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“Remember,” Haurchefant said as they stepped up to the grand entrance of the Haillenarte Manor, “we will be announced, and then we’ll formally greet our host, Lord Barendouin. He knows you, he will be genuinely happy to see you - a friendly face, yes? After that, there will be a time for informal greetings to others, as we circulate the room once, and then the dancing will begin.” He touched Iriya, on her back; his hand was warm even through the velvet of the wrapped shawl that protected her shoulders against the Ishgardian cold. “You can handle this, and you do not face a room full of foes - nor even a room full of strangers. I will be nearby, as will my father and both my brothers, and your other friends among the Houses. It’s only a party, my dear friends. There’s nothing to fear.”
Iriya didn’t reply, but she glanced at her friends as the four of them stepped inside, and tried to firm up her nerves. Tataru looked entirely adorable in a pink gown with some kind of lacework on the bodice and a shawl over her shoulders; she had fixed her hair with lots of little pink pearls and white flowers in it. Iriya’s own hair was simply styled with a pair of dark blue combs that sported a few glossy black feathers, adding a nice flourish just above her pale horns. Where on earth the Lalafellin girl had found all those ornaments, the dragoon had no idea, but she was grateful to at least have a relatively comfortable hairstyle. Her own gown was midnight blue and very beautiful - but the stiffened bodice was nothing like her familiar armor, and she felt exposed and foolish and utterly out of her element as she let the hall-servant take her shoulder wrap. The sudden cool air against her shoulders and collarbone made her anxiety flare for a moment.
But then she felt a hand on her arm, and looked over at Alphinaud.
He looked somber, but very handsome, in a black velvet outfit with red embroidery at the cuffs and hems - House Fortemps colors, but they flattered him almost as well as his favorite blue. He smiled at her, and then set her hand in the crook of his arm. “You look wonderful, my friend. Please, relax. This will be only a few hours - and then we can return home and be ourselves once more. Yes?”
Iriya managed to smile back, and nodded once. He patted her fingers, and then Haurchefant was stepping forward, with Tataru beside him. The Lalafellin girl’s head was held high and proud, and she looked so comfortable, so confident, that somehow it made Iriya feel a tiny bit better.
“ Ser Haurchefant Greystone, Mistress Tataru Taru ,” a sonorous voice called out - Iriya saw the man as she and Alphinaud reached the door, and understood that his sole job was to announce who was walking into the room. What an odd custom! But she had no time to think on it, for Alphinaud’s steady pace was carrying the two of them over the threshold, and -
“Master Alphinaud Leveilleur, and Mistress Iriya Arene…Warrior of Light.”
Every eye in the room seemed fixed on the two of them, and for an instant Iriya felt her heart might stop beating. She had faced horrific monsters with less concern!
Alphinaud’s fingers pressed hers, steadying her, reminding her that she was not alone and that no one here had any intent to harm her.
She noticed four of the Heavens’ Ward Knights in the crowd, and revised that thought. No one here wanted to hurt her right now . Not in front of so many others. She recognized Ser Zephirin from her strange audience with the Archbishop, and Charibert - the other two were less familiar, but all four of them wore identical, polite smiles. Similar smiles graced the faces of several men in the white robes of the Halonic priesthood. She shivered at the ice in those expressions.
But she could not fail to notice how the other guests kept a discreet distance from the Knights and the clergymen alike - could not miss the little sideways glances that told her no one else was very comfortable around these persons. And the priests did not change their expressions at all when they turned their eyes away from Iriya - so it wasn’t just her they disapproved of.
Even as her gaze raked across the room, Alphinaud continued to lead her forward, and then they were standing in front of Lord Barendouin Haillenarte.
“I’m very glad you graced us with your presence,” the older man said to Iriya. Alphinaud let go of her, and the old lord took her hand in his and bowed over it. His green eyes glittered at her as he smiled. “My entire family will ever be indebted to you for saving my son’s life, Mistress Iriya.”
“Oh,” she hesitated, and then noticed Francel standing right beside his father. His grin was open and welcoming, and she couldn’t help but smile back. “I was glad to be able to help,” she managed, returning her attention to the older lord. “Thank you for inviting us to this, ah, gathering.”
Lord Haillenarte smiled, a friendly and kind smile, and patted her hand before he let her go. “Pray enjoy yourself,” he told her. Alphinaud began to speak with the old man, but Haurchefant beckoned to Iriya, and claimed her hand to set it on his own arm.
