank you, Martha.” He turns to head towards the stairs when the sliding of a key across the bar stops him.

“I might’ve locked her in. I thought it might be morning before someone could reach here and she was so determined to leave.”

“Ah.” Clive nods, taking the key. “I understand. Thank you.”

He walks past the patrons and climbs the stairs towards the rooms. His heart is pounding, what does one even say in this situation? He finds room two and slides the key into the lock, twisting it and opening the door.

“Finally! Martha, you must agree this is ridiculous…” You stop as you see Clive enter the room, looking apologetically awkward. He shuts the door behind him, blocking it with his frame. You’re not sure if it’s deliberate.

“I’m not neglecting my duties.” You protest, standing up from the bed in defiance. “Martha locked me in. I could’ve kicked the door in, but I thought Otto would’ve given me an earful if he saw it on the expenses.”

He hasn’t taken in anything you’ve said, too concerned by your appearance.

“You’re hurt.” There’s a bruise blooming on your cheek, a bandage wrapped around your forearm - the guilt in his stomach is as if he had inflicted the wounds upon you himself.

“I’m fine. They told me it was three bandits – I clocked the fourth but the fifth snuck up on me.”

“Where are they now?” His fist clenches – the idea of anyone laying their hands upon you with malicious intent…

“Dead. I had no choice.” You cross your arms in defence. “Why are you here - come to check on my conduct?”

To your surprise, he drops down to his knee, bowing his head, as a knight does when they swear fealty. “I came here to apologise. What I said was not only untrue but entirely uncalled for. I can only beg for your forgiveness.”

“There’s no need for that, I’m not your Lord Commander.”

“You should be.” Clive looks up. “The missives recently speak of the exemplary nature of your work and conduct.”

“Tell me - what is this truly about, Clive?”

“It’s immature.” He doesn’t want to say it, but he knows he must be truthful now. “You and Joshua always seemed to be in one another’s company of late.”

“That’s true – I’m afraid I’ve been rather taken with his stories of your younger years together, but I don’t understand the connection.”

“I… I was jealous. You seemed rather taken by his greeting.”

“Greeting?” You look puzzled for a moment, before it clicks. “It… That had just never happened to me before. No-one ever greets a Bearer in such a way.”

“Allow me to rectify.” He takes your hand without thought, bringing his lips to the back of it in a kiss, staring at you with those deep blue eyes. Your face burns. “Can you ever forgive me, my lady?”

“You said you were jealous.”

“I did.”

“Jealous that perhaps me and Joshua were… something more?” He’s still holding your hand.

He takes a breath to steady his nerves. “Yes.”

“All right. I’ll forgive you - on one condition.”

“Name it and it is yours.”

You pull him up back to his feet. “Kiss me.”

Clive does not need told twice. It’s a fierce kiss – his arms wrap around your waist as he lifts you up slightly to meet his lips in a crushing embrace, you tangle your hands in his scruffy hair, trying to pull him closer. It’s clumsy and frantic, allowing your emotions to be carried away at long last.

Clive steps back, his calves colliding into the edge of the bed and he pulls you down, you straddling him between your thighs as you break the kiss on the impact.

You look down at him, catching your breath as he looks up at you with a handsome grin.

“I believe Martha’s intention was for me to have this room for the night, my lord.”

“Then, my lady,” he laces his fingers inbetween yours, bringing your entwined hands up to his mouth and placing another soft kiss across your knuckles, “let us take advantage.”