Work Text:
~
Someone delivers the message to him while he’s holed up in his office.
He’s completing this month’s balance sheets—and it’s record profits yet again, which unfortunately also means the highest pay-outs yet for the Crown, operating expenses and every other deduction that makes Lloyd want to weep pitifully as the final number decreases lower and lower.
He’s so focused on the calculations that he jolts when the door clicks open, one of the guild assistants poking her head in.
Lloyd almost shoos her away—they know he doesn’t like being disturbed when he’s in this kind of mood, engrossed as he combs through his documents—but it’s the smile that gives it away.
Elated, awed, slightly breathless as she trips over her words, her cheeks still red and flustered. He already knows before she’s opened her mouth that she’s seen their return first-hand.
“Prepare the tea room,” Lloyd says, and she nods quickly and leaves as soon as she came.
Another expense to add… Lloyd thinks with exasperation, looking back down at his papers. Even so, he can feel the grin tugging at his lips.
By the time he leaves his office, the entire guildhouse has kicked into a rapid pace, his workers scrambling around in a mad dash to make things presentable. Someone is wheeling in a large cart of their finest drinks to arrange on the mantel. A page boy has likely already sprinted off to fetch desserts and refreshments from the nearby parlour.
It often went untouched given the company he would be entertaining—but the Frontera Guild would spare no expense when it came to hospitality, and everyone knew the strict procedure for their esteemed guests.
Regardless, he ducks his head into the tea room.
“No plant stuff for Moira,” he reminds, and Emily looks up from setting the table to give him a dry look.
“Got it, Master Lloyd,” she says, smiling brightly, and it’s probably the nicest way that someone has told him to shove it.
They like Emily, thus Lloyd always makes her drop everything else she’s doing to service them for their visits. It also means she probably knows their preferences better than he does and doesn’t appreciate being micro-managed.
“Sorry…” he adds sheepishly. “It’s just that—”
“Guild satisfaction is the number one factor of party retention,” Emily recites with audible exasperation, before sending him a fond look. “I’ve never seen you waste so much money as you do for them.”
Lloyd shrugs. “It’s a worthwhile investment.”
It did bug him when they politely thanked him for the shower of goods with minimal interest, but he’d long since gotten used to it. They might be a tough crowd—but they returned the cost ten times over, so frankly, they could spit in his face and he’d grovel at their feet.
“Hm,” Emily says.
Lloyd sends her a look. “What’s that mean?”
“Nothing,” she offers, innocently. “I just think—maybe they stay at this guild for a reason other than the cream scones?”
“Well yeah, loyalty’s probably part of it,” Lloyd shrugs.
For some reason, that makes Emily giggle. “Loyalty,” she whispers with a bitten-back smile. Then at his questioning stare, she waves him away. “Go greet them, Master Lloyd.”
He rolls his eyes, but remembers to mouth a quick thank you as he slips back out the door.
He has one hour to coordinate everyone else—it’s a short walk up Frontera County’s main road to the guild house, but their guests will be slowed by the townsfolk coming to greet them. Word spreads quickly when the Iron-Blood Knights return from an expedition. Until then, it’s all hands on-deck.
“They’re here!” Someone calls from the front entrance, and Lloyd’s head whips over.
“Already—?” he demands, but he doesn’t wait for a response before he strides outside—
—And comes face-to-face with Javier Asrahan on the front doorstep.
Lloyd flinches back, thankfully stopping in time before he tramples clean over him—but really, he’s more worried for himself than Javier. It would probably feel akin to running face-first into a brick wall.
“Iron-Blood Knight,” he greets, smiling widely. “It is such a pleasure, as always, of course. I heard news of your victory against the great beast in Asfahan. Truly impressive. The guild will have a banquet tonight in your honour.”
He may be laying it on a bit thick, but the payout from the Asfahan Crown is still fresh in his mind.
Besides, unlike the rest of his party members, Javier seemed to enjoy when Lloyd acted like a kiss-ass and showered him with attention. He thought a stoic swordsman like Javier would be immune to flattery, but the shameless theatrics never failed to make Javier’s face ease into a gentle smile.
“Lloyd,” he says softly. “It has been a while.”