“Come,” he murmured to her, “let us walk about the room a bit, to see and be seen. It is the primary goal for the evening, after all.”
Iriya did her best to keep her expression calm and pleasant as he took her around the room. One of the older lords stared at her, openly, but did not approach them; Haurchefant paid him no heed, and so the dragoon tried to do the same. The stares of other guests were simply curious, and much easier to bear.
But just as they approached the front of the room once more, lively music began to play. It took Iriya only a moment to comprehend where the players were - in a gallery above the entryway - but her glance also granted her the sight of Estinien.
She might not ever have noticed him, for he stood so still; clearly he was on guard duty. Tucked into a shadowy spot between two pillars, he somehow managed to look completely formal and entirely bored, but she smiled to see him anyway, thinking of their conversation in the Mists. She was fairly certain none of their friends were aware of the change in her relationship with the Azure Dragoon - so she took care not to stare at him too long.
Even so, he noticed her - and as their eyes met across the room, he gave her the tiniest nod. A burst of warmth filled her chest, and she felt only half as awkward and nervous, as if magic had been cast over her.
As the music grew louder, the central area of the hall emptied - people moving to the sides to open the space for dancing. Iriya saw Alphinaud leading Tataru out onto the floor, he being just about the only person in the room who wasn’t too tall to partner her for a dance. Other pairs came onto the floor as well, and Haurchefant smiled down at her. “May I have the honor of the first dance with you, my dear friend?” He leaned down just enough to murmur into her ear. “And perhaps make Estinien a touch jealous, hm?”
She huffed a silent laugh and pretended to swat Haurchefant’s arm, as he chuckled. Then, she let him lead her onto the floor just in time for the music to settle into a proper waltz rhythm.
Once more she blessed Haurchefant in her mind. He was an excellent dancer - and a good teacher as well - or even the intensive evening spent learning to waltz would have done Iriya no good. But with him smiling at her, she was able to recall the steps, and concentrating so hard on not making a fool of herself banished what remained of her stage-fright.
And when the song ended, she had no chance to remember those nerves, for Artoirel appeared right at Haurchefant’s elbow, and solemnly asked her for a dance as well. Even as she nodded, she saw Tataru heading for the collection of tables off to one side of the room - a place for the ladies to sit and rest, and clearly a hotbed of gossip. Tataru would have no trouble at all finding conversations.
As Artoirel took her waist and began the dance, the dragoon caught a glimpse of Alphinaud - surrounded by Ishgardian maidens not much older than himself, every one of them smiling and batting their pretty eyelashes at him. The scholar looked both smug and a bit overwhelmed, and Iriya hid her smile.
Estinien watched the festivities with closer attention than usual - but how could he not pay attention, when Iriya was present, and looking like that?
He noticed Aymeric approaching him, but paid the Lord Commander little heed. His ice blue eyes remained fixed on the Warrior of Light as Artoirel swirled her about the room.
The gown she wore bared her shoulders and her collarbone; her scales and her skin shone under the light, gleaming like pearls against the dark midnight blue fabric of the dress. The skirt portion of the gown sparkled as it swung with the motion of her dancing, as if spangled with stardust of gold and silver. The feathers in her hair fluttered, and she moved with such grace that even a few of the other ladies dancing were giving her slightly envious looks.
“She looks beautiful,” Aymeric murmured.
Before he could catch himself, Estinien nodded. “Aye.”
Then he cast a glare at Aymeric, but the Lord Commander blithely sipped his wine, ignoring his friend’s dagger-like stare. “I am pleased that the gown suits her so well. It was among my mother’s wardrobe - a gown she designed, though not for herself. She never found a maiden worthy of that gown…but perhaps I have.”
“Aymeric, what are you playing at?” Estinien kept his growl quiet, but Aymeric flashed him an unrepentant grin.
“Nothing at all. Your secret is safe with me, old friend.” He finished the wine in his glass. “I need not remind you of all that stands between you and the Warrior of Light - duty and danger alike. But be assured that I wish you both nothing but the best, in whatever ways you might find to appreciate each other.”
Estinien turned his face away, retreating further into shadow, concealing the sudden hectic heat in his cheeks. “Bah,” he grumbled. “You are too sentimental, Aymeric.”
