ᴇsᴛɪɴɪᴇɴ ᴠᴀʀʟɪɴᴇᴀᴜ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragonssung) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
synthneon2022-02-11 05:36 pm
dragonssung) wrote in synthneon2022-02-11 05:36 pm
Entry tags:
echoes of truth | ❝ tales of loss and fire and flame. ❞
Every word on our hearts engraved
In the dark you will not stray
Forge ahead, till the end, we pray
no subject
Oh, Aymeric, don't be upset. I shouldn't have asked you to do more than you're ready to do. The walk here was hard enough... I didn't think .... I should have. [ She squeezes his hand again before guiding it to rest inside the blankets. Then, she moves to pick up their breakfast once more into her hands. The bowl is settled in her lap and she fills the spoon full before raising it to his mouth for him to eat. ] You first, then I'll follow.
Then, after you've slept and woken up, I'll be certain to ask for two meals.
[ As she is certain he will not stand for sharing a meal with her again. ]
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And even as she tries to reassure him and holds up the spoon for him to take the food from it, his shoulders sink lower and for the briefest of seconds, his eyes slide closed. But they only remain that way for a moment, seconds at most, and when they open, he leans forward accepting the offered bite.
It still feels to him as though she ought to focus only on caring for herself and meeting her needs, but even if he had the strength and the words to form that argument, it seems clear enough that she would refuse to accept the notion that caring for him is a futile effort.
And so, for the moment, he remains compliant, taking the food and slowly swallowing it, the only other sign of the disappointment he directs at himself being the way his hands curl beneath the blanket's folds. ]
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I'm sorry I can't do more. [ Her gaze drops to their breakfast and she fills the spoon once again. She intends to hold herself true to her statement. ] I can't reverse what's been done...
[ The grip on the spoon tights just a fraction. ] All I can do is care for you and help your strength return. Even if you decide to return to Thordan and leave me behind... you will at least be able to do it being able to stand and move.
[ Alkaid quickly takes her sharing into her mouth to help stifle her words. She is certain once he is healed and can move? He will attempt to return to Ishgard once more. Ishgard, after all, is his first love and his purpose. So much so that it would seem not even a primal of his father's making couldn't remove it from him. Instead, the primal warped events, and she has no doubt that he feels as if he has failed his homeland.
She doubts King Thordan would let her near Ishgard and would send the others enthralled after them. She knows Estinien would not let Aymeric return to Ishgard in his tempered state. Despite the room that would of been afforded to him should he be a visitor? He is still a prisoner unable to serve his homeland, despite how the vision of it all is twisted in his mind.
She fills the spoon once more and holds it up for him to eat. ]
... do you remember the first time I could heal you? The night of the conference when Nidhogg made his declaration. [ A sad smile touches her face despite the joy, and quite honestly, fulfillment she felt that night. ] I promised to be the armor that you needed; to protect you when no one else might. That way your heart would not hurt as it did the day Nidhogg destroyed the conference meeting.
[ She brushes her thumb along the metal of the spoon once he has eaten his bite. Alkaid closes her eyes and returns it to the soul-rice mixture to gather her own bite. ]
I failed to live up to that promise. You don't need to try and reassure me that I haven't... because I can see it. [ An exhale leaves her. ] Your father hurts you every time you reach out for me, doesn't he? He'll make you pick between me or Ishgard--saving his Ishgard. If I had lived up to that promise then you wouldn't have need to pick between the two. No apologies could make up for that.
[ Alkaid closes her eyes once more as she eats her bite. ]
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She might doubt that her presence is doing him any good at all, but if she were to leave him for any reason, all desire to even attempt moving and speaking would flee with her. Somewhere inside him, he knows that she is his driving force, the spark that keeps him going even when the odds are stacked against him. That was very much the case during the war against the dragons, and it is the case now.
