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English
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Part 2 of Year of the OTP 2025
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Published:
2025-02-21
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2,166
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1/1
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Of Roses and Promises

Summary:

As rose bouquets spread throughout the realm, not even the Warrior of Light is impervious to their whispers.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

“Yes, this is he.” The familiar response on the other end of the linkshell made Astoria smile, a reminder of the last time she had called upon him on a whim.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything, Raha.”

“Astoria! No, nothing at all!” She heard the sound of a heavy tome being hurriedly slammed shut. “I’m glad you called. Is there something I can help you with? I don’t suppose it is another Allagan mystery.”

“Nothing quite so exciting as an adventure, unfortunately.” Astoria ran a hand through her hair. “I wanted to see if you’d be interested in a little day trip to Gridania.”

There was what felt like a long moment of silence on the line. “...Raha?” 

“G-gridania? Of course! It has been a while since I last visited the Black Shroud.” A short pause. “I will be there. Just let me know the time.”

She met G’raha at the aetheryte and waved at the red head, who seemed to be regarding his surroundings warily. “Is something amiss, Raha? We can always reschedule if you are feeling under the weather.” Astoria glanced at him, twisting the ties at the side of her attire around her finger.

G’raha shook his head vehemently. And though she was still somewhat concerned, Astoria couldn’t help but be distracted by the way his ears moved.

“Shall we then?” The Miqo’te smiled and proffered an arm. They joined the flow of people moving from the plaza through the verdant tunnels towards Old Gridania. Every year around this time, the city seemed to be filled with couples. The scent of roses permeated the air.

“The variety they are offering this year is the Driancoin, of House Haillenarte’s sigil. The story of how the plant arrived from Coerthas to the Shroud is quite romantic.” She recounted the tale of Sylginie and Laurovic, and of their dramatic reunion.

“A rose pushed to extinction by the Calamity, saved by a brave woman who risked persecution to find hope in a foreign land…” G’raha mused. “To be honest, when I first heard of a new species of rose I did not imagine that it might have such a touching back story.”

Canopy gave way to open space and the Mih Khetto Amphitheater gradually came into view. The venue was covered in scarlet banners, large and small, and long velvet ribbons. Heart motifs covered every surface, and alchemical devices produced clouds of crimson aromatic steam. People clustered around the stage, admiring the decoration. Lovers smiled and whispered to each other, gesturing with delight at barrels of roses.

“You have heard of the Driancoin, then?”

G’raha startled, glanced quickly at her, then shifted his gaze towards the trellis to their left. “Ah, yes. Krile mentioned something in the passing. They are quite stunning, are they not? Especially in such voluminous quantities.”

“They are.” Astoria followed his gaze to the sprawling flowers. “They are even more breathtaking at the Growery. During this season entire fields are dedicated to nothing but roses. Would you like to see them?”

“That would be lovely! But… uh, before that. Would you like to grab something? To eat, I mean. The vendor over there appears to be quite popular with the visitors.” G’raha gestured at an Elezen stirring an enormous pot of melted chocolate.

“I could use some hot cocoa,” Astoria admitted. After acquiring their beverages, they claimed a spot at the edge of the amphitheater and people watched.

“The Bibliothec took issue with our request initially, of course. But Master Montichaigne held an intervention on our behalf and had some private words with- well, perhaps it is better you do not know him. They have not given us much trouble since…”

Astoria smiled into her drink. “Well, let me know if you could use a person standing menacingly behind you.” She licked the last bit of cream from the rim of the cup and stood up. As she scanned the venue for a bin, she noticed two familiar figures of long platinum hair.

“I didn’t realize Ameliance is visiting again! Shall we go say hello?” Astoria disposed of her cup and patted down the front of her dress. 

G’raha hastily grabbed her wrist. “I suspect Master Fourchenault would rather us not disturb his date.”

“I suppose not,” Astoria acquiesced. “To the Greatloam Growery next, then?”

After a moment of hesitation, G’raha nodded. From its grip around her wrist his hand dropped down to touch hers. “Is this okay?” he asked, red eyes meeting hers nervously.

Astoria smiled and grabbed his fingers.

The entrance to the Botanist Guide was marked by a tall floral archway and flanked by large mossy rocks. Unexpectedly, Astoria did not spot Fufucha in her normal spot in front of the main cabin. The event logistics must be taking up much of her time , she thought.

G’raha glanced furtively at the door. “To be honest, I am surprised there is not more of a crowd here.”

Covering a laugh with her free hand, Astoria admitted, “The rose fields are not actually open to the public, but I can sneak us in as a member of the guild.” She nodded at Cicely and pulled G’raha through the gates. 

They descended the hills and traced the river, passing by herbs and vegetables the guild usually specialized in. Ducking under yet another set of arches, the colors transformed from earthy greens and orange to vibrant red, into what appeared to be yalms and yalms of rose blossoms. Loosely organized in rows of bushes, the fields played host to a dozen or so botanists, who examined each bud with critical eyes. With gentle but steady hands, they extracted ready blooms and gathered them in large woven baskets.

As they wandered onto a small grassy junction between two fields, Astoria spotted a familiar face under an enormous straw hat. The woman looked up and zoned in on them.

“There you are, Master G’raha Tia. Cicely notified me that you are visiting. We have your order ready, if you would like to pick them up today.” Fufucha marched over purposefully. “Our roses are doing quite well, wouldn’t you say?”

