Work Text:
It was near evening by the time Estinien finally strode into the Congregation, receiving only passing glances as he pushed by several of the knights in favor of boarding the lift that would carry him swiftly to the Lord Commander’s Seat. He was running late. The documents of field reports that he carried beneath his arm should have been on Aymeric’s desk much earlier in the day. Now, night was falling, and he knew it to be soon that the other would retire to his quarters for rest.
Or, to which he should - unless Aymeric decided to once more work the entire night away, which would be met with a swift scolding from the dragoon, if Lucia hadn’t done the job for him already.
Moving briskly down the hall, Estinien placed a hand against the large oaken door that lead to Aymeric’s office, and pushed. It groaned with age, and was shut tight behind him again in only a moment. He hadn’t the decency or the time to knock; Aymeric knew him far too well for such courtesies to even be considered.
If the other elezen noticed him enter, he didn’t raise his head to acknowledge him. His quill was currently trained upon a large document in front of him, scrawling hastily across the worn cream page with dutiful elegance. There was a stack of papers to his left, and a much smaller stack to his right - it was a clear indicator of the work he had finished and what he had left to accomplish.
He was nearly done for the night, as Estinien feared.
Clearing his throat, the dragoon marched towards the desk and flopped the papers under his arm unceremoniously away from the others. Aymeric would sort them to where they needed to go - he always did, and Estinien knew far better than to place them into one of the already made stacks. The Lord Commander was picky about where things on his desk ended up, and as his quill halted for a moment, Estinien inwardly prepared himself to receive a small look of displeasure.
Which… never came, and Aymeric's fingers were soon once again sliding the pen across paper in a flurry of motions.
“Not even a greeting? Rare.” Estinien growled, and he swore he thought he saw a slight shrug of Aymeric’s shoulders. “Are you truly so busy as to not even acknowledge me?”
The other elezen sighed, halting his quill to stare up at Estinien.
It was then that the dragoon took notice of the dark bags under his eyes, a physical indicator of just how tired he was currently. Despite the smile that spread across Aymeric’s lips, his eyes were doing anything but. They were clouded. Hazy, staring into space and not at all focusing on anything in particular. Even his lips seemed to be a paler shade than usual, which flung a pang of worry through Estinien’s body.
“Apologies,” Aymeric began, and his hand flew to his mouth to muffle a cough that wracked his entire being, “it has been a long day. I am dutifully at focus on my work in hopes to finish it by the eve.”
Estinien rose a brow, tilting his head in a gesture that Aymeric followed with his eyes directly towards the window. “The evening has already arrived. Most of your knights are already retiring to their chambers, as so should you.”
“Ah... I suppose you are correct...” Even his voice seemed to trail off; the dragoon’s concern for Aymeric’s health was heavily rising, made visible by the way he worried his bottom lip between his teeth.
Stepping slowly around the large desk, Estinien offered a hand to help him stand. Instead of grasping it, icy blue eyes instead trailed down to stare at it, hesitation purely dominating his expression. The dragoon knew it would be hard to get him away from his work when it was yet to be finished. Knew, but offered anyway - and with as pale as his partner looked, he only hoped he wasn’t getting sick because of his intricate work hours.
In fact, he couldn’t quite remember if he had even asked Aymeric when last he slept - he was too busy in the field, and should he be shirking sleep in favor of duty as he so often did, Estinien would be quick to get riled up over it.
Aymeric truly was going drive himself into the grave from improper care, and Estinien was quick to raise his head enough to where the other could see the glare he wore.
“You look absolutely horrid. Come on.”
Aymeric gave a strained, quiet chuckle. “You are no winning cause of affection today either, my dear.”
Estinien’s lips drew into a straight line.
He hadn’t yet the opportunity to shine and clean his armor. It was still slicked with dragon’s blood in several areas, and the rest was surely covered in soot and grime. Despite the fact he knew his appearance was lackluster at best, the remark still made his eye twitch at the absolute disrespect his lover of all people had the nerve to throw at him.
Then again, his previous remark probably warranted such a reply, he reasoned.
“Your eyes,” Estinien began with a sigh, thrusting his hand a bit more forward to emphasize that he wished for Aymeric to grab hold, “they are unfocused. What’s more, you look as though sleep has eluded you for days.”
