Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

‘I’ve been authorized to utilize any method of interrogation I see fit. But, out of respect for our previous dealings, I’ll give you one more chance to confess; I’d prefer not to cause you more pain than necessary.’

He says this after he broke her arm.

Rahela’s already trembling madly in pain, and in fear. Gods, everything ached. Ilberd’s ‘interrogation’ had consisted of him mercilessly beating her and demanding that she confess to poisoning Nanamo. She could feel bruises forming where he’d kicked and punched her; her face, stomach, legs, arms… Everything hurt, but the fear and helplessness dwarfed all else. Even though she had gone toe-to-claw with a monstrous dragon more colossal than even the tallest spires of Ishgard and won only days before, the betrayal suffered at the hands of the Crystal Brave captain, someone she’d thought to be a friend and ally, was at this moment more terrifying than Nidhogg himself. Paralyzed by the foul-tasting potion that had been forced down her throat, she could only watch in terror as Ilberd knelt down over her, roughly grabbed her by the nape, and lifted her off the floor to his level, his eyes cold and indifferent.

‘Not saying anything? That won’t do any good, lass. I know how stubborn you are, but now’s not the time to withhold the truth; not even Roaille was this bad. Really, it pains me to see the vaunted, untouchable Warrior of Light reduced to this; a treacherous assassin pretending to be a victim, quivering beneath me as if she were some scared little kitten. You’ve been cornered and declawed, so you might as well confess your crimes. If you’re still going to be difficult, you’ll force me to resort to some extremely distasteful methods,’ Ilberd drew his face closer, squeezing the scruff of her neck even tighter, ‘And you’ll truly feel how vulnerable you are.’

The mage felt her stomach drop and her heart clench. He couldn’t mean that he would… No, no, this was just a bad dream. This can’t be happening! But even as she fumbled with her disbelief, the captain himself slowly broke into a sickening, twisted grin. ‘Rest assured, it’s nothing personal; unpleasant though they may be, I fear this may be the only method that might get you to talk. What say you, hero? It’d be easier for the both of us if you were just confess to your crimes right now.’

Panicked as she was, her limbs were heavy as lead, leaving her helpless to do anything but weakly struggle and try to twist herself out of his grasp. “No, no, I swear it wasn’t me, no, Ilberd, get away, please stop!”

‘Now, little kitten, if you’re going to be like that, I really will have to…’

“Get your hands off me!”

“Rahela…?”

“NO!”

“Rahela, please wake up!”

With a sharp gasp, W’rahela Uillces’ eyes flew open and the vision of Ilberd lifted away, replaced with only darkness and a nearby dim fire; but the mage could still feel the presence of a heavy weight leaning over her. Not registering who else it could be, Rahela thrashed frantically with her good arm to swat the assailant away. “No, get-get away from me!”

Immediately on command, the figure stood up and backed away. But when it spoke again in a low yet gentle, clear and unmistakeable voice, the miqo’te realized her error. “Rahela? Are you alright?”

“H-Haurchefant…” After several deep breaths, the Warrior of Light managed to regain something resembling composure. For a moment she’d forgotten; she and the few comrades she had left had just begun living temporarily in Camp Dragonhead earlier that night. After the few remaining Scions had come to the joint decision that they would go to Ishgard once entry into the city was permitted, Rahela was hurried off to the infirmary. The chirurgeons saw her broken arm mended and strapped into a brace; afterwards she'd been confined to her sickbed for the night. Alphinaud and Tataru, having sustained few, if any, physical wounds; thus they were given beds downstairs and promptly went to sleep, none really in the mood for any more talking. They were both likely too exhausted to be having the same nightmares as her. Looking back to the knight, she nodded. “Y-yes, I’m alright. Forgive me, i-it was just, just a bad dream.”

Lord Haurchefant knelt down beside the bed, clothed not in his usual knightly armor, but instead a simple long-sleeved tunic and trousers. He spoke quietly and hesitantly, audibly concerned. “Pray forgive my intrusion. There’s a good deal of work that needs to be done in preparation for the capital’s defense, but I feared something like this might occur. So I thought it best to keep vigil just outside.” Gesturing to the paper-strewn table in front of the fireplace on the other side of the infirmary doorway, Haurchefant went on, “And sure enough, I heard you talking in your sleep, and what I heard was… disquieting, to say the least.”

It took a moment for this to sink in, but the moment it did, Rah groaned and buried her face in her hand. “What exactly did you hear?”

He shook his head. “I dare not repeat it.” Another few moments of silence. “Rahela… I’m sorry if this is painful to recall, but I must ask… Your arm… Captain Ilberd did that to you, did he not?”

She hesitated for a moment but then nodded, looking away to stare at nothing. It was painful to think about. It had only been a few hours, after all. And yet she still recounted her tale. “Watching Nanamo die, hearing Teledji Adeledji’s accusations, being surrounded by the Brass Blades with no way out… I was overwhelmed by grief, fear, panic, it was all too much. I fainted. When I woke up, I couldn’t move, my staff was gone, and Ilberd was standing over me, demanding that I confess to killing the sultana. When I refused, he broke my arm. And when I still refused to talk, he threatened to do even worse. And he could have. Hells, he was going to! And I would’ve been powerless to stop him!” She spoke with growing disgust at herself, her fists clenching with anger, ashamed that she let it happen. “The only reason he didn’t go that far was because he was interrupted by one of his underlings bursting into the room, talking about the evidence that was planted on me. After that, I was force-fed a silencing potion so I couldn’t cast spells or protest my innocence, and finally dragged into the Fragrant Chamber. And then--” Rahela heard her voice break, forcing herself to remember. What happened to Raubahn, Papalymo, Yda, Y’shtola, Thancred, and finally Minfilia… It was too much. Remembering how she was forced into leaving her family behind the way she did was enough to send tears dripping from her eyes, and a choked sob escaped her throat of its own accord. And now only adding to the shame was the fact that Haurchefant learned how weak she had been. He’d admired the Warrior of Light for her power and determination more than most others…

