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The question itself had seemed perfectly innocuous, a bit of light conversation: “And how are your father’s new wards adjusting to life in House Fortemps?”
But something about Aymeric’s question caused Haurchefant to regard him curiously before answering.
“Everything is coming along admirably,” he replied at last, pleasantly neutral. “Tataru has taken to spending her time at the Forgotten Knight, striking up conversations. She’s become quite social. I had worried at first, as we don’t see too many Lalafells here in Ishgard, but she’s managed to —”
“Oh, indeed?” Aymeric interrupted impatiently, a rudeness he would never have allowed himself with any but his dearest and most forgiving friends. “And the others?”
“Well, the Leveilleur boy struggles greatly with his regrets over the whole Crystal Braves incident, but he’s found some respite in the Fortemps library, which as you know — ”
Aymeric sighed deeply. “Haurchefant.”
“I believe Artoirel has found it something of an imposition —”
“Haurchefant, please. I will freely admit it: I am particularly concerned with Lady Nendo’s situation. Her experience in Ul’dah was particularly traumatic. I deeply regret my absence, and my consequent inability to speak on her behalf. It is only meet that I should ensure she’s adjusting well.”
“Well, you needn’t worry about that,” said Haurchefant cheerfully. “Dorayaki is quite well. She and Emmanellain have become fast friends, thick as thieves.”
“Dorayaki. The scholar. The Champion of Eorzea. That Dorayaki. And that Emmanellain.”
Haurchefant chuckled. “I thought exactly the same. But she seems to find him unaccountably endearing. I think the episode with the Vanu Vanu made her feel somewhat protective of him. And he’s always said, ever since he was a little lad, that he would have liked to have a sister.”
“Oh? I didn’t know that about him.”
“Well, it was hardly anything we could manage to bring about before now, was it? But apparently she feels quite the same. Lately they’ve spent a great deal of time at the Forgotten Knight, dancing and drinking. I think he helps her forget her worries about the other Scions. They’ve been spotted at the Jeweled Crozier as well. The shopkeepers must dread to see them coming. With her accounts frozen in Limsa, neither one of them has any money.”
Aymeric did not much care for the image of them dancing the way patrons sometimes danced in the Forgotten Knight, especially after a few drinks.
“Actually, I believe the pair of them have planned a small sortie this afternoon. She’s said she enjoys fishing, and he offered to take her out to the Twinpools — Dragonspit, I believe he said.”
“Oh, Dragonspit,” Aymeric repeated. “The hot spring.”
“Yes, I believe he mentioned it specifically.”
“The pool where as young men we used to take girls we fancied to try and get them out of their petticoats.”
“If I recall correctly,” said Haurchefant, “it was the place where Estinien and I took girls we fancied to try and get them out of their petticoats. You always had far too many scruples.”
Aymeric, who had some sense of Emmanellain’s potential for scrupulosity, did not take much comfort in this reminder.
- - - - - -
For all his many faults, Emmanellain shone with his love for the Coerthas Highlands. Seeing them through his eyes, Dora found herself falling in love with them too. He loaned her a black chocobo from the Fortemps stables, and together they flew across the frozen landscape, all the way to the far reaches of the Slate Mountains. He told her, wide-eyed, that ancient dragons lived openly, unchecked, on the other side. The day had dawned brilliantly crisp, with endless vaulting blue skies and sun that sparkled on the snow like gems and gleamed off the cliff faces, frosted over with sheets of ice. He pointed out landmarks of note and described the winter sports he and his brothers had always played (which had become year-round sports after the Calamity). He was perfectly hopeless at fishing, chattering loudly enough to frighten away their quarry, but he was great fun.
Once she caught as much as they could carry home, they spread out a blanket and shared a supper of trapper’s quiche and mulled cider. “So tell me truly, old girl,” Emmanellain said, once he had exhausted the local gossip and his many anecdotes about the Highland adventures of his childhood, “how are you feeling about your new life in Ishgard?”
“I like it very much here,” said Dorayaki, politely and honestly. “I was thinking I might inquire about studying at the Athenaeum —”
“No, no, that’s boring,” said Emmanellain, waving a hand dismissively. “Tell me something interesting about being here. Has anybody captured your heart yet? Are you falling in love? Trysting in secret perhaps? Wasting away with yearning?”
Dora laughed. “I’m not entirely certain I should tell you, considering that you’ve just spent the last three hours gossiping about everyone else’s love lives. How am I to trust you won’t turn around and share my secrets with everyone else at the first chance to become centre of attention at some noble party?”