Another cough, louder and much more gravelly this time - it was unusual, certainly not one that was merely clearing his throat.
As Aymeric spoke next, Estinien could hear the strain in his words, feel that his throat was aching from the way he had to draw out some of his syllables to get them to emerge properly.
“It… it is not that. I have been sleeping. Nightly, this time.” The Lord Commander inhaled a deep breath, not taking notice as Estinien’s hand withdrew in favor of removing his gauntlets. “There were matters that needed tending… in the Brume, especially. I saw to them with my own hands, and have been doing so while you were away.”
Aymeric’s body jolted as Estinien moved his hand to carefully draw several strands of his hair away from his face, and the dragoon halted for a moment in surprise. Even without touching the skin, he could tell it was warmer than usual. As he pressed his hand flat against the other elezen’s forehead, it confirmed his fears. He was burning up, and had broken into a cold sweat.
“You’ve a fever.” Estinien sighed, reaching down to grab Aymeric’s arm and drag him up by force if necessary.
He was stopped as a hand flew to clasp around his wrist, halting his motion entirely.
“I-I am fine, truly. Pray, allow me to finish my work. Only then can I rest.”
Steel eyes rolled in annoyance, “absolutely not. You are to retire to your chambers. Now.”
Estinien was beginning to grow annoyed. If there weren’t still knights lingering about the Congregation’s halls, he would more than certainly have already lifted Aymeric and thrown him over his shoulder. It would be met with protest, of course, but at least he would be safely delivered to his bedchamber and deposited in his warm bed for the night.
“No… no, I-”
“For Fury’s sake, Aymeric. Do I need to carry you to your chambers as though you are a frail maiden? You will certainly force my hand if you keep meeting me with refusal to march.” Estinien spat, and the sag in Aymeric’s shoulders also gave way to a quiet sigh.
The dragoon could tell he was weighing his words, knew for certain that he wanted to rest. He could see it in the way he handled himself - how his back was slightly slouched, eyelids drooping and arms lying loosely over his chair’s armrests. This was the most exhausted Estinien had seen him in a long while.
Aymeric was ever the hard worker, this the dragoon knew by heart - if there were still duties that required his immediate attention, he would shirk proper meals and sleep in order to get them done. His determination towards his work was something Estinien had always admired. Yet, it was also something he regarded him as a fool for on more occasion than one, if only because of how utterly worn down Aymeric made himself some nights due to said determination.
After what seemed like minutes, the Lord Commander finally gave in and placed his hands (which Estinien now noticed to also be shaking) against his desk and pushed himself up onto his legs. His head was bowed, dark hair falling into his eyes as his body shuddered. He rose a hand, reaching blindly towards the dragoon who was at his side in an instant.
With a hand secured against Aymeric’s hip and the other gently holding his arm, they began to walk. Shaking, small steps as Estinien hoped the other wouldn’t trip over his own feet. He could hear the quiet sounds of frustration as the Lord Commander forced himself to move forward, obviously irritable that he felt this way in the first place. Rarely did he even get sick, much less this terribly.
“Are you alright?” Estinien spoke in a hushed, gentle tone, and Aymeric lulled his head in what he could only assume was a nod. “Shall I carry you?”
“N-No… I'm alright, just… just keep walking.”
With a grunt, the dragoon obeyed, keeping Aymeric locked at his side as they moved across the room. Slow. Steady. At an even pace, to not force any sudden movements. If his illness, whatever it be, was this horrible, Estinien had half the mind to fetch a chirurgeon once he had deposited the other safely into his bed with full certainty he was asleep.
In fact, that is most certainly what he was going to do, even if the other man would protest it in the morning, brushed away with quiet reassurances that he was fully fine and didn’t need a healer.
‘I am fine’, Estinien recalls Aymeric saying once, long ago when he fell ill during one of their nights in the field. To which, he was - the raven haired man was absolutely strong, but when his exhaustion due to illness brought him to his knees and nearly had him toppling over mid-fight, the dragoon nearly wanted to strangle him after he hauled him back to his tent. Out of worry, of course - though perhaps also because even though he was ill, Aymeric never ceased smiling at him, and it brought about a strange sense of frustration.