Rah couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze, but Haurchefant had been listening with ever-increasing horror. He’d heard a summary of the events from Alphinaud, and yet to hear the woman herself tell it… The knight had agreed to take in the Warrior of Light and her allies without a second thought; simply doing what he believed any good friend should, setting aside space for them, making them feel safe and welcomed, and cheerfully assuring them that their circumstances would get better. ‘My home is your home,’ he told her. And he of course meant it. Yet now he began to worry that perhaps he’d been a bit too chipper about this whole situation. Recalling the conversation in the war room, how his voice dripped with smugness, Haurchefant barely bothered to conceal his delight at the irony of the situation; that one of the most inhospitable lands in Eorzea had now become the safest. As if it were some game of hide-and-seek. Granted, it had only been a few hours, but he had not yet given much consideration to the whole extent of his friends’ trauma, and what would happen to Rahela especially were she to be recaptured… Realizing the full weight of what she and the others were so afraid of, it frightened him too. What she described was a torture beyond what all but the most ruthless of Inquisitors could inflict. Just to hear it filled him with dread, quickly followed by a steadily-building outrage. That a valiant hero like her should be framed for such a heinous crime and treated so shamefully, reduced to fleeing for her life and seeking shelter in a frozen, lonely wasteland… Every knightly instinct within him demanded that he storm off, sword and shield in hand, all the way to Ul’dah, give those desert wretches a taste of justice to defend his dear friend’s honor…

But as tempting as it was, as much as his teeth gnashed and his fists clenched on her behalf, it wasn’t his honor to reclaim, not his revenge to take. Though she likely felt that way right now, Rahela was by no means some damsel in distress who needed a knight in shining armor to fight her battles for her; but what she did need was time, support, and protection in order to heal from wounds inflicted upon her, both emotional and physical. Broken and bruised and betrayed as she was, he, of all people, had been the one she’d chosen over anyone else to seek sanctuary. And by the Fury, he would be the one to give it to her.

Eventually, Rahela brought herself to look back at her friend; she couldn’t see his face in the dark, but she felt him gingerly place a hand on her shoulder, and his voice when he finally spoke again was filled with sorrow. “Oh, my dear friend, I’m so sorry…” His hand twitched, as though he were hesitating to move it, but when he didn’t sense the mage recoiling from his touch, (she herself was surprised at that) he slowly drew himself up to sit upon her bedside and wind an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a careful hug. “But please, listen. What befell you and your companions in Ul’dah was not your fault; it was nobody's fault but the traitors’ and the schemers’. And you’ve no more reason to fear them now. It is as I’ve said before; you are not without allies. I shall personally see to it that you have a home safe within the walls of Ishgard, far, far from the reach of your would-be captors.”

“I can’t hide forever,” the seeker muttered. “I’ll have to face Ilberd and the Crystal Braves sooner or later, I just know it. But when I do, what if I just, freeze up, remembering what he tried to--”

“Don’t think about that now,” The knight gently scolded, stroking her hair. “I’m certain you shall face them eventually when the time is right. And I’m doubly certain you’ll win. But until you’re sure that you’re ready to do so, you must focus on healing; both emotionally and physically. Until then, I will see to it that no harm comes to you.” Haurchefant stood up and knelt beside Rahela, taking her small hand with both of his, and gazing straight into her tired eyes, he said, with the all the sincerity with which he took his first vows, “I swear upon my honor as a knight, I will support and protect you with my life.”

Rahela dully stared at the knight, this solemn oath leaving her speechless. Even when he immediately agreed to take her in, as grateful as she was, she still wasn’t wholly convinced that Haurchefant’s support truly was as unconditional as he said it was. Though she’d never doubt that he spoke in earnest, the mage feared what would happen if he or any Ishgardian were to learn of the ‘pact’ that Midgardsormr had forced upon her. ‘He would harbor an assassin,’ she thought, ‘but not a heretic.’ But hearing him now, feeling his calming, gentle touch… He’d keep this promise; he’d die before he would turn his back on her. Rahela was finally sure that she could trust him now. Mere hours ago, the Warrior of Light was at her absolute low, betrayed, abandoned, and utterly alone. But now, though it took considerable effort, she was able to manage a weak, but grateful smile for her new protector. “Thank you, Haurchefant. That means more than you know.”

And Haurchefant returned it in kind, reaching a hand up to ruffle her hair. “There’s that smile. Now, it goes without saying that you need your rest, so you ought to at least try to get some sleep. I shall return to my work just outside, if you need me.”

“No, it’s alright, I’m awake,” Rahela replied, shaking her head and shifting to the edge of the bed so she could stand up.

“Do you need anything? Are you hungry or thirsty?” The knight asks, helping her rise from the bed. She nodded, prompting him to go on, exiting the room as he spoke, gesturing for Rah to follow. “The kitchen is just downstairs, so I’ll get you anything you like.”

“Thank you.” Rahela sat down at a chair by the table in front of the fireplace, taking care not to disturb the paperwork. She was half-lying when she nodded earlier; she didn’t have much of an appetite at the moment, and likely wouldn’t for awhile. But she hadn’t eaten anything at the banquet, and she’d expelled Ilberd’s two paralyzing and silencing potions (if that sickening swill counted as something to drink) from her stomach once she’d escaped the Sil’dihn water tunnel. So as much as her belly said otherwise, she had to put something in it. “Nothing too complicated, though. Perhaps just some bread. Or, do you have hardtack here? I’ve never tried it.”

By now Haurchefant had reached the staircase that led down to the Camp Dragonhead kitchens, but at Rahela’s last suggestion he turned back to face her with a grimace. “Rah, I know I said anything, but I’ll not subject you to eating hardtack. But we do have plenty of bread. Anything you’d like to drink? We have water, wine--”

The mere mention of wine was enough to make her twinge. “Water,” the miqo’te insisted.

Within a minute he’d returned from downstairs with a roll of knights bread and a glass bottle of water. “There you go,” he said. He then sat down on the chair across from hers and resumed his work.

