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The knights at Camp Dragonhead have all retreated inside various buildings, staring in awe out the windows. Nobody’s ever seen a blizzard like this, they say- and they’ve seen some bad ones. There’s no seeing past the tip of ones’ nose outside, and this blizzard landed on them like a vengeful spirit, leaving some of them stranded for a terrifying few moments as they tried to find their way to shelter.
As the wind howls furiously and the snow blows sideways- and sometimes up- one person is still outside, muffled in a heavy cloak. The fabric doesn’t do much to keep him warm, really, but he doesn’t care. He’s hunkered miserably atop the battlements, wondering how long it will take him to simply fall asleep and slip away.
After everything he’s been through, surely he deserves such a peaceful end.
One death after another, friends disappearing into the aether forever, the only people he’s ever felt comfortable calling family- most of them are gone, and for those who remain, he feels like it would be better if he simply disappeared. He’s done a great deal of good, but when it’s come at such a steep price, he’s just not sure it’s been worth it.
He hunkers down further and closes his eyes, pulling his hood tighter over his face. He just wants it to be over. He’s done trying to be strong for everyone, done with pretending he’s fine, done with living in a world where the people he love vanish simply because they’re associated with him… or simply because he couldn’t stop it.
Strangely enough, after a little while he stops feeling cold and starts simply feeling drowsy. Part of him struggles against this, knowing that if he falls asleep, that’s going to be the end- but the rest is listless. What’s the point? it asks. What’s going to change? When will this vicious cycle ever come to an end?
A few moments more and he hears a voice calling his name over the wind. Surely he’s hallucinating- one step closer to the end, he prays- because there’s no way anyone can know he’s out here, not in these conditions. The voice draws nearer, and it’s one he recognizes. With a faint gasp and tears welling in his eyes again, the ones from before frozen on his lashes and skin, he looks up.
The one loss that hurt the most, the one he knows he’ll never get over, is that of the person calling his name… Lord Haurchefant de Fortemps.
He and Haurchefant had become close during his time in Coerthas, often staying up late into the night talking about whatever suited their fancy. He hadn’t truly realized that he’d fallen in love until a couple of weeks before his journey to the Aery, and he hadn’t said anything before he left… nor had he said anything when he returned. He’d always thought there was something about the way Haurchefant looked at him, but Haurchefant had remained silent as well, and so he figured if there was something, perhaps it was best to leave it until things settled.
He still remembers the crack of Haurchefant’s shield breaking. He hears it every night in his sleep, when he manages to rest.
The wind howls louder, and he closes his eyes, not hearing the voice anymore. Perhaps it’s almost time, he thinks, and that small part of him that wants to live on rails at him, urging him to get up and go inside. He doesn’t have the strength to move, however, his muscles long since gone stiff from the cold… and he doesn’t have the willpower to try.
Let it end, he thinks. Just let it be over…
Strong hands reach out and grab him by the arms and haul him up, then support him when he pitches forward. He struggles weakly, for all the good it does him, as his savior has clearly not been outside subjecting himself to the elements. He can’t do much other than cry in dismay as he’s dragged inside, and once the heavy oaken door slams shut behind them, his ears ring in the sudden silence.
“What in Halone’s name has gotten into you?” his rescuer demands- it’s Haurchefant’s voice, for certain, and the Warrior of Light smiles faintly.
So this is what death is like… it feels remarkably like being hauled bodily down a hallway and thrown down in front of a fireplace.
“Gods, you’re nearly frozen through,” the elezen lord says, his voice harsh with fear. The Warrior of Light sits silently as his armor is stripped away- it’s a daunting and time-consuming task, the straps and clasps having long since frozen and seized in place.
He feels himself lifted up again, but now he’s too tired to do much of anything, and so he lets himself relax and start to fade away.
“Oh, no you don’t,” the voice says, and warm hands frame his face. “Stay awake, damn you- did you think this was the best way for a hero like yourself to die?”