Strong yet bull-headed, Estinien mused; what a vile mixture, yet one he too found himself sharing.
Stopping in front of the door, the dragoon had no problem at all opening it with one hand, keeping his other at Aymeric’s hip to hold him steady. The slightly shorter elezen had now leaned his head against his shoulder, his eyes blinking slowly as though trying to rid himself of an obstruction in his vision. They fell fully shut for a good moment’s time, and the dragoon halted until those blue orbs were visible again.
Estinien was halfway dragging him now as they entered the hall, even though the Lord Commander was certainly doing his best at walking despite his stumbling and weak legs. Each time he would cough, his hand would fly to his mouth to muffle it. The sounds of frustration that followed only made Estinien cling to him that much harder - a subtle notion to tell him that he was still with him, that he didn’t need to weather this alone.
If any knights saw them during their journey to Aymeric’s chambers, they made no move to speak to them. It was something Estinien was thankful for, as he was certain Aymeric was also; neither of them had time for a conversation right now, much less a concerned knight that could perhaps halt them in favor of calling a healer immediately. Everything was going to be fine. They were in the final stretch now - one last hall, his bedchamber at the very end.
Aymeric’s breaths had turned into half wheezes as he tried unsuccessfully to clear his throat. Estinien kept a firm hold, leading him in silence with fear that he perhaps may also have a headache due to his fever. He didn’t want to press him on any matters right now, didn’t want to make things worse than they already were, and he knew in his gut that Aymeric felt absolutely miserable already.
In turn, Estinien’s emotions were doing flips - though Aymeric may be physically miserable, the dragoon’s mind was worse for wear if only because he simply had no idea how to fix this. He was The Azure Dragoon, not a healer. Illnesses were beyond his area of knowledge, and he could only hope this was nothing serious.
The doorway was in sight, now. Just a few more steps, and-
Aymeric collapsed.
Or rather, threw himself to his knees as a pained hack erupted from his throat - Estinien couldn’t catch him or hoist him upright in time, only drop to his knees beside him, steel eyes a watchful concern. Aymeric’s hand was clasped fully over his mouth, eyes wide and flicking around the hall before landing on the dragoon. An immediate cold chill washed over him. Those ice blue eyes, once proud and full of warmth now held nothing but fear.
As Aymeric drew his hand away and lowered it to glance into his palm, Estinien withdrew a sharp breath and immediately knew the source of his fear.
Blood. The thick red substance coated Aymeric’s palm in horrifyingly heavy amounts, and it wasn’t long before he coughed again, more of it dripping from his lips and landing on the ground as he lowered his head. Estinien’s eyes were wild. Panic was washing over him like a tide, and he hadn’t a single mind of what to do to stop this.
What should he do, where should he take him? His hand was shaking as he reached out to touch Aymeric's arm, noticing the way his entire frame shivered - the infirmary was too far away, his room was closer, but if he was deposited there, the healers would need to hurry to his location-
Estinien gave a low, guttural growl of anger at his warring thoughts, finally spurring himself into action.
With trembling hands and a determined fire burning low within him, Estinien hoisted Aymeric’s heaving body into his arms and hastily moved him into his bedchambers. He didn’t even bother closing the door, his strides carrying him to the large bed where he gently lay the suffering elezen. Aymeric’s head was placed on the pillow as he stared, half lidded, at the canopy above, breathing shallow and wheezing as he seemed to nearly struggle to withtake air.
The panic refused to settle, Estinien in a flurry of warring emotions as he grasped at Aymeric’s unresponsive hand and tried desperately to gain his attention.
“Aymeric. Blue. Look at me.” He began, and slowly those dulled eyes found home on him. “Breathe. I must go to find a healer, I need you to stay here and keep strong.”
At that, Aymeric’s hand found enough strength to grip at his own. A silent plea to not leave just yet. Estinien felt like his heart was going to spill over from sorrow, and he gripped it back tightly as he rolled his thumb against the burning skin.
“H-Hurry… I do not… I-I may not-” Aymeric was interrupted by a sickening, violent cough, and his grip became weak in turn.
Estinien ground his teeth together, and though he didn’t mean it to sound angered, he snarled, blood boiling with adrenaline.