“Perhaps, but I am content to be so.” Aymeric clapped Estinien’s shoulder. “Pursue happiness with her, my friend. Don’t waste time worrying over the rest.”
“Duty must come first,” Estinien answered. But his eyes were back on Iriya again, and his mouth felt dry.
“Indeed it must. But every duty does have its end, Estinien. It is no bad thing to claim what joy you can, and to look now and again towards the days when the war is over, when you may lay down your lance and rest at last.”
Estinien turned his head, and met Aymeric’s eyes. “Are you so certain, then, that we can accomplish such a miracle?”
Aymeric nodded towards the dance floor, where Iriya was now dancing with another lord. “With the Warrior of Light as our ally, I have faith that somehow, someday, we can. And we will.”
And with that, Aymeric stepped away, leaving the Azure Dragoon to watch the room - and wonder.
She had only just finished her wine when four of the younger nobles approached her. Young men, all of them, and they greeted her with smiles and quick introductions. Too quick: she didn’t catch even one of the names that came at her like arrows in battle. Their gazes were eager and excited - she couldn’t help but think of puppies swarming a new person. “Milady Iriya,” one of them said, “we have heard so many stories of you - would you object to answering a few questions for us all?”
“Um, I - I suppose,” she floundered, trying to keep her composure.
“Emmanellain says you took on an entire village of bird-men and vanquished them all!”
That made her laugh, though it was a jagged and nervous sound. They were too enthusiastic - and they were all beginning to crowd in on her, forgetting themselves in their excitement. “No, I didn’t take on the whole village - and we didn’t really vanquish anyone, but we did have a narrow escape.”
“Are you going to stay in Ishgard?” the first young man asked her. “Are you going to help fight the Dravanians and drive back the Horde for good?”
Her blood ran cold at that question. She swallowed once, and tried for a smile to hide the way she had begun to shake.
“Milady Iriya. Might I have a word, if you please?”
She looked up and nearly gasped aloud in relief to see Estinien shouldering his way past the young noblemen. The boys winced away from the Azure Dragoon, their eyes filled with equal parts hero-worship and terror.
It took all her self-control to keep her voice cool, polite, and calm as she replied to him. “Of course, Ser Estinien.”
He took her by the arm and tugged her away from the group and directly towards a set of tall glass doors. The glass was frosted over from the chill of the night, but without hesitation, Estinien all but dragged Iriya outside onto the balcony.
There were enormous urns on this balcony, containing carefully trimmed rose-trees; they framed a view of the Haillenarte gardens, which even on this frigid autumn evening held beauty in the riot of red and gold leaves upon the maples and birches. Lanterns made little islands of light among the shadowed trees, and Iriya let the sight soothe her further.
She took deep breaths of the icy air. The hall had become warmer and stuffier as the evening progressed, and only now did she realize how much that fact had contributed to her growing discomfort.
Behind her she heard the clink of mail, and then Estinien’s hands were on her shoulders. His touch was warm and his voice was gentle as he turned her towards him. “You are safe,” he murmured to her. “I’m right here.”
She leaned her forehead against him for just an instant, and let him hold her. His grip was so light - as if she were a bird in his hands, but a bird that he was willing to let fly at any moment. The feeling of safety and the feeling of freedom seemed as if they ought to exclude each other. But at this moment, all her feelings were simply…right. As natural as her heartbeat, and as necessary.
Estinien pushed back an urge to lean closer, to breathe in. She didn’t need to be crowded once again.
He had seen the look in her eyes - the growing panic as those foolish young brats had pushed in on her. He had no doubt the youngsters meant her no harm. But they had also paid no attention to the signals the slender woman was giving.
Therefore he had stepped in. He felt her shaking beneath his hands, and was quietly glad he had snatched her away. He told himself that he had done it for her benefit - not at all because he wanted some portion of her attention fixed solely on him. Not an urge to get her alone - no, it wasn’t that, it was only to rescue her from a potential social mishap. He concealed the tiny tremor in his own hands and told himself that it was nothing to do with the way she looked in that gown. Of course not. He was the Azure Dragoon. His will was unbreakable.
She let out a little sigh, and eased back from him, just enough to lean her hip against the stone railing behind her. He let her go, but when she reached for his hands, he tangled his fingers with hers. A quiver of relief twanged through him - their relationship was too new, too fragile, for him to feel otherwise. He sternly told all his clamoring emotions to shut up, and focused his eyes on Iriya.