If only he could tell her that she has no reason to apologize, that she is the only reason he has come as far as he has. And although he might be exhausted beyond belief and wavering on the brink of despair, he is still holding on because she has not given up.
Her words wash over him even as they take turns eating; not everything she says breaks through to him, but in a way, it doesn't have to. Just the sound of her voice is comforting, easing the pain he still feels in his heart and in his body as well.
But how can he reassure her that she has not failed to keep her promise when he cannot even speak? Thordan might tear them apart once again, and that knowledge causes just the barest amount of quickening inside him, beating against the stagnation that has taken hold of his aether and his will alike.
It is not enough, because what little will he still has is not sufficient to break the primal's hold. His shoulders tremble as he tries to fight what might as well be yet another futile attempt, but he must try.
First one arm moves, and then another, unfolding themselves from underneath the blanket. His movements are slow, and again, his arms shake as if protesting the actions he is not ready for. But even if he taxes what little strength he has, reaching out for her is of greater importance.
It seems to take a span of hours rather than minutes, but his fingers eventually brush against hers, fingertips bending to close around her own. Then, a line of tension forms in his shoulders as if anticipating a strike from Thordan, but as more minutes pass, nothing seems to happen.
Still, he does not relax, only leaving his hands just barely holding onto hers.
Without the use of his voice and his words, this gesture might only seen as him further seeking comfort from her, but inside, he is desperate to convey by any means possible that this is his choice. He will always love Ishgard and her people, and should it come to it, he would put himself on the line to save them all, but he loves her too, even more than he values his own life. And yet having a life with her is what he desires more than anything, and that is what spurs him on to continue fighting.
And although the primal's influence is still overwhelming nearly every other thought that he has and any action he would perform, the part of him that is clinging to his sense of self knows that King Thordan is not truly on the side of Ishgard. Or at least, he cares not for the Ishgard that Aymeric knows and loves. He would see Ishgard destroyed, her people enslaved, and for what gain?
For the first time, even though it is only a sliver of Aymeric's true feelings and is not powerful enough to break through his enthrallment, he realizes that Estinien had the right of it: if King Thordan had his way, a great many people would lose their lives, and the peace that they had found following the conclusion of the war would be shattered.
That realization lends a brief strength to Aymeric's hands, and the tenuous grip he has on Alkaid's tightens momentarily before loosening once more. ]
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She bites down on her lip slightly before she leans forward to close the remaining space between them. Then, she rests her forehead against his once more. Lamenting how unfair it all is would be so very pointless. Not when he has his own harsh battle he is waging within. She would curl her hands around his in return if she did not hold the spoon and bowl. Instead, she presses her forehead against his further with her eyes closed. ]
I miss you. [ A funny thing to say, she realizes. Especially when they sit together and the problems of the world finally put to the side. Her head tilts so she might press the side of her nose to his. ] It is our first time together in a city beyond Ishgard and war... and we can hardly enjoy it together.
[ Another moment passes before she tilts her head down. They should finish breakfast before anything else. Thus, she returns to her motions of feeding the two of them until the shared bowl is empty. She places it to the side with the spoon. Before standing, she presses a kiss to his cheek that is close to his lips. She dares not kiss him proper in case it undoes the small progress he has made.
Alkaid stands then and removes the blanket from the pair of them. Her hands go to help him stand. Then, she moves to his side and nestles perfectly against his body. One hand goes around his waist while the other rests his hand on her shoulder. ]
I'm far from Estinien, but lean what you need on me, and I will find a way to support your weight. [ A hand gestures to the room in which they must move to. ] That one is the bathroom. I won't see you in a comfortable bed covered in dirt from a cell.
[ It is a slow process to the bathroom. Once inside, she helps him transfer his weight to the sink. Her attention turns then to setting the bath together. She makes certain the water is not too hot. As the tub fills with water, she takes the steps to return to his side and motions to his clothing. He will need to dress down to be inside the water.