The two sat in silence, with little sound but the crackling of the fire, his quill hurriedly scratching words against the paper, and Tataru’s snoring faintly audible from the first floor. Rahela nibbled at the slightly sweet bread and took slow sips of the cold water, watching Haurchefant at work. Watching him signing forms, filling out requests for supplies, maybe writing missives to the other outposts. The miqo’te thought several times to break the silence and initiate conversation, but decided against distracting him any further. As it was, with Ishgard recovering from two consecutive, deadly Dravanian assaults, it was surprising that he had any time to spare for her at all. Maybe she ought to just go back to bed. But if she did, she might have more nightmares…

“Rah?” The knight’s lilting voice recaptured her attention, and she looked up to see he’d opened a blank piece of parchment in front of him. “Pardon me for asking this out of nowhere, but is there anyone you’d like me to contact on your behalf? Any relatives or friends who might be fearful for your whereabouts?”

The miqo’te’s ears flicked in surprise. It felt like a lifetime ago since she’d been in any sort of contact with her birth family… “Hmm… Yes, actually. My sister’s an adventurer, too, but she was out of Eorzea when I last heard from her. But there's my mother, she's a blacksmith in my home village… The last time I wrote to her was to ask her to come visit me in Mor Dhona. I wanted her to see where I was living, to meet the Scions, maybe get a job at the Ironworks. But, Revenant's Toll isn't safe anymore, as long as the Crystal Braves have the run of the place.”

Haurchefant had already begun writing, but looked back up, brow furrowed in concern. “I see. So you fear the brutes might attempt to take her hostage?”

Rahela cringed to hear what she was afraid might happen; she didn’t want to think they would go that far, but… She nodded, and said, “Just tell her to stay away from Ul’dah and Revenant's Toll, and that whatever she might hear about me isn't true. And let her know I'm safe, but I can't say where.”

He smiled, reassuring her, “I will, worry not.” The knight wrote on for about a minute more, and he looked up again to ask, “And what is her name?”

“W’yulhia Ehvin.”

He nodded, and signed the name at the head of the missive. “I shall send this in the morning; it will have to be by postmoogle instead of courier. Less chance of interception that way.” The knight rolled up the parchment and tied it shut, ready to be sent. But he took note of his charge’s still-downcast expression; rising from his chair and walking to her side. “… But I’m loath to send you back to bed on such a somber note. Is there aught else you require?”

Rahela knew that Haurchefant was trying to cheer her up. And of course the effort was appreciated, but she doubted that anything really be of help. And though she really didn't want to go back to sleep, she couldn’t think of any other reason to stay up. Then at that moment she remembered seeing something curious earlier. Those mugs of frothy, steaming, chocolate-scented liquid had been prepared for her, Tataru, and Alphinaud to help soothe their nerves after their ordeal in Ul’dah; but without realizing it, they’d wound up accidentally ignoring the drinks in their subsequent settling in. “Actually, what was that drink you set out for us before, in the Intercessory? I never got to try it, but it smelled amazing.”

At this request, Haurchefant raised an eyebrow in a mixture of surprise and skepticism. “Hot chocolate? At this time of night? Dear friend, if I gave that to you, you’d be wide awake for hours! You need your rest.”

“Please, Haurchefant?” Rah pleaded, “I’ve never had it before, and I feel guilty about letting the last batch go to waste.”

The knight open his mouth to argue further, but a thought occurred to him. If she's never had hot chocolate before… Haurchefant could well recall the first time he had it; after a long, trying day, it’d been the best thing he’d ever tasted. So this might be just the thing to cheer her up. He was certainly no Medguistl, but Haurchefant would do his utmost to make Rahela smile.

“Very well, hot chocolate it is.”

Chapter Text

‘Haurchefant, it’s getting late! Let’s go home, we can come back tomorrow.’

Haurchefant Greystone, a mere thirteen summers old, looked back to see his little friend Francel de Haillenarte, aged seven, straggling behind him. Long before the endless winter came, the Coerthan highlands were a verdant, vast alpine landscape that would call to any wandering child’s sense of adventure. For the past few hours, the two boys had been hiking aimlessly through these steep grassy and gravelly hills, searching for some unfamiliar cave to explore. The older boy hadn’t noticed the setting sun until his friend pointed it out to him. Coerthas was dangerous enough in the daylight, but once the sun had disappeared, every step and every speck of light in the distance could be deadly. ‘Hmmm… You’re right, it is getting late.’ Haurchefant made his way back to the tired boy and knelt down. ‘Climb on my back, I’ll take you home.’

With a nod, Francel mounted his friend’s back, and the two began their piggyback ride to Ishgard. ‘We made it so far today. I might fall right to sleep when I get home. What about you?’

‘I’m not tired at all,’ Haurchefant insisted, despite his increasingly labored breaths. ‘I might just drop you off at your manor and keep looking around.’

‘What? Why? Don’t you want to go home?’

He didn’t mean anything by the question, but Haurchefant involuntarily bristled at it anyway. ‘It’s… it’s nothing. Just some trouble at the manor.’

The innocent boy, out of sincere concern, continued his prodding, not realizing that Haurchefant might not want to answer. ‘What kind of trouble?’

‘…When Father and the Countess went on their outing with Artoirel and Emmanellain today, I was told to stay home. But after I broke that vase last week, Madame Fortemps doesn’t like me being alone and free to move around the house. So she waited until the others were out the door, she--’ Recalling the day’s early events broke Haurchefant’s concentration, and he stumbled to the ground, stuck between the dirt and Francel’s weight. And he stayed there. ‘… She locked me in the attic.’

‘What?!’

‘I heard her telling a servant not to let me out until they got home. But I couldn’t wait that long.’ He couldn’t spend another minute there, huddled on the hard, wooden floor in that room. Cold. Dark. Alone. Silent as the grave. The grave… ‘So I couldn’t stay there. I opened a window and climbed out and came to see you.’

Francel’s big, blue eyes filled with tears, so upset was he for his friend. ‘Haurchefant…’

‘So I can’t exactly walk right in. The countess would know I got out, if she doesn't know already. She'll be so furious…’

‘Why’s she so mean to you?! Isn’t she your mother?’