She was looking at the rose-tree beside her, and wearing a wry, slightly embarrassed smile. “I’m not cut out for this,” she told him. “I’m afraid Ishgard’s idea of socializing just does not suit me.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and her smile widened. “I much prefer the lance to making idle conversation.”
The humor in her comment made him smile in answer. “A sentiment I can thoroughly agree with.”
Her violet eyes dropped to regard the skirt of her dress, and she freed one hand to run her fingers across the spangled fabric. Even in the dim light on the balcony the dark cloth seemed infused with stars. “This is such a lovely gown,” she sighed. “But it does not feel right.”
“No one would know your discomfort to look upon you,” Estinien said. “One could easily believe you were brought up among the finest families. You looked very confident in there…” He swallowed once, and allowed himself to say the rest. “And very beautiful.”
Color stained her cheeks as she gazed up at him, her pretty lips curving in a gentler smile. She squeezed his fingers, and said, “Thank you, Estinien.” Then she trailed one finger along the wrist of his drachenmail and gave a wistful sigh. “You are on duty…or I would ask you to dance with me.”
As if answering her words, music began once more inside the hall. Estinien smiled. “Well, there is no one here to object,” he said, “and so I shall oblige you.”
Iriya smiled with honest delight as he took her waist, and they began to dance.
The tune was muffled by the glass doors, of course, but they hardly cared; they could hear enough to keep the rhythm, and they needed nothing more.
But as the song wound on, they moved more and more slowly, until at last they simply stood in each other’s arms. Estinien gazed down at Iriya, and she watched his expression with a tiny smile on her lips. He held her closer, and she tipped her head back, lifting up on her toes.
He began to lower his head, and her eyes half shut in anticipation.
From inside, there was a sudden crash of glass, and the sound of several women crying out in dismay. Then, clearly even through the balcony door, a man’s voice, drunkenly shouting, “Fury take you!”
Iriya bit back a giggle. It seemed that even in Ishgard there were fools who could not behave once they got a bit of alcohol in their bellies.
Estinien rested his forehead against hers. “Duty calls,” he sighed, but there was a chuckle beneath the resignation.
“You should go and do your job,” she agreed, but she didn’t release him.
He opened his eyes. Their faces were so close that she could see the tiny streaks of darker blue in his irises. She realized she could feel him trembling, the faintest tremor in his hands.
He growled under his breath, and then tugged her to him, and set a firm kiss on her lips. “Keep this as a promise,” he murmured against her mouth. “For after we have finished Nidhogg.”
He brushed his lips across hers one last time as he let her go - and then he straightened, and stepped away.
“Thank you for the dance,” Iriya told him.
Another crash of breaking glass came from inside, and Estinien sighed. “Back to work with me. Good night, Iriya.”
“Good night,” but she was speaking to empty air already, as the Azure Dragoon moved with his usual alacrity to go settle whatever fight had broken out.
Iriya turned back to the garden view for a moment, and took a few trembling breaths. “After we have brought Nidhogg down,” she whispered. Only a task that had defied every Ishgardian knight for a thousand years. No problem.
It would still be easier than waiting for more than a kiss or two from Estinien.
She couldn’t help herself, she let out a low laugh - part frustration, part joy, part self-mockery. Then she took one more breath, and steadied herself. She was more than ready to leave this silly gathering, but she would still need to go back inside to do so - and likely would need to thread her way through the crowd to get to the door.
“Ah, there you are, I was beginning to worry.”
She turned with a smile for Count Edmont. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I just needed a little air.”
“Reasonable enough,” he smiled back. “I must say, Iriya, you’ve done quite well this evening. Better, perhaps, than many a nobly-born maiden at her first major social event.” His smile turned a touch mischievous. “And there is no shame in needing the timely intervention of the Azure Dragoon.”
Iriya hoped her face wasn’t too red. She kept her tone light, almost laughing. “He was most kind to notice my - minor distress.”
“Estinien has ever been sharp of eye,” Edmont nodded, “though some might prefer that he lose his habit of - swooping in.”
Iriya let herself laugh aloud. “Perhaps such habits are merely part of a dragoon’s nature.”
“Perhaps so.” Edmont grinned. “Shall we go in? This old man would claim one last dance with his adopted daughter before we retire for the evening. The ah - impromptu entertainment - has concluded.”
The Warrior of Light grinned back. “It would be my pleasure.”