She helps however he might need, being careful to look away at certain parts of his nude body. Not because she does not desire him. Now is not the time, nor the place, and he had made certain his stance that most intimate acts should be saved until after they wed. She will abide by his request even now.
Finally, she leads him to the tub and helps him with his weight as best as he can to settle inside the bath. She moves to kneel beside the tub. ]
Is the water too hot or too cold? Do you need me to get you anything before I start?
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When she helps him stand, it goes easier this time, although some strain is present in his limbs as he does his best to stay on his feet, not collapsing or bending at the knees as he straightens up with her help.
Although he has once again fallen into an obedient state of compliance as she directs him to the bathroom, he moves more purposefully than he has since this whole ordeal began. And lest she worry, none of the mindless actions he made when he was firmly locked in the grip of rage are present as he takes one slow, unsteady step forward followed by another. He might still be enthralled by the primal, but at the very least, he can move forward with assistance.
Still, when they finally make it into the bathroom, he has to hold onto the sink in order to remain upright as she prepares the bath. When she returns and indicates that he needs to undress, once again, he simply does as requested, needing her aid again at certain points in the process. But eventually, he sheds his clothes and lets her guide him to the waiting tub.
Now that he is unclothed, the bruise patterns that are in varying stages of healing stand out against his pale skin. They wrap around his back and across his chest, marking the places where Estinien initially jumped on him to knock him out, and then pressed Nidhogg against him, as well as the force with which he landed when the dragoon knocked him back against the cell wall. Smaller bruises wind around his hands and forearms where he slammed them against the cell bars, but the worst of the damage remains on his back and chest.
Once he is properly inside the bath, although he does not answer with words, the way his body relaxes underneath the warm water ought to be telling enough. Another sigh escapes him as the areas of tension and soreness from his various injuries unclench themselves as the water settles in over him. The lingering soreness from the bruises seems to fade as well, but until the injuries heal, it is sure to return.
Still, the warm water helps ease some of the lingering pain. He certainly is the most relaxed he has been in some time, but perhaps that is only to be expected, as he is no longer being held inside a cell but instead housed in a far more comfortable and less distressing room.
Now the only danger present (the primal's rage notwithstanding) is that he might drift off to sleep while still in the bath. Even so, Alkaid would most likely have to be completely absent from the room or have her attentions drawn elsewhere for that to be a real danger. Still, Aymeric's thoughts are far from dwelling upon that or anything more than the sound of the water lightly splashing against the sides of the tub and the dim awareness he still has of Alkaid's presence by his side. ]
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Her mind is far from romantic thoughts, but she finds herself wishing she might look at Aymeric in such a way. Instead, all she can see is the bruises along his front, backside, and arms. She feels the familiar rising sense of anxiousness inside her at the display. Oh, her poor knight. No wonder he has been in so much pain...
Alkaid waits for an answer as she sits beside the tub. Then, she realizes it will never come in a way she expects. His eyes close and he seems to relax entirely. She is left to sit on her own, hands on the rim, watching as he drifts off into some form of rest. Her two-toned eyes drop to the surface of the water. A moment of stillness passes--save for the water that waves gently. Her forehead presses to the edge for just a moment. Then, her hands clutch it with a surge of emotion washing over her.
Of course. In this moment, she is far from Lantaa, and barely Alkaid. She may not even be the Warrior of Light to him. Simply someone that he perhaps has a feeling he cares for deeply. Someone that can care for him and heal him. He would not be able to remember much of anything of her. Her questions must surely seem redundant or perhaps even pointless. Even worse, the answers may be obvious, and therefore not worth answering in any form.
She uses the leverage from how her hands to push herself up after the few momwnts that pass. Then, she moves to the back of the tub where his head rests. With wash cloth and soap in hand, she gently begins to wash his arms and shoulders, even his face. What point would there be in having him dirty in a new bed? Once done, she quietly takes water into a basin and gently pours it over his hair to wash next. Not once does she speak through out the process; not even as she stands behind him lathering his hair.