He flinched, clenching his fists. Don’t yell, don’t get upset, Haurchefant told himself. He was only seven, he wouldn’t know any better. As much as he balked, he vowed to never take out his feelings on little Francel. Simply shaking his head, he choked out, ‘No.’

‘She isn't? But she’s your father’s wife, isn’t that how it works?’

‘That doesn’t make her my mother. She's nothing like my mother.’

‘Then where’s your real mother?’

He knew the question was coming, but it still didn’t stop the lump from growing in his throat. Even after all these years without her, Haurchefant still ached at the memory of his mother. He still remembered the days and weeks and months of  watching the life slowly fade from her eyes. He remembered crying as he desperately held onto her hand, as hard as he could, for as long as he could, until all her warmth faded. He remembered being locked in that room immediately after her body was taken away, quarantined by the chirurgeons to see if he had contracted the same disease as that claimed her, and if he would be joining her.

And after spending a whole week in that cold, barren room, all alone with his grief and his thoughts, with no comfort, conversation, or contact? He wanted to.

But he couldn’t speak of all that. So he simply said, after a long silence, ‘She’s gone.’

‘Oh no…’ Francel rubbed the tears off his cheeks with his sleeves, and hugged his dear friend. ‘I’m so sorry, Haurchie… But we should still go home. I don’t want either of us to get eaten by wolves or something other terrible thing…’

Haurchefant rolled over on his back and stared longingly at the stars. ‘... I don’t know why I keep going back to that manor. Nobody really wants me there. The Countess, Artoirel, Emmanellain, they all hate me. And Father… I don’t even know. Sometimes he listens to her. But sometimes he stands up for me, and that’s when the fighting starts and I just can’t stand it. And…’ He trailed off. Fortemps Manor was where he lived, but he couldn’t call it a home. He hadn’t had a real home since he lost his mother; even the familiarity of his childhood house became empty and cold without her… And even when the scenery changed to a luxurious manor, all the creature comforts in the realm still rang hollow. Would anywhere ever feel like home again? Or would he have to...

Francel had had enough of the silence, so he cut it off, insistently slapping his hands on his friend’s chest to get his attention. ‘Haurchie, you’re coming live with me! Then you’ll be happy again!’

‘Wh-what? Live with you? No, I couldn’t, I don’t want to be a bother…’

‘You won’t be! We’ll have a sleepover, except i every night! We’ll have so much fun; we can sword-fight with Chlodey, or watch Stepphy take apart the clock and put it back together! And then--!’

The boy was so wound up and insistent that Haurchefant had to shush him with a ‘simmer down’ gesture. ‘Okay, slow down, Francel, slow down.’ He did quiet down, if only reluctantly; the older one went on, ‘If you’re that serious about this, I’ll stay over one night and see how it goes. Alright?’

‘Alright.’

Haurchefant got to his feet and took Francel’s small hand in his. ‘Come on, let’s go home.’

‘Okay.’ The two walked together, slowly but surely making their way back to Ishgard, the city growing brighter in the darkness falling across Coerthas. And along with the dark came the chill, causing Francel to shiver as they reached the Gates of Judgement. ‘It’s so cold… I hope there’s some hot chocolate waiting for us when we get home.’

‘Hot chocolate?’

‘It’s what Mother has the chefs make for us whenever we feel sad. You must try it, it’s wonderful!’

‘O-okay, if it’s that good, then I’ll have some…’

Over the years, and through many more difficult days like that one and many more cups of piping hot sweetness, Haurchefant had come to view the serving hot chocolate as an expression of utmost friendship and unconditional support, and giving love when and where it was needed most. That was the entire reason he’d offered it to the three exiles now under his care, and why he needed this cup for Rahela to be extra-special, the best hot chocolate he could possibly make. He rummaged through cabinets, muttering to himself. “Birch syrup, birch syrup, there it is. Now where did she put the kukuru powder…? Hm-hm-hmm, a-hah! Now that just leaves–” In locating the jar of milk in the pantry he also spotted Rahela. He blinked in surprise, for he thought she would wait for him by the fireplace upstairs, but there she stood, quiet as a mouse, watching him from just outside the kitchen.

“–Ah, there you are, my friend. A few moments more and it’ll be ready. Does the waiting trouble you?”

“N-no, not at all,” Rahela answered, stammering a bit. She fidgeted in place, managing an uncomfortable smile and inwardly cursing at herself.

Haurchefant was silent and unreadable for a brief moment, before he poured the jar of fresh milk into the kettle on the lit stovetop. Turning back to Rahela, he asked, “Do you like watching me work?”

Her face flushed pink in embarrassment and she shook her head, “I, I, no, wait, I mean...”

“There’s no need to fret. Is something troubling you?”

She fumbled with her words, “I’m sorry, it’s alright…”

Some seconds of silence. Patiently smiling at her, Haurchefant reached forward and— Ilberd’s hand clamped around her throat— gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Rah flinched away from him, immediately regretting it, bowing her head and shuffling back to her chair and her half-eaten bread roll. Said to both him and herself, “Just, just a chill…” Sitting by the blazing hearth would help, but it only warmed the chill coming from without, not within.

‘I’m being stupid,’ she thought to herself. She didn’t need to watch Haurchefant through every step of making the hot chocolate. Besides, she was the one who asked for it. Why would she suddenly not trust him to make a drink for her? She knew in her head that he’d proven his friendship was genuine, time and time again. She knew that she could trust him… so why didn’t she?

She’d trusted Ilberd.

And then, she heard the sound of pouring liquid and flinched again, even though she knew in her head that it was hot milk, and not wine. And she knew that Haurchefant wouldn’t put anything except kukuru powder and other sweet things into it. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force away the idea that what just happened in Ul’dah wouldn’t happen here. Stop thinking about Ul’dah, it’ll only make her feel worse. She focused on the sounds of here and now; the clinking of stirring spoons, the crackling of the fire, the wind scattering snow outside, the distant howling of wolves, Tataru’s soft snores from the other room, Haurchefant’s gentle humming…

She knew he wouldn’t betray her, so why was she so afraid that he would?