“My precious bluebird…” It was a whisper, one that he wasn’t sure if Aymeric even heard over his heavy panting. “Pray, forgive me. I will return as swiftly as I can with aid.”
It was a cold stab in his heart when he let go of Aymeric’s hand and saw it reach out to grab him again as a source of solace, only to take a step back and avoid it entirely. Estinien couldn’t stay here. He had to, needed to fetch help immediately, and instead of exiting through the door he took to the window and leapt into the night sky.
In this moment as Estinien jumped from one rooftop to the next, he realized he finally had a name for the emotion he currently felt, one he had ignored and shrugged away for so long until now.
He was terrified.
---
"Red Throat", he heard the chirurgeons frantically yell once they finally arrived to tend to the fallen Lord Commander.
A disease that had just recently begun spreading, mainly amongst the Brume. Estinien had only heard reports of such an illness, one he never saw firsthand until now. He would hear as the dragoons gossipped, with them believing the illness to only be a terrible myth that served only to keep some of the easily frightened higher class away from such a lowly place. It had always been made out to be horrid. Perfectly healthy people just suddenly collapsing in the streets, a stream of blood pouring from their mouths as they vomited and spasmed.
Some didn’t make it through to the next morning, dying where they lay in a pool of their own blood.
When he first received word of what had befallen his love, Estinien was frantic. The poor healer that had relayed the news to him was absolutely terrified by his behavior, the dragoon’s voice increasing in volume out of worry to a near shout, fingers curled into tight fists as he resisted the urge to punch the wall out of frustration. He didn’t hurt anyone, heavens no - he was just terrible at conveying his emotions, and he was furious that he couldn’t do a thing to aid Aymeric in his time of need.
He felt helpless, and the only thing he could do was wait.
Wait, and do something he had long since forgotten: he prayed. His faith, though be it far from strong in these days, was something he relied upon in this moment. Praying, hoping that Aymeric will be strong enough to fight back against such a powerful sickness.
Please, dearest Halone - Estinien bowed his head in his hands - please, keep him safe.
Several days passed. When the chirurgeons first found Aymeric, he was nearly gone; covered in blood and just barely breathing. It was a miracle he survived the night, they told Estinien the day after. Most did not, but some who were unfortunate enough to gain such a disease also lacked proper care.
It was a repeated series of care over a course of several days that kept Aymeric alive and steady.
Currently he sat beside Aymeric’s bed, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed evenly without struggle. Reaching out, Estinien carefully grabbed the now dry and warmed rag draped over the Lord Commander’s head and dipped it into the small barrel of cool water that sat beside him. Wringing it proper, Estinien soon placed it back over the sleeping elezen’s forehead, taking a selfish moment to lightly stroke his cheek with his thumb.
Bereft of his armor, Estinien had stayed here since the moment he was allowed back into the room. The chirurgeons warned him against it, saying that if he were to stay in too close of proximity he ran the potential of contracting the disease himself. He merely scoffed, shooing them away once they were finished and closing the door behind them.
If anything, he knew they were frightened of him, so they certainly didn’t wish to argue his request. When they first began tending to Aymeric, it had taken four knights to fully restrain Estinien and drag him, struggling and shouting, out of the room to give the healers space. He could see from the doorway that Aymeric was barely breathing, body deathly still even as the chirurgeons moved him; they had to bolt the door tight, windows included, just to keep the frenzied dragoon away for a while.
He knew he had scared a few of them during that time, but he was panicked - he gave a silent hope that one day maybe they’ll forgive him for his actions.
Yet, he smirked, it’s also not like he’ll truly care if they don’t.
It’s been several days now, and the only thing that told Estinien the other was still with him was the slow, even breaths and occasional quiet whimper as he drifted in and out of consciousness, though he never truly opened his eyes or spoke.
Leaning back in his chair, Estinien sighed, eyes drifting to the small box at Aymeric’s bedside. It was already opened, and inside contained a variety of lengths of Rubycress Root - the single cure that was currently keeping the Lord Commander stable. The chirurgeons brewed it into a bitter smelling dark elixir that was poured down his throat at regular intervals, and had instructed Estinien on how to do the procedure when he prompted them about it. He was no healer, but by Halone if he wasn't determined to try for Aymeric's sake.