If he needs to sleep then must let him as much as she is able.
Water pours over his head again as she works the soap from his hair. Once done, she gently places her hands at the back of his neck. She attempts to guide the tension out of his body simply by touch. The injuries that litter his body and arms will be addressed once he is asleep.
It is far from how I had hoped our first bath together might be. She thinks to herself, but does not allow the emotion to show.
Yet, it could very well be the only one they have.
After he is washed and pampered for, Alkaid simply sits beside the tub and quietly waits for him to stir once more. Most likely once the water has gone cold. Then, she drains the tub and offers her hands to help him ease from the tub. A towel is taken from the counter and pulled around his waist-- not that she had looked anywhere other than his chest. Another towel is taken and she quietly dries his arms and torso off gently. The towel is then draped around her shoulder and she once again slides against him. ]
Let us get you to bed.
[ The walk to the bedroom is far shorter than the one from the living room. She eases him to sit on the edge of the bed, quickly shut the curtains and returns to stand in front of him.
The towel is moved from her shoulder and placed atop his head. Then, she gently works to dry his hair. It reminds her of a moment that feels as if it were a different age. Except, he had been the one drying her hair on the eve of battle. Alkaid bites again down on her lip as her hands shake moving through his hair.
There will most likely not be a time in which he might care for her in such a way again. ]
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If only he could reach out to her and speak to her while she works, because there is much that he wishes he could say, even though his state of comfortable dozing prevents it. And surely the primal would interrupt once more if he even made the attempt.
Instead, he remains still, lying in the water with his eyes closed and a far more relaxed expression than he has worn since this all started coming to his face. It isn't until she places her hands upon the back of his neck and then pauses as if waiting for him to stir that his eyes finally slide open.
For just a moment, they remain staring up at the ceiling, but gradually, they focus and they shift to look at her. Again, he does not have the chance to try and form words, because she is already moving to help him leave the tub, and his hands latch onto hers as he does his best to stand and step out of the bath.
He remains still as she wraps the towel around his waist and continues to dry him off. Once that is completed, she helps him yet again move to the bedroom, and with her assistance, he sits on the edge of the bed waiting for her to return from closing the curtains.
As she works on drying his hair, his eyes remain open, still fixed upon her, and although his mind and body both are telling him he must sleep now, he has one thing he must do first. ]
Alkaid...
[ His voice is hoarse from the lack of consistent use, but that is not what bothers him. He shakes his head lightly given the placement of her hands in his hair, and then he tries again. ]
Lantaa.
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Her thoughts continue to drift off in that fashion until he speaks her name. Then, all attention instantly focuses back on him. She looks down at his still glowing blue eyes with her own eyebrows raised. ]
Hm?
[ The hands atop his head have already stopped due to her spiraling thoughts, and the small tremor in them remains. Her head cants to the side just enough when he shakes his own head. Then, as just before in the cell, she freezes as he says her birth name. Her eyes widen once more and she does her utmost not to let her lower lip tremble again.
She's meant to be a Warrior of Light--a Champion and Hero of Eorzea. That does not mean she falls apart when the world seems to be at its worst. She does not crumble when those around her look to strength and to keep the world going. Even if it is her world that seems to be shrouded in an undertone of darkness ever since she returned from Norvrandt. He has seen enough of how much of a mess she remains inside of it. That is not what he needs at the moment. She needs to be a beacon of hope that it will all be right in the end; even if it is not the same as it once was.
Alkaid pulls her hands back from his hair with the towel in tow. She hides her fingers inside the folds of the towel. They begin to twist one another in her nervous habit. ]
...Yes?
[ Godsdamnit, her voice is far too soft and filled with worry to seem strong or anything else for that matter. She berates herself inwardly once more. Her shoulders square and she pulls her hiding hands closer to her in an attempt to seem taller and in more control than she certainly feels she is as she waits for his response. ]
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In these artificially implanted memories, he sees himself being lead down another path by Thordan himself... not the imposing primal but the man who is his only remaining blood relation. This path takes him far from the woman that he loves but leads him to what Thordan claims is the only way to Ishgard's salvation.