Dying in general is best, he thinks dryly, but he can’t speak- he doesn’t have the strength.
Long, graceful fingers slide down from his cheek and settle over his pulse, and he hears another curse uttered before the sound of running water fills the room. Now he’s simply confused- this is death?
Well, he supposes, he probably shouldn’t complain about it. It’s what he’d wanted, after all… even though it does feel suspiciously like living.
The last of his rime-covered armor and clothing is stripped away, and he feels himself lifted again- and he nearly plasters himself to the ceiling when he feels burning hot water against his skin. He screams, or at least he thinks he does- it comes out as a barely-audible whimper, and whoever is caring for him (surely it isn’t Haurchefant, he’s dead too, isn’t he? He’s not sure of anything anymore) quickly settles into the water himself and holds him steady.
“Stay awake!” he says firmly. “You really are going to die if you fall asleep like this!”
Each and every moment thereafter is pure, crystalized agony. He is absolutely sure that he isn’t dead now, because death is supposed to be an absence of feeling, not red-hot fire along every single nerve ending. Time seems to slow down and is measured in pained gasps, and he loses track of what’s going on around him in favor of grabbing hold of the pain.
It means something, though he’s not sure what.
He hears Haurchefant call his name again, and then more cursing as he’s lifted up out of the water- and then new voices, ones he doesn’t recognize, and a soft light enveloping him before he sinks into darkness and truly knows nothing more.
Awareness comes back very, very slowly- it’s much like trying to claw himself up out of a drunken stupor, he thinks, only he doesn’t feel much like he’s been run over by a herd of stampeding dhalmel. The popping of wood on the fire is what first catches his attention, and the howling of the wind outside is distant but present. Slowly, he pries his eyelids apart and looks blearily at the ceiling before weakly turning his head. He’d had the most confusing dream… that Haurchefant had come for him, but- that wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined. He’d figured after he died, the two would embrace and go off into the halls of the Fury together.
This isn’t quite that, he thinks.
“Praise Halone, you’re awake,” a heart-wrenchingly familiar voice says. The Warrior of Light blinks several times, but his vision is still blurred… and yet he can make out silver hair, pale blue eyes, a familiar, earnest expression. “I feared you’d gone and left us all behind.”
Left who behind? he thinks to himself. Everyone else has left me behind!
“Here,” Haurchefant says, shifting to sit on the bed and carefully lifting him up, then holding a mug to his lips. “Drink this.”
He obeys, because what else can he do? His body won’t listen to him at all. The tea is warm and tastes good, and once the mug has been finished, Haurchefant sets it aside and stays close, tucking him against his body.
It’s only then that he starts to shake violently, and Haurchefant holds him tighter.
“Easy,” he murmurs. “You’ll feel far worse before you feel better, I fear. Perhaps once you’ve regained your voice, you can tell me what in the name of the Fury you thought you were doing out there.”
He’s silent for a long time, and when he tries to speak, his voice barely works. “You died,” he manages.
Haurchefant sighs. “Yes and no,” he finally says, “but I’ll explain that later. You have more explaining to do than I in this particular moment.”
Everything is a confusing blur, and the Warrior of Light shakes his head weakly. His strength is returning, however, and he finally manages to ask what he’s wanted to all along. “Am I dead?”
“No, thank the Twelve,” Haurchefant replies, his voice gentle and yet oddly choked. “You are alive, my friend.”
Oh.
He thinks that over, feeling like his brain is muffled in wool. “I don’t… want to be here,” he finally manages. “Let me- go…”
Haurchefant shifts so that he’s looking down at him, anger burning in his pale blue eyes. “I did not jump in front of you for you to throw your life away in such a manner- or at all!” he says.
The Warrior of Light shakes his head in disbelief and anguish. “There’s nothing left,” he says, his voice raspy but slowly making a return. “There’s nobody, I don’t- I just… I can’t!”