The procedure was simple enough, at any rate.
A dosage once in the morn, once in the eve - sometimes Lucia would even drop by to check on things, as well as help him administer it even if he didn’t need assistance. Though Estinien could tell she wished to do everything in her power to help Aymeric, as did he, she was currently taking over his paperwork and daily duties while he was bedridden. Bless her, she cared far more than her military mask would allow her to show, and the dragoon was thankful for how watchful she was over the Lord Commander.
Trailing his steel eyes to the window, the sky was reddening as the sun fell, and it was near time to administer another dosage.
Grabbing a handful of the root as well as the mortar and pestle, Estinien began to grind it into a powder. The grainy noise, somehow, was soothing to his ears and helped to keep his mind at ease. It kept his hands busy, eyes at focus as the thick brown root was reduced to a goopy powder in mere moments, which was then placed into a glass of warm water and mixed together into a deep brown concoction.
Each time he would administer it to Aymeric, he silently hoped that this time would be the one. This time, he’d open his eyes and a large smile would spread across his lips, leading into an ‘I am alright now’. It was unfortunate that such an instance seemed to only happen in fairytales.
Placing the now empty glass down, Estinien removed the rag across Aymeric’s head long enough to touch their foreheads together.
He felt cooler. His fever had certainly gone down, and Estinien breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It was progress, and he had certainly stopped convulsing and vomiting blood, so he could only treat it as a plus.
Now, if he would just open his eyes - only then would they both be able to finally relax.
It took every ounce of his being to draw away, placing the cloth once more in its resting place before he made move to grab his discarded armor from its place against the wall. Truthfully he had just kicked it into a corner with little regard to care, as Aymeric was the only thing dominating his thought processes right now. Which, when he thought about it, was not quite away from the norm.
Retrieving a bottle of armor polish from the large armoire on the far side of the room, he took to tending to his armor as a way to keep himself busy. In fact, Estinien took added care with each piece - he took his time, eyes lazily trailing over the obsidian metal and being certain to guide his rag into every nook and cranny he could happen across. Only when a piece gleamed in the small light from the overhead candles of the chandelier did he place it down beside him and move to the next.
It passed time. Minutes became hours, and when he was finally finished, he admired his work with a strange sense of pride. It had been a long while since he had cleaned it that well, at any rate.
Glancing towards Aymeric, Estinien noted he was still peacefully asleep. With hunger paining his stomach, he assumed it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to go and fetch dinner from the mess hall. Be it a small chunk of bread, or, if he were lucky, still warmed soup - he hadn’t the mind to care. Whatever was quick and would bring him back here faster is what he would have to eat for the night.
Just as he was getting ready to don his boots, a groan froze his his entire being.
Whipping his head around, he watched as Aymeric shifted, shoulders rolling as a pained expression flooded his face.
Estinien hadn’t moved so fast in quite a while, not even when dashing out of the way from a dragon’s flame. He was at his side, looming over him and cupping his cheek in his palm, quiet sounds meant to soothe tumbling over his lips. It was only when those blue eyes opened to greet him did his shoulders finally relax, every muscle in his body finally untensing as a rare smile crept to his lips.
Aymeric merely stared at him, eyes barely open but gazing fully in wonder at the one above him. As a smile too found its way to the Lord Commander, though weak and not quite as bright and warm as normal, it still made Estinien's heart nearly leap from his chest. Instead, he once more shoved the rag off of his lover’s head and pressed their foreheads together, rewarded with a quietly surprised chuckle from the one below him.
“I do not believe,” Aymeric began, struggling to find his voice as he cleared his throat, “that I have seen you look quite so happy in a long while, my love.”
Estinien gave a breathless huff of laughter, pressing a kiss to Aymeric’s forehead.
The Lord Commander’s smile seemed to grow, eyes opening ever so slightly more as he wrapped his arms around Estinien’s neck. The dragoon sat at the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around him in turn, earning a surprised hum as he lifted Aymeric up in order to hug him tighter and much more proper. There was a strong feeling overtaking him as he reveled in the warm body draped against his own.
A feeling to not let go, and so he didn’t - he wished to merely hold him and protect him from the dangers that near constantly claimed him.