Four months, to be accurate. It’s the longest expedition that Lloyd’s ever requested from them, but Javier agreed to the mission without a blink. Lloyd didn’t even have to sweet-talk him. Javier once mentioned that he prefers staying close to home in Frontera, but for an S-class party, jobs of fitting caliber often sent them across the continent.
Lloyd ensured they were more than fairly compensated for their travels, but it seemed Javier had a sentimental side. He often wrote letters back to the guild, updating them on the party’s status and inquiring on Frontera and the guild’s affairs. Lloyd hand-wrote the responding letters himself, of course. VIP service for his most valuable assets.
“Where’s everyone else?” Lloyd asks.
He tilts his head to look past Javier’s shoulder—his wings are out too, so Lloyd has to stretch his neck to peer over them. He only sees the vast crowd that’s gathered on the road, and a large number of them are still gawking at Javier. Javier tends to have that effect on people.
“Not far behind,” Javier answers. “They are greeting the townsfolk.”
Lloyd peers at him. “And their party leader isn’t joining?”
“… I wished to report to you first,” Javier responds—he’s wearing an odd expression, something between sheepish and— before Lloyd can discern it, Javier abruptly drops into a bow, his hair falling into his face and obscuring it. “Guild Master.”
Lloyd snorts, reaching out to rap his knuckles against Javier’s skull. “Nice try. You wanted to weasel out of mingling. You should try to enjoy the attention.”
Javier only bats his hand away, lifting his head to send him another easy glance—it makes the words catch in Lloyd’s throat. He steps back.
“How was Asfahan?” he asks.
“Hot,” Javier answers. “And sparse. I would have written more often, had there been more outposts—”
Lloyd waves him off. “Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses. “You know, if there’s ever anything actually important, I’d write to you. You don’t have to keep checking in.”
“I know,” he murmurs. “You are more than capable, but I…”
“Oh?” Lloyd grins, leaning in. “Missed me then, did you?”
Javier glares at him sullenly, then answers, “Yes.”
Lloyd’s mouth parts in surprise—suddenly, he can’t remember where he was going with this teasing, but Javier turns his head away, then glances back at him, scoffing.
“We used to spend every day together,” he says. “Is it so surprising that I would miss you?”
“I— I guess not,” he stutters. “I mean, we still see each other even if I’m retired. And you have a good party now.”
“I do,” Javier agrees. “And you have my thanks for introducing us, but— Lloyd, I wanted to—”
“Lloyd!”
He catches one glimpse of Arosh barrelling over Javier’s shoulder before he’s swept up into a crushing hug, and it forces an agonised sound from his chest as Arosh squeezes him tightly.
“It is good to see you, oink!”
“You too, Arosh,” he grunts out. “Hey, could you put me down now—”
Then he wheezes again as he feels himself pulled out of Arosh’s tight grip and lifted even higher.
“Hey Moira,” Lloyd offers. “You look beautiful as always.”
“Kiss-ass,” she grunts, before mercifully setting him down. He stumbles on his feet and when he looks back up, Arosh is crowding against Javier and pulling at his coat.
“You flew ahead without us, oink—! Why would you leave—”
Abruptly, Siluria’s head pops between them, and she pushes Arosh back with a loud drudging groan—it’s rather impressive, given that Siluria is half his size.
“That was the plan. He was supposed to—” Then abruptly, Siluria turns to him and smiles politely. “Hello, Guild Master Lloyd!”
“Your highness,” Lloyd greets, grinning—Siluria glares at him as usual, but she quickly returns her focus to scolding Arosh about running ahead. Lloyd isn’t sure if he’s to blame when Javier left first, but he knows not to argue. It seems Moira feels the same, or maybe she can’t be bothered to care.
They balance each other out nicely, both personality-wise and in battle. They got along seamlessly just as Lloyd predicted. It took a long time to finally find talent that could keep up with Javier, but Lloyd knows Javier was never suited to be a lone wolf, as stoic as he is.
“Coming in?” Lloyd offers, gesturing back to the guildhouse. “We’ve got refreshments.”
“Oh, apologies,” Siluria says, gasping. “I totally forgot. Moira and Arosh promised they would come shopping with me. We have to replenish our supplies.” Then she shoves Javier forward. “You two go on ahead.”