Still, what remains of Aymeric's will fights to hold onto those precious memories of his time with Lantaa, and even as the tension shows itself in his posture and in the way the veins in his neck begin to stand out because of the continued internal battle, he still fights to respond to her. ]
I- I'm... [ I'm here. His mind fills in the sentence that he is struggling to give voice to, but that is not enough: he wants to say those words aloud that Lantaa might know he is still trying desperately to reach for her.
She might not expect any grand speeches from him, but he can barely manage to say two words to her, and that is more distressing to him than any wound.
But then, as if a burst of defiance that has been building up over time finally manages to break through, Aymeric's shoulders stiffen and he straightens up for one brief moment. ]
Lantaa, I'm here. [ In those words rings all the defiance and resolve that has been so thoroughly snuffed out by his enthrallment, but for these few seconds, he almost sounds like himself again and his eyes gleam with a light quite a bit different from the light of tempering.
Soon enough, exhaustion will pull him down again, and he will once again be ensnared, but for now, the small remnant of Ishgard's Lord Speaker is doing its best to reassert itself. ]
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Still, she waits with ears pressed down against her head, fingers twisting one another, and tail curling up against her body. He is trying so desperately to say what it is he wishes to that she cannot bring herself interrupt--even for his own health. Perhaps he will ask her to leave him to his fate and send her away. Or, perhaps King Thordan has found a way to coax Aymeric into his hold and plans to use one of the most precious things she has given him against her. Aymeric may even mean to share apologies that he can no longer fight as he wishes he would...
Her eyebrows lift in worry as he sits into a posture more like himself. She can see the all too familiar determined look of the Lord Speaker before her. Once he has spoken the words, however, is when her worried gaze finally turns into something else. Shock, relief, concern, and above all else--love. All the emotions collide into her expression at once. The towel is dropped and her hands reach out with only the slightest hesitation that she might cause him pain when it is the last thing she wishes.
Alkaid wraps her arms around him to pull him close. She holds onto him as she would if the circumstances were but normal for them. A long parting met with a reunion that both wish would be far more permanent. Her head tips down as she presses her nose into the top of his damp hair. The tail at her side uncurls to rest beside his own and her hold on him tightens.
A familiar sound leaves her, if his memories might serve him. One of relief and yet longing that came from her with their reunion in Gyr Abania. What can she say to him that will not cause the primal in his mind to clench his hold more? She has apologized so much already, begged him to stay, attempted to share how deeply she loves him. All of it is just words that seem to be on repeat and must surely lose their meanings now. ]
Stay. Please. I--[ Alkaid presses her nose further into his hair as her body begins to shake despite her screaming at it inside her mind not to. Tears press against her shut eyelids. How much longer will her time in Norvrandt haunt her? How many times must it whittle her down into a person he must surely not see as Lantaa? Even now, as he all but shouts that he is still fighting, she feels as if she might break apart. ]--I'm not certain how much of Lantaa will remain if you go so far away.
[ An incredible wave of shame washes over her as she finally admits to it. How much of who she is--the woman deep down under the adventurer and the Warrior of Light--can continue on after all of this? She is certain not much of 'Lantaa' would wish to remain on their star. Of course, she would always be that woman in some form as long as her sister walks along side her. Yet, she also knows, the things that drove her away from her clan and into the life she leads now would surely leave with Aymeric if he chooses to put an end to it. All that she would be is a Warrior of Light and some shade of a woman there long enough to make certain her sister and man she loves could find the happiness she couldn't.
Her fingers curl into his hair in an attempt to sooth herself and him. ]
I-I'm sorry, please, I shouldn't ask that of you... you, my brave knight, who carries the whole of the city he loves so dearly on his shoulders. You don't need my weight on top of that burden... you have enough you are fighting for... please, don't think of me poorly... forget I asked...