G’raha froze when the Lalafell’s voice reached them. When he moved again it was with focused precision. “Thank you very much, Guildmaster Fufucha. We are currently here on a separate business, however; I shall be around to retrieve my order another day.” The tension in his arm belied a nervousness in spite of his easy smile and evenly-paced speech.

Astoria eyed him curiously. “If it isn’t time-sensitive I don’t mind waiting for your errand. It is quite a distance from Sharlayan, is it not?”

“The distance is no trouble at all. Besides, there are still quite a few days until I will have need of the items,” G’raha dismissed with a soft shake of his head.

“Moreover, you would not want to harvest the Driancoin until at most the day before,” Fufucha supplemented helpfully, ignoring the way the Miqo’te went rigid at her words. “Which, as one of our top botanists, Astoria, you should know full well,” she admonished.

“Sorry, guildmaster. I’ll be sure to be more diligent about my studies.” She glanced at G’raha, who was staring blankly at a nearby rose plant. “We were on our way to speak to Laurovic-”

“Actually, Guildmaster. I would like to pick up my order today after all, if it isn’t too much trouble.” He spoke with measured intonation, the very picture of grace if one were to ignore the way his ears and tail drooped.

Fufucha nodded and gestured at one of the botanists nearby, who set about work with practiced efficiency. The Lalafell herself returned to her business shortly after, and the two of them were left in the clearing with one enormous bouquet between them.

“I’m glad the guild has requests from all over the realm. Sylginie will be pleased to hear that the Driancoin is so well-received,” Astoria offered in the ensuing silence.

G’raha let out a shaky breath. “Even among the faculties at the Studium the rose has been a popular topic of late. Now that the fate of the world is no longer hanging by a thread, many are more inclined to partake in what had previously been considered frivolous sentimentality.” He paused and looked down, as if searching for words in the petals. “I… Forgive me, this was not quite what I had envisioned.”

Astoria shook her head. “Since we ended up completing your errand after all, would you mind coming with me on mine?”

“Of course,” was the confused response, and so she herded him to yet another field.

“Laurovic!” She waved at the Elezen.

“Astoria! Is it today? When you said you’d rather keep your bouquet in reserve-”

She nodded at him. “Yes, now if you would refrain from giving me away entirely…”

Laurovic belatedly noticed the bewildered Miqo’te following her. “Ah. I wish you the best of luck.” He handed her a bouquet in full bloom.

Cradling the flowers with one arm, Astoria held out her hand to G’raha, who took it in a daze. She tugged him from the fields to a smaller enclosure, until fervent red gave way to softly blushing pink. Beneath the shade of her favorite tree, she stopped and turned to face her companion. With a deep breath, she chanced a glance at his face, catching sight of eyes wide with surprise.

“I’m… not as eloquent as our friends. But I didn’t want to leave it unsaid. How much I appreciate everything you have done. How your encouragement held me steady when the world would tremble. How every promise we make inspires me to look towards tomorrow.” Astoria lifted the bouquet as if to present it, hiding her face behind its abundant blooms. “I thought, maybe, as a symbol of hope and affection, these flowers would serve as a pledge. That I would be someone whom you could rely on, as you have been for me.”

G’raha was looking at her, mouth slightly agape. Had she… said too much? Not enough? She had thought, maybe, that he would be happy about her words. But perhaps she had misread him and instead caused him unease.

In the space between disappointment and a strange, detached curiosity, Astoria waited for a response. She had been the recipient of many of his speeches before. Heartfelt words that held dangerous power in their sincerity. Surely he could afford her one now, she thought.

“I… To be honest, I struggle even now to put my feelings into words.” He spoke softly, the unevenness in his voice barely discernible. “I have told you before that you are my inspiration. That I have ever and will forever strive to stand by your side. To share in your burdens and your joys.” G’raha covered her hand with his own. “To hear that not only have I succeeded in providing some small measure of comfort, but that you share in my wish to be there for one another… make me happier than you could ever imagine.”

Astoria let out a breath she had not realized that she was holding. “I might not always be so forthcoming with my words, but you are not just ‘some small measure of comfort’”.

G’raha smiled apologetically. “Tis but a figure of speech, forgive me. I have never doubted that you cared for me.” He squeezed her hand. “But to have such precious sentiments laid out in front of me like this still feels like a fever dream.” His voice dropped to an inaudible murmur. “Some days, I could almost deceive myself into thinking…”

“Raha?”

“Thank you for the rose. And though I wish I managed a more polished delivery, I hope you will receive of mine too.” He took her bouquet with one hand and offered her his. “For they too are a vow to remain steadfast by your side.” 

Astoria hugged the bouquet to her chest and smiled into the blooms. “Heartwarming though this exchange was, I feel thoroughly drained. Tis well that such an occasion only comes around once a year.”

G’raha coughed. “Actually. If you are not yet tired of the holiday and amenable to the idea, I had hoped to invite you to the Last Stand’s Valentione Tasting the following week…”

Astoria looked up at the blushing Miqo’te in surprise.

“That was, in fact, the bouquet’s original purpose,” he admitted with a chagrined look on his face. “I have not been able to ascertain the exact menu, as Dickon prefers to play his cards close to his heart, but I can promise copious amounts of chocolate.”

Though the sun had started to set, giving way to the chill of a brisk winter evening, the sweetness of the hot cocoa they had earlier yet lingered in her mouth. The warmth Astoria felt at his words, too, remained in her chest.

“Raha,” she said, staring into eyes as red as the roses in her arms, “I could never tire of chocolate… or of your company.”

Notes:

Yes, that is a lot of bouquets to juggle. No, he didn’t get it.

For February's prompt, Valentine's Day.

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