“... Oh,” Lloyd says, blinking as he looks back between them and Javier. He’s still watching Lloyd blankly.
“We did?” Arosh asks, looking as clueless as Lloyd feels. “I do not remember this, oink. I want Javier to come to the weapon’s smith with me—”
Moira slaps him over the head.
“We did,” she says gruffly. “Goodbye.”
Lloyd watches dubiously as they all retreat, then turns to Javier.
“You should go with them,” Lloyd gestures pointedly.
Javier smiles at him. “And why should I do that?”
Rolling his eyes, Lloyd finally says, “I ordered you a new sword, and it’s ready for pick-up at the weapon’s smith. Surprise.”
Javier blinks at him, so Lloyd grabs him by the shoulders and turns him around.
“Shoo,” he says. He can feel his cheeks heating up.
“You... You paid attention to my letters,” Javier says.
Lloyd does. He reads them twice-over, every night. There’s a wooden box in the bottom drawer of his desk where Lloyd stores every letter that Javier has sent, and that’s why Lloyd knows that Javier’s sword has two chips on the blade and has become wobbly on the hilt—but he'd know even without Javier telling him. It always happened during their travels. It’s a recurrent problem due to Javier’s strength, even with how he embeds his sword with mana.
“Yeah, I do,” Lloyd grunts. “Now go. See you later.”
He gives Javier another shove, and Javier takes one step forward before turning back to him with an unreadable expression.
“What’s that face for?” Lloyd asks.
Javier falters for a moment—then he leans in, and Lloyd blinks at how he can suddenly see the details up-close in Javier’s blue irises, and he feels their lips press together softly.
“See you later,” Javier whispers.
Then he steps back and strides away.
Lloyd stares blankly after him, watching how his cape unfurls in the wind and fans out—ahead, his party members are waiting for him, and Lloyd realises they were watching that exchange like hawks.
When Javier makes it back to the others, Arosh punches him roughly on the shoulder and claps him on the back, loudly exclaiming something that makes the others burst into laughter—Siluria claps her hands and lets out a delighted sound.
He sees Moira’s lips move, but he can’t tell what she’s saying to Javier—regardless, it makes Javier’s cheeks turn red, his lips curling into a faint smile. Lloyd watches how he talks with them quietly, his eyes low as he murmurs something—then he turns around and meets Lloyd’s eyes.
He waves. Numbly, Lloyd lifts his hand and waves back.
His hand still hovers in the air, faltering as he watches them turn back around and start their pace away. Then it flies to his mouth and he presses his fingers to his lips. They’re still tingling, and Lloyd can’t help but loop the memory in his mind again, recalling the sensation of Javier’s lips gently pressing against his own.
“Fuck,” Lloyd mutters, then he starts sprinting after them. “Hey—!” he calls.
They stop, and Lloyd skids to a halt in front of Javier, his heart in his throat.
“Maybe I could join you for the next one,” Lloyd offers. “Old time’s sake, and all that.”
Javier’s face lights up with a beautiful smile, and Lloyd realises that he’s rather fucked.
“I would like that,” he answers softly. “We leave at dawn. Bring your shovel.”
Lloyd nods and whirls around, striding back to the guildhouse with his head ducked between his shoulders. People are staring. Lloyd meets the eyes of one person and they flinch back—and that’s how, belatedly, Lloyd realises he’s grinning like a maniac.
“Emily—!” he calls as he strides into his office. “I’m taking the week off starting tomorrow.”
Standing rather casually by the front window—the one that overlooks the road in front of the Frontera Guild House—Emily blinks innocently at him.
“Oh?” she asks, smiling. “And will you need your coat and shovel fetched from storage?”
Lloyd drops into his chair. The movement is shakier than he wants it to be, but his entire body feels wired, electrified—a sensation that he hasn’t felt in a long time. Not since their last adventure in the Pantara range, where Javier had wrapped his cloak around Lloyd as they sheltered from the storm, his fingers tracing over Lloyd’s neck as he clasped the buckle.
“Yeah,” Lloyd mumbles, propping his face against his hand. “And double the payout for the Iron-Blood Knights.”
It will be a worthwhile investment. He’ll recoup the expenses when they join bank accounts, after he convinces Javier to marry him.
He wonders if Javier still remembers his singing.
~