“Oh, my darling,” Haurchefant murmurs, blinking quickly- and he realizes, looking at him, that there are tears in his eyes. “That’s not true at all… but it must feel that way, after all of this.” He tightens his embrace and shakes his head. “I’m sorry- would that I could have told you the truth sooner… perhaps you wouldn’t have felt quite so bereft of all your friends.”
Now he’s simply confused, and there are tears coursing down his own face again. “I don’t understand,” he manages, his voice breaking on every other syllable.
Haurchefant gently strokes his hair, his voice low and reassuring. “The punishment for killing a lord of a noble house is death,” he says, “regardless of who you are or to whom you answer. I was grievously injured, yes, but Aymeric managed to get me to the healers before Halone could come claim me. We decided- and my father as well, yes- that it was best everyone believe me dead so that Ser Zephirin could be brought low for what he’d done.”
He closes his eyes. Just thinking about all of this is thoroughly exhausting. “Aymeric said he has no authority over the Heaven’s Ward,” he finally croaks.
“He doesn’t, normally,” Haurchefant replies, “but… in the event there’s a murder, even the Heaven’s Ward must take responsibility. Had you not finished them off in Azys Lla, there would’ve been a great deal for Zephirin to answer for, and without their vaunted leader, things would have had to change. Aymeric would have used this situation to demand a change in the authority over the Heaven’s Ward, to make them as accountable as the rest of us. None of us foresaw what the Archbishop would do, however, and so it does seem like this was all for naught. I’ve been hiding here and recovering, but of course everyone likely now knows I’m alive as I had to run and fetch the healers for you.” He’s quiet for a few breaths, then speaks softly. “I’m sorry, my friend. I wanted you to know, but Aymeric refused, and I thought he was right to do so… but had I seen the toll it took on you, I would have gladly defied him.”
Just listening to Haurchefant’s voice makes him feel better, and he slowly manages to lift his head and look up at him. “You’re really alive?” he manages.
“Yes,” Haurchefant says gently, “I really am- and I’ve no plans for that to change any time soon.”
The Warrior of Light smiles faintly, eyes falling closed. “I love you,” he breathes, and then the darkness gently ushers him back down as his strength fades away. He’d finally gotten to say it, and he doesn’t care much about anything else.
The second time he wakes, he feels much more alert. He looks around the room and finds it empty, and he slowly sits up, stretching. He thinks back to what he’d done and cringes- he feels quite the fool- and then sobers as he remembers what had happened after. A dream, certainly… or a hallucination. Someone had definitely rescued him from the blizzard, but it wasn’t Haurchefant, no matter how much he wishes that were the case. There was no surviving the wound he’d taken.
He closes his eyes and bows his head, remembering the elezen lord’s words- I did not jump in front of you for you to throw your life away in such a manner- or at all!, and feels even guiltier. Haurchefant had sacrificed his life for him so that he could go on, could keep fighting, could save Ishgard and Eorzea at large from the threats that loom. The Empire is still a threat, as is Nidhogg and his brood… and much as he wants to rest, his job isn’t over yet. He lifts his head and sets his jaw. He will continue to be strong, he will continue forward… and when he sees Haurchefant again in the next life, he’ll be someone that his beloved can be proud of.
He’s about to rise and dress when the door opens, and he looks over in surprise- and he can’t help the startled sound that escapes him. He leans forward a little, eyes wide, when he sees Haurchefant himself walking in with a tray.
“Ah, you’re awake!” he says cheerfully. “Full glad am I to see it! I was starting to think you might sleep all day, and after what you went through, I wouldn’t have been overly surprised. Exposure to the cold is a dreadful thing.”
He stares, lips slightly parted, in absolute shock. “It was- real?” he finally manages. “You’re alive?”
Haurchefant sets the tray down on the bedside table and settles down on the edge of the mattress. “Yes, to both questions,” he says, his voice soothing. “I’m sure you’re still quite confused after- ah!” Before he can say anything else, the adventurer tackles him, knocking him back onto the mattress- and he exhales, wrapping his arms around him. “Seeing as how you are also alive, my dear… perhaps we should-”
The Warrior of Light pushes himself up and stares down at him, then leans down and kisses him hard. He doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t want to remember, he doesn’t want anything other than Haurchefant’s arms around him and the reassurance that he is, in fact, not alone.
