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It is quiet in Camp Dragonhead.
Belladonna still isn’t used to the cold winds of Coerthas – here, outside familiar eorzean territory, the snowfall never seems to cease. The fact that she had to discard her usual light robes and dresses in favor of layers and coats serves as a reminder that she is away from the comfort of home.
When all of this began, the concept of adventure thrilled her. Now, forced to flee from Ul’dah and seek shelter past the borders, she cannot help but question herself; is this what the Warrior of Light is supposed to be? Framed and pursued, a coward like she is?
Her thoughts are interrupted when Haurchefant returns with two cups of cocoa, setting one in front of her at the large table of the House Fortemps base of operations.
“There we go”, he speaks softly, a small smile on his lips, as he takes a seat beside her.
Most of his knights are on patrol or training. This is little time he has to himself during the business with the heretics, yet he asked to spend it with her. His interest in her adventures, this almost childlike enthusiasm he showed from the first time they met back before she had to flee, has always made her unable to deny his requests.
“Thank you, Haurchefant...it really helps having a warm beverage in this weather.”
“Pray tell me, friend”, he leans forward a bit, palms on his thighs, his cup untouched, “how are you faring in Ishgard? Bound by my duties here, I haven’t had the chance to return to the manor in a while. I’m sure my father has been treating you well, but I can imagine Emmanellain has been a nuisance”.
“Oh, I wouldn’t really say so. I still don’t understand why he calls me “old girl” and he has been careless a few times, but your family has offered us their hospitality. Thank you, again, for taking us in. Your father is a kind man”, Belladonna replies.
Haurchefant wears an unusual wistful expression. “He is, cold though he may seem on a first impression. And of the city itself? It must be very different than the landscape you’re used to. Have you wandered around the Hoplon? The markets have a lot of trinkets I think you would be drawn to”.
“I haven’t seen all of the city yet, since we keep getting distracted”, Belladonna hesitates a bit, fingers fiddling with the cup’s handle, “but I have been to the Jeweled Crozier. Your garments are truly beautiful. On my first visit, I forgot about the reality of our situation for a moment”.
She does not mention the suspicious glances, the subtle whispers, to him. Naturally, an Au Ra would not be very welcome in the busy streets of Ishgard...though the rumours of dragon descendance have long been disputed, she can understand why a culture at war with dragons for hundreds of years would wince at a foreigner with shiny scales and a lizardlike tail.
She feels thankful to Haurchefant, that he did not think twice before welcoming her to his abode.
The smile does not leave his lips when he speaks. “I assure you, Belladonna – next time I have the chance to visit the Pillars, I will take you to see the gardens proper. A woman of your lifestyle deserves a much needed change of scenery, and I would argue there are better places for us to converse and enjoy ourselves than this outpost”.
“I would love that, Haurchefant”. A small smile makes its way to Belladonna’s lips as well, and she feels a subtle heat in her cheeks at the implications of strolling through Ishgard’s streets alone with the Elezen knight. Observing him, she cannot help but wonder if he has ever felt out of place like she has, due to him being an illegitimate child.
Her cocoa has barely been sipped. Deciding that she has nothing to lose, she decides to face her unease.
“May I voice a concern to you?”
“Yes! … yes, of course you may”, he says as though he was expecting the conversation to be steered this way, sitting a bit straighter.
“I’m … not sure what to make of all this. I’ve been feeling this way ever since the incident in Ul’dah. I’ve embraced the gift of the Echo, and I appreciate the support of the Scions, but there is a truth I have difficulty accepting myself”.
Haurchefant does not flinch, expecting her to continue.
“It’s that in reality, I’m scared, Haurchefant. And I think I’ve been scared every step of the way. So much has been going on, and I’ve always dreamed of adventure, of experiencing something larger than myself, but not like this … the dragons and your people are trapped in a seemingly endless slaughter, my friends are missing, and I feel stuck in the midst of it all. I feel like I must do something and it is not clear to me what that is. It was fine as long as Minfilia was there. She was my guiding light. She always knew what had to be done. Without her, I...I don’t know how to continue.”
Belladonna’s gaze is lowered, eyes fixed on her cup, mind wandering. Blinking, she tries her hardest to stop her eyes from watering.
A moment of silence passes between the two.
“...Belladonna, my dear friend”, Haurchefant starts. He almost hesitates, choosing his words wisely, as if he has something fragile next to him. A flower that he must handle with care.
“You speak as though your actions are invalid, and that troubles me. Of course you were not alone in your endeavours, but give yourself the credit you deserve – even though you have been scared, you have banished primals, you have aided us, you have traveled through Coerthas on your chocobo’s back. That alone speaks to the strength within you. Once upon a time, I felt helpless as well. I felt as though I had to prove my worth, and I dreamed of joining the Temple Knights. But we are worth more than the titles we are given”, something sparks in his eyes as he continues.
“When I first heard the Warrior of Light was to arrive at our Camp, I expected to see a battle-worn woman, clad in the finest of armor. Do you know how intrigued I felt when I saw you walk in? Of course the scars of battle, physical and mental, are visible in the way you carry yourself...but you seemed so pure and innocent. I could not fathom you had done all that I’d heard. I knew I had to hear more. And when I did, all was clear”, he says without elaborating.
He looks toward the frost gathering on the windowpane, then back at her, his smile faint.
“What you feel is normal, and there is no shame in not knowing the way. The only shame would be in ceasing to walk. And ...”
At these words, Belladonna lifts her gaze, unable to ignore the itchiness in her eyes. Somehow, Haurchefant’s seat had moved a little closer to hers.
“Whether by sword or by word, know that I will be there should you need me. That, I promise”.
She thinks back at the way he cheered for her at the arena, his voice like a guideline to urge her forward. A person who admired her deeds as the Warrior of Light, but ultimately saw her for who she is underneath. A small flame keeping her thoughts warm with its presence, despite the cold that seeps through the stones. To her, he is love and he is hope.
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It is quiet in Camp Dragonhead.
Belladonna’s gloved hands trace the outline of the desk, unfinished paperwork still resting upon it. She dares not touch it– as if by disturbing the state it was in before, she is also erasing the traces of him still lingering in this room.
She walks where he once walked and talked to her in high spirits, as they recounted their respective tales during their times of respite. She sits where he once sat, in a chair that seems too large for her form. She glances at the portrait above, the one that was hung after his death. His eyes are fierce, looking ahead, as if looking towards the future. His features are noble and proud, yet innocent and boyish. He is smiling, as he always did. Even when he was dying, even when his cold hands were entangled in hers and she thought she was living a nightmare...even then, he was smiling.
“Oh, do not look at me so...”
She knows it was not her fault. She still feels a guilt cutting through her chest, a stab at her heart. She knew the dangers of their mission – why hadn’t she thought of this outcome? Why was she certain they would all emerge victorious, like in a fairytale, and one day she could take him to see the Twelveswood, and the Sapphire Market, and the Arcanist’s Guild in Limsa?
She didn’t even get to tell him, although something inside her tells her he knew.
She tries to ignore the way her heart drops when Alphinaud walks in with two cups of cocoa. Part of her still expected them to be three.
Alphinaud himself is quiet as he sees her. He gives her the time she needs, before she lifts her head to look him in the eyes. Her eyes are red from the sleepless nights, nevertheless he smiles at her, and she does too.
A smile better suits a hero.