Then footsteps approaching, and the sound of the metal mugs being placed down on the table in front of her. Opening her eyes, she saw Haurchefant made some hot chocolate for himself as well. “I fear I’m not as talented a culinarian as Medguistl, but this should suffice,” he said, sounding proud of his handiwork regardless. Rahela intently watched him sit down, and with some trepidation. He seemed to remember something, and said, “Oh, and one more thing…”

Haurchefant stood up, lifting his own spoon and reaching across the table to dip it into Rahela’s mug; lifting up a spoonful of her hot chocolate and drinking it himself. And it took her a moment to register the full weight of that simple action; she stared at him in surprise, and he simply gave her a nod and a warm smile. Perfectly safe.

… Godsdammit, she’d already cried enough for one night, but here she was, getting teary-eyed yet again. But his gentle care and consideration kept amazing her, and that only deepened her regret for having doubted him. But she wiped away the forming tears with her sleeve and hoped that the smile she gave him now could convey her gratitude. Words were beyond her at the moment.

With her remaining fears of poison now gone, the seeker could finally enjoy the steaming aromas wafting into her sharp nose; the frothy beverage was unmistakably chocolate, while the white cream piled on top smelled of vanilla, with a dash of cinnamon sprinkled on its surface. She leaned forward and breathed deep its scent, exhaling a sigh. The reminder that chocolate still existed in this new, cold and lonely world was one that Rahela didn’t realize she needed. Stirring it all together with her own spoon, she took the mug, (albeit a bit clumsy only having use of her left hand) and had her first sip of hot chocolate.

Immediately she melted; pure molten sweetness heated her from the inside out, from her throat to her belly to her bones, and and she relaxed in her seat. So divine was its taste that without even realizing it, Rahela had begun purring.

Then came Haurchefant’s voice asking, “You like it?”

She sighed, “‘S amazing…”

“Glad am I to hear it,” the knight nodded, smiling more broadly than before. “You’d be surprised how easily food can lift the soul. Believe it or not, that's how I first met my dear friend Lord Francel!”

“Oh, really?” Rah takes another sip and sets her cup down. “What happened?”

“A-ah, well, I…” He strangely falters, as if he weren’t prepared to answer such a question, and takes a moment to clear his throat before continuing. “One night in my youth, I was in low spirits during a party at my home, so I took to practicing my swordplay outside in the cold; I was rather prone to brooding back then. And then, to my surprise, a small boy around half my age toddles up with some brief conversation, and offers to share some pudding with me. We became fast friends and have remained so ever since!”

“Wow…”

“Ours is a friendship that has withstood the test of time!” He gestured, broadly swinging his arms outward with an ear-to-ear grin. “Even though we have faced our fair share of hardship, and our many duties prevent us from being as close as we once were, Francel shall ever be as a brother to me!” His expression softened, a touch of sadness coming to his face. Nostalgia for happier times. But the smile stayed on his face. “But, enough about me. What of you, Rahela? Have you any childhood bosom friends?”

Her shoulders slumped. “Not really. I was… fragile, back when I was younger. And sensitive.” And slow, and stupid, and useless, and unfit to be a huntress… "So the kids my age either just ignored me or saw me as an easy target. Easy to rile up, too weak to fight back.” And to keep herself from saying anymore she took a long sip of her hot chocolate.

Looking to Haurchefant, his expression was one of disbelief, eyes wide and mouth just slightly open. “ You were thought of as weak?”

“Before I discovered thaumaturgy, I couldn’t fight so much as a marmot. Nobody thought I would last three days as an adventurer.” The day she discovered her potential as a fighter lay in magic was the day she left the Gold Fang behind forever. She boarded the cart bound for Ul’dah, carrying only a paltry sum of gil, the clothes on her back, and the weathered old thaumaturge’s scepter that had belonged to her father. But on the cart leaving Ul’dah tonight, she had even less than that. Rahela bowed her head, and she set her cup down. “… The Scions were the first to ever make me feel like I wasn’t a burden. They were––no, they are more of a family to me than most all of my tribe. But I still… still couldn’t do anything to stop them as they… stayed behind. With my arm in a bad way, and without a weapon, I can’t do anything… ‘M just as helpless as I was then.”

“My friend…” Haurchefant went silent and contemplative again, a forefinger lifting to his chin. “This is only a suggestion, but… If you wish to remedy that, I should be glad to train you.”

Rah’s ears perked up, unsure if she heard him right. Raising an eyebrow at him, she asked, “Train me how?”

“By physical therapy; once your arm is out of its sling, the muscles shall be atrophied from disuse. And even should you manage to acquire a new staff, you might not even be able to lift it. But be it through sparring, exercise, or whichever method you prefer, I’d gladly help you to build your physical strength so that you might at least defend yourself better even without use of your magic.”

She actually hadn’t considered that. But she should have supposed that with the way she kept lamenting her troubles to Haurchefant, he might offer a solution instead of just letting her wallow in self-pity; just as he’d done for Alphinaud some hours before. That was just the type of person he was. “Huh… maybe.”

But he seemed to mistake the ‘maybe’ for an enthusiastic ‘yes.’ “Very well! As fortune would have it, there is some exercise equipment in my personal chambers.” He stood up and leaned forward to put his face towards hers, nostrils flared and a wildly excited gleam in his eyes, “The very moment your arm is recovered, we shall see to your training. Soon shall be the splendid day where we finally, finally have the opportunity to build our camaraderie through perseverance and perspiration…! ”

Leaning back and mildly concerned with this sudden and strangely familiar flight of fancy, Rahela blinked and stammered out, “Buh— I— o-okay, I will definitely think about it.”

Seeing her response, Haurchefant cleared his throat and sat back down. “A-apologies, my friend, I got overexcited…”

“It’s not that, I just…” Rahela pursed her lips, wondering if she should voice this thought aloud. “I was just reminded of the strangest person I met last Heavensturn. A loud, exuberant man in a horse helmet…”

And to her surprise, Haurchefant grinned in delight once more, and crowed, “ AHA! So you do remember!”

What. “What.”

“Our first meeting! Heavensturn, the Year of the Horse, Treespeak Stables? We both wore the Uma Kabuto?”