When the kiss breaks, Haurchefant smiles up at him. “I love you, too,” he says simply.
He blushes darkly, remembering what he’d said before passing out, and bows his head before drawing back, letting Haurchefant sit up again. “It all… seemed impossible,” he murmurs, though he knows he can’t truly explain- nor make up for- what he’d tried to do.
“I understand,” Haurchefant replies, reaching out to touch his cheek with the tips of his fingers. He slides them down to his jaw, then draws them through his hair and pulls him close for another kiss. “You’ve not had any time to rest, nor grieve. I fear that we’ve pushed you too hard.”
He shakes his head. It’s his job to push himself, and he’d done it willingly the entire time, knowing that if he failed, hundreds upon thousands of people would die. He’s not entirely sure how to put that into words that make sense, though, and he clasps his hands and looks down at the quilt he’d tugged over his legs. “It’s not that simple,” he finally says. “I’m glad to have done what I have, to have helped people stay alive… but when I lost everyone, when- when I lost you…” His voice breaks, and he swallows thickly before continuing. “I lost myself,” he finally says helplessly. “I didn’t know how to keep going.”
Haurchefant closes his eyes, silent for a little while, then opens them again and gently tips the Warrior of Light’s chin up, meeting his gaze. “All too often we only think of ourselves and what we have to gain from someone else’s actions,” he says softly. “I’m just as guilty as everyone else, in that regard.” When he starts to protest, Haurchefant silences him with a gentle finger resting against his lips. “’tis a knight’s job to serve and protect, and you’ve done that ever since I met you- and before, too. What’s easy to forget is that it takes a toll on a man, after awhile. Here in Ishgard, I fear we are so used to war and sacrifice and loss that we simply turn a blind eye to it and hope that we can keep going long enough to survive. My only thought, when I jumped in front of you, was your survival. I couldn’t bear to see you wounded- or dead- when I could perhaps prevent it.”
“I know,” the warrior whispers, bowing his head again. “What you said last night-”
“I shouldn’t have,” Haurchefant says quietly, “and I apologize, my love. I was angry with you because I failed to see how badly you were suffering- I couldn’t see through my fear of losing you, and I didn’t stop to think about how you must have felt all this time.”
“I never told you how I felt,” he says miserably, meeting the elezen lord’s eyes again. “I never… I thought you had gone without knowing, and I couldn’t stand it.”
Haurchefant smiles and shakes his head. “I knew,” he says softly, “I promise you that- I knew all along. I hope you did as well.”
Looking back on it, the adventurer can see it if he looks at things from the right angle, and he leans against Haurchefant and closes his eyes. “What happens now?” he murmurs.
“An excellent question,” Haurchefant replies, wrapping his arms around him. “I don’t know- but whatever it is, we’ll face it side by side. For now, however, you are staying here with me until you are needed once more… and by the Fury, it had best be awhile, else I will be quite cross with whomever summons you.”
He laughs wearily at that and nods, tucking himself closer. “Good,” he whispers, “because I don’t want to go anywhere.” He pauses, then glances toward the window and shudders. “I think I have a new-found hatred for the cold.”
“Mm… I don’t know,” Haurchefant replies, kissing him on the forehead. “It brought us together, did it not?”
That raises a question in his mind, and he looks at Haurchefant curiously. “How did you even know to find me out there?”
Haurchefant smiles. “I had a dream that you were calling for me in a field of snow,” he says simply. “The rest is by Halone’s grace.”
He’s not entirely sure he believes that, but it will have to be enough. He turns his attention to the food his lover had brought when the elezen lord reaches for the tray and settles it on his lap, and he focuses on that- and him- instead of anything else.
For now, he thinks, he’s content with simply being alive.