“Dorayaki, you wound me!” Emmanellain pantomimed being struck down by an arrow to the chest. “Anyway, you’ll be at any noble parties the Fortemps family attends for the foreseeable future. You’re far too much of a curiosity, for good or ill; they’ll never forgive us if we leave you at home.”
“I . . . don’t know how I feel about that,” said Dora, frowning.
“Oh, come now,” Emmanellain chided. “I shall tell you my secret first, if it will put you at ease. I have set my cap at Lady —”
“— Laniaitte de Haillenarte, I know.” Dora shook her head. “I question how you are defining the word ‘secret’ if you think that qualifies.” She paused to consider for a moment. “I will tell you, but only because I don’t mind if he learns that I admire him. He’s an admirable man; I’m sure it would shock him very little.”
Emmanellain leaned in expectantly. “It’s Haurchefant, isn’t it? It’s always Haurchefant.”
“It isn’t,” said Dorayaki, “though he certainly is an admirable man, and I do love him dearly. He’s a treasure. But no, if you’re asking about romantic feelings in particular, I would name someone else.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, old girl!”
Dorayaki’s cheeks reddened slightly, but she had agreed to tell her secret, and she would not back down now. “I find myself quite drawn to Ser Aymeric.”
“Aymeric, of course!” Emmanellain cried out. “You should ask my brother to put in a good word. Both of my brothers, really; he’d listen to either. But Haurchefant in particular is a dear friend of Aymeric’s, something like a brother almost. Aymeric has no brothers, so far as we know, but Haurchefant seems to have rather a surfeit of them.”
Dora shrugged. “I would prefer to think Ser Aymeric didn’t need his friends to convince him of his interest in me.”
“You’d make a beautiful pair,” Emmanellain insisted with great loyalty. “Already I’m imagining what I might wear to your wedding.”
“Emmanellain, really!” She pretended exasperation, but she was laughing. “A highly-placed man of Ishgard isn’t going to marry anybody with horns and scales, is he?”
She was attempting a lighthearted deflection, but Emmanellain seemed to take the question seriously. “You know, I think he might. Plenty of men, given a choice between political power and their lover, might treat the relationship like a dirty little secret, whether or not that’s what they really think; they can’t let it get in the way of their ambitions. But Ser Aymeric’s the kind of man who, once he’s decided something’s right, he’ll go any length to stand up for it. Foolish lengths, even. He’s a man worth admiring, I think. And to the best of my knowledge, he’s not got another lover already, so the playing field is clear!”
“Oh!” Dora’s green eyes widened. “I had not even considered the possibility that he might be attached to somebody else. I just . . . this might sound horribly vain, but all through our first meeting he scarcely seemed to take his eyes off me, and I suppose I just assumed . . . well, I thought if he had somebody waiting for him at home, he wouldn’t have looked at me like that.”
“No, not him,” Emmanellain promised. “Faithful to a fault. You’d be setting your sights high trying to snare him. But that’s fine; so would he.”
- - - - - -
“. . . Ser Aymeric? Did you hear me?”
He surfaced from his distracted state like one waking from a dream. “I . . . forgive me, Lucia. My concentration is poor today, it would seem.”
“Ever since your conversation with Lord Haurchefant, you have seemed rather distracted,” she acknowledged.
“Forgive me. You were trying to tell me something about — ?”
“Armoury requisitions.” She smiled apologetically. “Not the most riveting subject matter on the best of days, I’m afraid.”
“But vitally important all the same. I must endeavour to focus.”
“If I may, Lord Commander . . . ?”
“Lucia, you know I rely upon your willingness to speak your mind freely.”
“You might just ask her to dine with you.”
“The girl is an exile,” he said. “She’s fled her home, accused of treason, her friends have scattered to the winds, and Eorzea’s primal threat seems to have spread all the way to the Sea of Clouds. The timing couldn’t be worse.”
“Nor is it like to get better,” Lucia pointed out. “You may have to reconcile yourself to less-than-ideal timing if you want her.”
“I will not burden her,” Aymeric said firmly. “No, this is childish. She has given me no reason to suppose my attentions would be encouraged. I will endeavour to put it out of my head. She is free, I have no claim to her. Whatever passes between them on their outing, it is not my business.”
“I would not worry on that score, Lord Commander,” said Lucia. “It’s Emmanellain.”