Oh, she remembered, alright. It felt like a lifetime ago, but clear as day the image of that raving madman in that bizarre helm who soliloquized about the virtues of both chocobos and horses before it took an even stranger turn…

“The finest creature here is neither the horse nor the chocobo…” The knight exemplar turned away from the bickering Uma Bugyo and Chief Chocowacker, and faced Rahela for the first time, announcing with a gleeful thumbs-up, “...but this adventurer!”

Rahela froze, and all present were taken aback by his bizarre declaration. The knight did not take this reaction as a sign to stop, but instead a sign to explain his reasoning.

“Look at the scars upon her kabuto,” he said, gesturing in fervent approval. “How mightily she must have toiled to become a horse...and against all odds, succeed!”

Well, she wasn’t sure where those scars came from. But between scaring some chocobos in Bentbranch Meadows, making an exhausting sprint across Western Thanalan, and helping with some farmwork in La Noscea lifting carrots larger and heavier than any carrot had any right to be? He was right that she did toil mightily to promote horses in Eorzea… Even though she still vastly preferred chocobos any day, not that the pushy Uma Bugyo had ever bothered to ask her own promoter’s opinion.

But the knight went on, gesticulating in excitement as he sung the praises of a total stranger, “The docility to accept well-nigh impossible commands, the physical talents to carry them out─to a warrior born such as I, there are no virtues greater in a steed!”

Staring blankly at him, all she could muster was a bewildered, “... Huh?”

Stepping closer to her, he asked, “My lady adventurer, what is your name?”

“R-Rahela,” she said, and immediately regretted it. Godsdammit, why did she give this weird man her real name?

And with a grand flourish, the horse-headed knight dropped down to one knee, his arms spread wide open in the purest, most jubilant exaltation, and near-shouted the words that would echo throughout Treespeak Stables for all eternity: “I say, my Lady Rahela, be my personal steed! There will be none greater, furred or feathered! The finest carrots you will have, your feet I will scrape, and…!”

The Uma Bugyo and Chief Chocowacker cut him off before he could say anything else, but Rahela had checked out mentally from this situation. In her daze she vaguely noted the madman of a knight accepting their request for him to leave, but he had one more thing to say to her.

“Rahela, we were well met. A woman of your talents is welcome at our camp any time. We will sit by the fire and talk of glory and adventure!” With one last broad, delirious grin, he punched his chest and declared, “May the new turn be a blessed one!”

“That was you?!”

“Yes!” Haurchefant said, gleefully pumping his fist. “And as amazed with you as I was back then, never could I have guessed the spectacular deeds you would go on to perform!”

She felt faint all over again. “... And. Why didn’t you say anything? When I came looking for the Enterprise...”

At this, he finally seemed to turn shy, crossing his arms and canting his head to the side. “You didn’t seem to recognize me, so I thought you had forgotten. And with the news that you came bearing of Francel, all thoughts of reminding you were banished rather quickly.”

Truth be told, she had blocked that whole incident out. What else was she supposed to do with the knowledge that an Ishgardian knight she had never met before propositioned her to be his personal steed? And now, the revelation that that knight was none other than Haurchefant? Rahela went blank, and buried her face in her palm. Her only words were a muffled, “I… I, I don’t know how to take this.”

At first Haurchefant seemed elated to know that Rahela did indeed remember their true first meeting. But seeing her expression now, he realized he’d never considered that she might not remembered that meeting as fondly as he did. Immediately his face fell, and began fretting. “… Oh, oh dear. Rah, I… I’m so sorry, I… Were you… uncomfortable, when I...”

“Asked me to be your personal steed?” She was careful not to actually raise her voice, but as flustered as she was, it came out more as a hiss.

A heavy silence ensued, only broken when Haurchefant bowed his head. “... My actions during our first meeting were terribly inappropriate, and it is plain to see that my impropriety has caused you discomfort. For that, I must deeply apologize. If—” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Ahem, if you doubt my intentions towards you now because of what I said and did back then, then that is only natural. But…” A deep breath, and he raised his head just enough to make eye contact with her. “I promise that your safety and comfort are of paramount importance to me; and naturally that extends to Master Alphinaud and Mistress Tataru as well. Should my behavior in the past or the future give any of you cause to feel unsafe, then I shall not begrudge you your decision to seek shelter elsewhere.”

Looking at him, genuinely apologetic, and ever mindful of her very recent trauma, she weighed his words…

… Gods, use your bloody head, Rahela. This is the man who had to be held back by six knights from running off to help you fight Shiva. He’d rather freeze himself solid in the river before he’d do anything to make you feel unsafe. And now he thinks you want to leave…?

Haurchefant shuffled in his chair for the long silence, and took it as a negative sign. “You need not feel beholden to me just because of tonight’s events. Please, I… If you need a moment, I’ll…”

He trailed off as he noticed her lips quirking upwards. Rahela was smiling. “Hhhhh… Hhha, haha…” Soft puffs of breath slowly grew louder and clearer. Rahela was laughing. “Ahahahahahahaha…!”

In the weeks and months and years later, Rahela would look back on that moment, that very moment, when Haurchefant got her to laugh in the hours before sunrise on the morning after the Bloody Banquet, as the moment she fell for him.

And although Haurchefant had long since been enamored with Rahela, in that moment he realized that he’d never heard her laugh before. And listening to it now, even watching her in wonder … He forgot to breathe for several seconds. Right away, he knew then and there, he would give anything to keep that smile on her face and joy in her voice. What was simple infatuation before, had suddenly been replaced with a real love.

“Haaa, ha, sorry, Haurchefant… But...” Rahela allowed herself a moment more before she took a slow breath to calm her giggling fit. Rubbing some of the tears that gathered at her eyes, she said, “It’s, it’s alright. Your apology’s been accepted.”

“Oh, ah, I…” An uncharacteristically shy Haurchefant rubbed the back of his neck. “Forgive me, but I…”

“I do forgive you,” Rahela smiled again at him. “Even though your early… strangeness scared me at first, but I know better now. You’re still pretty strange, but you’re sweet, too. And generous. And kind. And you know better now too, right?”