The gentle nuzzles of Aymeric’s nose against the side of his head and the feathery kisses that were placed against his ear brought forth a pleased sigh from Estinien’s lips. He buried his face against the other’s shoulder, holding it there and pressing his hands tight against Aymeric’s back. He was alright. They were okay. He’s awake, and perfectly okay - this isn’t a dream.
He survived, through the determined care of the chirurgeons as well as Lucia and the dragoon himself, Aymeric was going to be okay.
“I do not want you venturing down there again. Not for a while.” Estinien finally spoke, and Aymeric gave a confused hum.
“Where? The Brume? Estinien, I-”
Aymeric was silenced as Estinien nuzzled his shoulder, and his arms, if possible, wrapped even tighter around him. “Pray, listen to me. If only just this once. For my sake.”
He was greeted by silence, eyes firmly shut as he focused on the sensation of holding Aymeric’s warm body tight against his own. Then, there was a quiet sigh from the other followed by a head dropping against his shoulder. It was rare for the Lord Commander to give in to his wishes so easily, especially one such as this - but, Estinien supposed, he too knew of the dangers after all he had endured over the past few days.
The fact he nearly lost his life to a terrible illness sweeping across that portion of the Holy See only served to further give point to his request, and he knew Aymeric understood.
Or so he hoped.
“My duties carry me throughout the entirety of the city. Should I be requested leave to travel there, I will not be able to directly refuse. However…” Aymeric trailed off, and Estinien rose his head to pull back and look at him.
He wore a sheepish smile, and the dragoon rose a brow, prepared to protest. “However…?”
“I will sleep more often in order to maintain proper rest, if it pleases you?”
Estinien’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “You mean-”
“I lied,” Aymeric gave a nervous, weak chuckle, “when I assured you I had been receiving proper rest… I truly hadn’t. I had mayhap an hour at best in the span of sixty.”
The dragoon, if he wasn’t currently just relieved Aymeric was alive would have fully turned to yelling at him for such an act. Truly, he would have. Perhaps wailed him over the head with a pillow for added effect.
Instead, he settled for a deep sigh as he shoved Aymeric back down to the bed and earned a surprised yelp for his decision.
“Fool.” Estinien snarled, moving to lay beside him and resume their embrace.
He could hear the quiet laugh, and his eyes narrowed from the bitterness of being lied to as he trained them on the cold stone wall. Soothing kisses began at his collarbone, trailing to his neck, and he grunted as he hugged Aymeric tighter, shifting to press as much of his body against him as he could. The slightly smaller of the two was quick to return such an embrace, careful lips fully at work at Estinien’s neck and moving in such ways to make the dragoon absolutely purr at how he was being handled.
Oh, how he missed this.
“Ah, by the way, Estinien…” Aymeric began, receiving a hum of acknowledgement from the dragoon, “when I was delirious - what was it that you called me before you slipped away? Might I hear it again?”
Estinien felt himself burn a bright shade of red. His fingers tapped nervously against Aymeric’s body as he sputtered, trying to find words. He could feel the grin against his neck, and he hissed as he soon too felt the sharp pain of a bite which was then nursed with loving kisses and gentle licks.
He shivered at the sensation, and cleared his throat.
“I… I know not of what you speak.” The dragoon rolled his shoulders in the best shrug he could manage. “I called you Aymeric. Your name.”
Aymeric laughed, and though his voice was quiet and weak, it was still a soothing melody to Estinien’s ears.
“Blue.” Aymeric stated simply.
“...What?”
“You called me Blue.”
Estinien huffed, burying his face in raven dark locks to hide his embarrassment. It was a worriedly heat of the moment nickname. One he was certain Aymeric wouldn’t even take notice to, given his fading senses.
“I may… have.” Estinien mumbled, placing kisses against the Lord Commander’s hair in hopes of detouring him from the subject.
Aymeric smiled, nosing against the mark he had made against the dragoon’s neck; Estinien marveled at the thought, knowing it would be a wonderful shade of color in the morning. “I am quite fond of it, ‘tis a nice nickname. As well, you also called me something else, did you not?”
Estinien sputtered, “go back to sleep. You need more rest.”