At last relief washed over the knight’s face. He said, “Indeed. I shall endeavor to be ever more mindful from here on. You have my word.”

“And I’ll see how I feel about the training once my arm is done healing. Okay?”

His smile was wide, warm, and wonderful. “Splendid!”

Haurchefant lifted his mug of hot chocolate and clinked it against hers before taking a long swig. And Rah in turn took a mouthful of hers, finding it mostly cooled off but still quite sweet. As sweet and as warm as him…

By the time their cups had been drained, their conversations grew shorter and more infrequent. But now the silence wasn’t awkward, instead more comfortable. As daybreak neared, Haurchefant excused himself and left the room. Rahela didn’t measure the time he was gone by the time he returned, having changed back into his usual chainmail and sollerets. “Time to start a new day, my friends.”

All at once, hearing those words stirred an inexplicable urge within her heart. “Uh, hey, Haurchie…?”

He gave her an almost surprised look, not expecting the nickname she’d given him. “Yes?”

“Could I…” She hesitated, trying to sort out her thoughts. “Could I go up to the east wall of the camp? I, I want to watch the sunrise.”

Haurchefant didn’t answer right away, instead looking at her in contemplation. Just as she began to worry he’d say no, he said, “Hold a moment,” and hurried up the stairs. And it took him less than a minute to come back down with a woolen shawl, which he then wrapped around her shoulders and secured with a clasp. “There we are. We’ll go together.”

The darkest hour of the night was ending, and the stars were fading. The clouds over Coerthas had cleared, and the sky was just beginning to light up. The shawl nicely protected Rahela’s splinted arm from the biting cold as she followed Haurchefant up the ramp that led to Camp Dragonhead’s many parapets.

“Do be careful, Rahela,” he warned, “In the morning these steps rather slippery—” As soon as he said that, the knight heard in rapid succession a yelp, a thump, and a pained, heavy grunt; looking back, he saw Rahela laying on her side, having slipped on the snow and ice-slickened walkway, wincing and clutching her arm. “Rahela!” Taking care not to slip himself, he hurried down and knelt at his friend’s side. “Are you alright?!”

“Nnnngh, I-I’m fine.” She took his offered hand and pulled down as leverage to get herself to an upright position, before slipping again and falling onto her backside. “... Sort of.”

“Very well. If you’ll permit me…” Careful to avoid putting pressure on her right arm, Haurchefant wound his arms around her shoulders and under her knees, and with hardly any effort, he scooped the small Miqo’te into his arms.

Immediately she flushed red, sputtering in protest, “Wh— H-hey! You, you don’t need to, my, it’s my arm that’s broken, not my legs!”

“Precisely,” he said in the most even tone imaginable. “I would like to keep the rest of your limbs unbroken.”

And that logic, in addition to Rahela realizing that she didn’t actually mind him carrying her around, she couldn’t argue. “... Okay, fair.”

Haurchefant climbed up to the wall of Camp Dragonhead that faced east until he reached the burning fire that served to keep the patrols warm during their night watch. He set Rahela down on the parapet just beside it, situating himself on her other side.

Looking out over the snowy expanse of Coerthas’ mountains, Rahela saw that the darkness before dawn was ending and giving way to the light of a new morning. But, just as suddenly as the urge to watch this arose, it disappeared. As if watching the sunrise would drive it home that all of the horror of the last night was real and not just a nightmare.

Haurchefant noticed her drawing in on herself. “What’s the matter, my friend…?”

“... I don’t want a dawn without them.”

Silence. She closed her eyes.

“The last time I saw the sun, I was heading back to Ul’dah with that godsdamned vial, ready to join the bloody banquet. They were still with me. Minfilia, Yda, Papalymo, Y’shtola, and Thancred…  They need me, and I can’t even go looking for them…”

The knight’s tone at once grew unexpectedly firm. “To go search for them yourself in your condition would be reckless. The Scions risked their lives to protect you; and they certainly would not have you to wander back into the enemy’s clutches the very next day.” And having finished his reprimand, he grew soft again. “Mistress Yugiri and her shinobi are doing all they can to locate your missing allies. Have faith, and give them some time.”

For a long moment, the only sound was that of the wind. Rahela’s voice was, when she found it again, was low and strained. “... I know that. But I still hate it. I hate the helplessness. And the waiting… All of it…”

“Oh, my friend,” Haurchefant laid his hand upon hers, eyes full of sadness. “I understand how frustrating it is, to be stuck in one place while the state of the realm is so dire…”

“But, you’ve always been here to defend your home, haven’t you?”

“My home, perhaps, but not the realm at large. Ishgard’s isolationism can be rather maddening, as you can imagine.” He looked up, staring into the distance, contemplative. “The night of the Calamity, the Holy See had the south roads leading to Carteneau blocked, forbidding anyone who wished to leave Coerthas to aid the Alliance.”

“Really…?”

He nodded, solemn. “Indeed. And far more recently, I do well remember the night that the Ultima Weapon soared over Coerthas, and when the Archbishop soon after received a summons from the Alliance Council on that very subject. I went to the Vault to personally beg of His Holiness that he respond… But, to no avail, as you well know. I don’t believe I’ve ever apologized to you or the Scions, for being unable to be of help.”

“But, Haurchefant… You were a huge help!”

“Pardon…?”

“We wouldn't have found the Enterprise without your help. Me, Alphinaud, and Cid, you let us all stay here, and you helped us gather information… If you hadn’t done that, who knows what would have happened.”

He was stunned by her words of praise, giving him credit for her own great deeds, and tried to nervously deny them. “N-nonsense, with how resourceful and determined you are, surely you would have regained your airship without my aid…!”

She shook her head, denying his denial. “We probably would have frozen to death looking for answers. And then we couldn't have fought Garuda, or rescued our friends, or anything after that! I know you wanted to help with the fighting, but,” Rahela looked up at him, eyes wide as if she had only just made the realization as she was talking. “Without you, Haurchefant, there wouldn't have been an Operation Archon at all.”

“—A-ahem, I'm… Thank you for your kind words. Truly, too kind.” ‘Flustered’ was a surprisingly charming look on Haurchefant, Rahela thought to herself. “And I must apologize, I didn’t mean to steer the conversation towards myself. The point is, I understand your frustration with the circumstances. And your fears as well.”

Her fears… Ilberd’s face so close that she could smell his breath, one hand choking her and the other moving to her chest. Teledji’s blood and then Raubahn’s, splattering onto her face. Yda and Papalymo trapping themselves on the wrong side of a gate, cornered by Brass Blades and Crystal Braves. Thancred and Y’shtola, staying behind to hold off the enemy. Minfilia, hearing a voice that Rahela didn’t, running back where she couldn’t follow. She bit her lip, shivering. “All I want, all I want is… Is for us to be together again.”

“And?” Haurchefant stared at her, intent and solemn. “Do you believe that you will be together again? If you do, then say it aloud and truly mean it.”

She breathed deep of the morning air and gazed out to the horizon. “‘The dawn’s light will shine again,’” she recited. How easily she heard those words in Minfilia’s voice. “I’ll keep going… for my friends, and for Eorzea. For myself too, and…”

Rahela looked to Haurchefant. And for you too. All the faith you have in me, I wanna repay it.

“Yes, that’s precisely what I had hoped to hear,” Haurchefant said, both his face and his voice brimming with pride. “You see, Rahela? It’s sunrise.”

The first rays of sunlight peeked over the mountainside, painting the sky a bright, rosy orange, clouds casting purple shadows.

For Rahela, seeing the dawn again after such a traumatic, seemingly endless night, her gaze remained transfixed on the hills, and the beams blooming just behind the snowcapped mountaintops.

But for Haurchefant, as beautiful as this sunrise was, at this moment it could never compare to her. Even as bruised and battered and broken as she was, she smiled, and at long last Haurchefant could see the spark of hope still in her eyes.

“… If, by some miracle, my friends are still out there somewhere… If they're free and watching this sunrise too, then that’s enough for me right now. I don't know when, but we’ll be together again someday. All of us.”

Hope incarnate.

“Haurchefant? Are you alright?”

Rahela noticed that he was looking rather enthralled, staring at her through half-lidded eyes. But he blinked and shook his head when she brought him back to reality.

“I, ah, yes. Yes, of course!” He cleared his throat. “Apologies, I, I haven’t slept…”

Slow-blinking at him, she relaxed a bit and leaned against his arm, lightly purring as she watched the sunset. But just as she was soon to achieve some measure of serenity, a familiar and unwelcome voice growled in her mind.

‘Heh heh heh…’ The tiny form of Midgardsormr climbed atop the parapet just within Rahela’s vision. ‘Thou thinkest thy sanctuary lieth with this knight?’

Drawing closer to her companion and clutching his arm, she tried to shoo the unwanted dragon away with angry thoughts. ‘Get out. Don’t think I forgot about what you did. If you hadn’t taken my Blessing, I could have saved Moenbryda. And you don’t know anything about Haurchefant.’

‘What else need be known about an Ishgardian?’ Now Midgardsormr hovered in front of her face, glaring her in the eye. ‘Men of his ilk careth for naught but their own warped perception of righteousness. They art taught from birth that to show any show of remorse or compassion towards thine enemy is a mortal sin. Should he learn of our pact, thou wilt not only be cast out, but put to the sword, no different from the scores of dragons and so-called heretics having met their ends at his hands.’

Rahela hadn’t forgotten her own doubts that she tried to banish from her mind. Even though she couldn’t trust the average Ishgardian to know her secret, but Haurchefant was as far as one could get from the average Ishgardian. ‘No. He swore an oath that that would never happen, and I believed him when he said it.’

‘Canst thou truly say such with all surety? Thou may placeth thy trust in his ‘oath,’ while yet hiding the truth of our covenant from him. Even shorn of Her Blessing, perhaps you sense the treachery that runneth so deep in Ishgardian blood…’

‘I never wanted your stupid pact! Haurchefant doesn’t have to prove anything to you, and neither do I! Leave me alone!’

Midgardsormr dissipated without another word, leaving Rahela frustrated and irritated that the dragon had spoiled the brief moment of peace. But most of all, she hated that she was unable to completely refute his words. All too well she remembered; her meeting with Alphinaud, Urianger, and Minfilia after her investigation of the Keeper of the Lake. She was forbidden from telling anyone that she had heard the voice of the Dravanians, for both the Scions’ sake and her own, As much as she hated having to hide things from the man who was going to such lengths for her, telling the truth would be too risky. Haurchefant himself might or might not have an adverse reaction, (Oh, she hoped he wouldn’t…) but gods forbid what might happen if anyone else were to learn that the hero of the Steps of Faith were consorting with the Father of Dragons, willingly or not…

“My friend?” Her swirling thoughts were interrupted with the sound of Haurchefant’s voice. Looking up, she saw straight into his eyes, and was immediately lost in deep, yet bright hues that shamed the purest blue heavens. “Are you alright?”

“I…” Helpless now, perhaps suddenly feeling the effects of her restless night catching up with her, Rahela’s eyelids fluttered shut as she leaned against him. She didn’t know why she craned her neck upwards to him, just parting her lips. “I…”

“What is it?” Gods help her, he was so close…

Even after all he’s done to reassure me that I can trust him, I still can’t tell him the truth… Is that really okay…?

But they drew closer and closer, their shadows cast by the dawn unto the stone wall behind them nearly merging into one—

“—My lord!” A voice belonging to neither of the pair caused them both to jolt in surprise. A Fortemps patrol was running to them, and rather frantically. “Pardon the interruption, but--”

In a second, Haurchefant was all business, standing up as he addressed his subordinate. “No matter, what has happened? Another attack?”

“Not the Dravanians, milord, but intruders! I’d just begun my shift when I spotted a trio of suspicious figures in blue uniforms approaching from the south. Are these the blackguards that are pursuing your guests?”

At the mention of blue uniforms, they both stiffened. Haurchefant furrowed his brow while Rahela felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.

The Crystal Braves. They’d found her…