“Mayhap when you say it once more, I will consider it.”
“I swear to the Fury, Aymeric-” Estinien sighed, frustrated and clearly embarrassed.
Aymeric was wearing a sly grin. Despite still holding traces of the illness, he was still his usual playful self when alone with the dragoon. Some things refuse to change, come what may - and this was certainly one of them. Though he struggled to speak and his voice sometimes was just barely quiet enough to hear, he still found ways to torment Estinien’s heart and send it soaring into the clouds.
“Pray, tell me. Now that I am certainly not dying, mayhap I can hear it much more proper?” His voice was soft, halfway pleading, and Estinien hadn’t the heart to meet him with refusal.
Drawing his head back and cupping Aymeric’s cheeks in his hands, he gave a gentle peck to the tip of his nose and forced the warmest smile he could garner.
“...My dearest bluebird.” Estinien’s voice took a tone of warmth that left Aymeric nearly grinning as a red spread to his cheeks, nuzzling against the dragoon’s hands and leaving him awestruck at just how beautiful he was. “I love you.”
Even when just woken from a deep illness induced slumber, Aymeric was still unworldly beautiful in Estinien’s eyes. His icy eyes were regaining their vivid life, staring at him with a warmth that rivaled the sun as his hand gently moved to cup over the dragoon’s. His hair was tousled and in desperate need to be tended to, but somehow, he still managed to make it look absolutely attractive, and Estinien was barely able to resist the urge to card his fingers through the dark strands.
Somehow, he almost felt it unfair at how Aymeric’s beauty could radiate even in the most trying of times, whereas the dragoon would sometimes wake up in such a disheveled mess, one would wonder if he just got through traversing a horrible blizzard.
“...Now go back to sleep.” Estinien grunted, lips drawn in a straight line as he rested his head atop Aymeric’s and pulled him close, tugging the blankets over both of them. “I will be right here with you.”
The Lord Commander draped an arm over him, sighing in content. “Estinien, do you not fear gaining this illness as well? With as close as you are remaining to me… t’would be wise to keep an eye on your health over the coming week.”
Estinien snorted, “the healers troubled me enough with worries for the both of us. No amount of disease or injury will keep me from your side, Aymeric. I fear not such trivial things, the only thing I am truly afraid of is losing your presence at my side.”
“Hm,” Aymeric drew a leg over both of Estinien’s own, pressing closer against him, “truly romantic.”
The dragoon rolled his eyes, “hush, or mayhap next time I will let you lay here with the infernal illness by your lonesome.”
Aymeric snickered at that remark, and soon fell to blissful slumber.
Over the coming days, the now fully recovered Lord Commander gave order for the healers to properly investigate the source of the rampant illness plaguing the unfortunate. Though met with refusal at first, word of Aymeric’s illness traveled fast amongst the Congregation, stretching far into the Pillars. With enough widespread panic, the chirurgeons were forced to act as Aymeric willed, and set themselves to taking proper care of those diagnosed with the disease - lowborn or not.
Though now at ease that the Brume would be perhaps a tad safer to travel, every moment Aymeric considered taking a scenic route to scan the area, a looming shadow from above would deter him from the action. Estinien was watchful, guarding, and the dark haired elezen knew better than to argue with him. The dragoon had his way, and he was forced to remain far from the Brume for now.
However, when the area was declared proudly cleansed, Aymeric wouldn’t once allow a shadow to stop him in his venture. As he moved to roam down the path that lead to the Brume, he looked upwards, spying a dragoon on the rooftops that had lazily discarded his helm in favor of allowing his snowy hair to blow in the oddly warm wind. The Lord Commander cast him a smile, and he could only make out the faint curve of Estinien’s lips as he returned it.
What did surprise him, however, was when Estinien gracefully jumped to land beside him, helm tucked under his arm as he looked down at the slightly shorter man.
“If you are here to halt me, it will not work tonight.” Aymeric began, crossing his arms as he stared up at him with a steeled expression. “The area has been declared cleansed, and I have every intention to resume my prior work of taking care of those that need my aid before I retire to my quarters for the eve.”
Estinien smirked, “I did not jump down here to stop you, Lord Commander.”
Aymeric rose a brow in ample curiosity as to the meaning of his words. Soon Estinien’s helm was firmly placed back on his head, concealing his long hair and oddly soft eyes from view as he clasped a hand over the dark haired male's shoulder. There was a smile on the dragoon’s lips, albeit small, and the words that followed earned one in turn from Aymeric.
“Rather, I am here to offer you my hand. You needn’t tend to such things by yourself. Allow me to assist you, so you can retire sooner and actually get some rest.”
Aymeric nearly grinned, rolling his shoulders in a shrug as he made move to descend the ramp with Estinien beside him. “I am not one to refuse your company, no matter what form it be in.”
The dragoon hummed.
Before he could speak again, Aymeric quickly added, “if it gets me to bed sooner, especially.” A louder hum came this time, followed by a grunt as Aymeric lightly nudged Estinien in the side. “I know full well what you have been doing as of late, Estinien.”
The said man's lips slightly curved at the corners, narrowed eyes trailing to glance down at the one beside him. “Oh? Enlighten me.”
“Ever watchful outside my window to make sure that I am in bed before you leap away into the night,” as Aymeric spoke so matter-of-fact, he saw the sly grin form its way fully onto Estinien’s lips, “leaving a warm bowl of soup on my desk before I arrive so I partake of more than just bread in the morning. As well, you follow me from the rooftops to make sure I arrive at my chambers accordingly.”
The Azure Dragoon gave a low, knowing chuckle as he swept a hand over to pat Aymeric on the back. “Far too sharp for your own good. Had I known you would assume the soup was my doing and not Lucia’s, I would have left one of your favorite tarts along with it. Ah, but alas.”
Aymeric’s eyes nearly lit up at that reply, thoughts trailing to the sickeningly sweet chocolate filled tarts that he oh so very dearly loved from the crozier. He sighed, knowing Estinien was stifling his laughter at his disappointment. Fully did he wish to call him out on a variety of more things, but as they finally stepped off the ramp and into the streets of the Brume, his mind immediately became work focused.
Estinien stood tall beside him, arms crossed with his spear at his back - truly, he looked more like a bodyguard than a mere dragoon, and that perhaps wasn’t a bad thing.
Some people of the Brume despised Aymeric’s presence, after all.
“Well, shall we?” The Lord Commander began, glancing up at Estinien and receiving a curt nod. “...Ah, but before we do, may I make a request?”
“Depends,” the dragoon huffed, “so long as you do not request I still my lance if some cur makes an attempt to harm you, I will allow as many requests as you like.”
Aymeric gave a puff of laughter, “no, it does not involve that. By Halone, you needn’t even protect me, Estinien. I am a grown, able bodied man. I can handle myself.”
The dragoon opened his mouth to protest, before Aymeric placed a finger against it to silence him abruptly.
“I merely request that when we are finished here, you return to my chambers with me for the night.” Estinien rose a brow under his helm as his partner gave a loving smile. “You need rest too. Do not think I have yet to notice the bags under your eyes; sleep has eluded you, as it has me many a time in the past.”
The Azure Dragoon’s shoulders dropped, arms at his sides as his head turned away. He looked like a poor scolded puppy, and if he were out of armor and they weren’t in a public setting, Aymeric would have scooped him into a tight hug. Yet, they were already being eyed by some of the Brume citizens, so they had little time to do such things.
Later - Aymeric reminded himself - when they were behind closed doors away from prying eyes, where they were free to explore in intimacy.
“...Sometimes I do curse that you seem to notice even the smallest of details…” Estinien grumbled, followed by a rough sigh as he turned his head back to face Aymeric. “Very well. If you will allow me, I will stay at your side for as long as you wish.”
That earned another smile from the Lord Commander, “I always wish it. There is never a time where I would refuse you being at my side, unless being near me was putting you in danger. I will leave the window unlocked, when we finish here, pray slip inside my bedchambers and share a night with me.”
“That is an offer I will most certainly never refuse.”
Aymeric did grin at that, mostly out of amusement at the smirk that sprawled across Estinien’s lips. “Then, I suppose we shall begin our work to not delay. Are you ready?”
The dragoon laughed, following after the other as he made his way into the dreary cobbled streets. “Ever and always, Lord Commander.”