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So, it is quite clear in his mind that she does deserve whatever effort he can give, and more besides, no matter how much pain he winds up in because of it. Some things are worth sacrificing for, and whether he realizes it or not, he would make every sacrifice for her if that was needed.
When she pulls him close so that she might hold him, for just a moment, he stills, merely resting in her hold as the exhaustion that has been gradually rising sweeps over him once more. But he is not finished, not just yet. Although the effort causes his arms to shake and even though he cannot lift them very high, he manages to move his arms just enough so that they are resting on both sides of her hips.
Even the sound that she makes causes something to stir in the depths of his mind, and even though his thoughts are fettered by the enthrallment, a part of him recognizes it nonetheless, and he leans in somewhat awkwardly to press a light kiss to the only place he can reach given how they are positioned: the side of her neck.
It has taken some time for him to realize it, and he knows full well that his certainty may fade the moment the primal takes hold of him again, but he is resolved to keep fighting because of her and because he wishes to stay with her for the rest of their lives.
But how can he say it when he can barely speak? He shifts in her arms, nestling himself even closer to her as he tries to summon the willpower to speak just one more time.
As he rests in her arms, she might notice if she is looking closely enough that beneath the bruises decorating his skin, there is a roadmap of scars traveling across his torso and down his bared arms, marks leftover from his time as a Temple Knight waging war against the Dravanians.
Each one tells a different tale, but they are all part of the same story, and some are little more than thin white lines where claws or spines struck. Still others are larger and deeper, even though they are all fully healed by now.
Amidst the smaller scars, there is a larger one placed squarely in the center of his back, and it has not faded as much as the others. Instead, three slashes remain visible as if a dragon's claw lashed out and left deep scores on his back. The wounds have long since healed, of course, but the marks remain.
Finally, Aymeric moves once more, eyes briefly sliding shut as if responding to the feel of her fingers in his hair. But as before, they are quick to open again, and although he expended most of his strength in his desperate effort to speak to her, he still manages to tighten his hands around her hips with more strength in his grip than before.
As long as you wish for me to be... The words form in his mind, but then his voice takes over the rest. ]
I will be right here. [ Even if he has to fight off Thordan using every last bit of his strength, he has resolved to do as she has asked and stay with her.
I will not be leaving you. His eyes lock onto hers, not blinking or looking away, as if in hopes that she will somehow realize the resolve and certainty that has taken hold of him. ]
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She nudges the side of his head at his kiss. It sends a familiar shiver up her spine. One that demands she return the notion by kissing him. The demand is countered by the fear that if she would, then he might be swept away by the primal that weeds itself further into his mind. Instead, she tilts her head to kiss where his ear meets the side of his head. Intimate enough, but only enough.
Her eyes open to properly take in the damage done to his body -- both old and new. She has felt the scars on his back before, but seeing them from her angle above causes her heart to sink. The best she can do for him is heal the new ones and hope to give comfort to those that still cause him pain. Although, she can hardly manage to do the first one, let alone the second.
With his grip tightening on her hips, she finally pulls back enough to look down at him. Her hands move to cradle his head as her braid with attached bow slips once more over her shoulder. Tears gather in her eyes at his declaration as she feels a surge of hope encompass her. Plenty of doubts attempt to gnaw at the sensation, but she ignores them and instead presses her forehead to his. She gently nudges his nose with hers, as if to ask what she might be able to do that will not cause him further pain. ]
And I will be here as well. No member of the Alliance or the Scions can take me away from you.
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But even her small gestures of contact are enough to cause comfort to sweep over him. The little nudges she gives him and the kiss she places against his head is more than enough to ease him and bring relaxation once more.
Even the bruises do not seem to trouble him as much as they once had, perhaps because the bath has helped ease that tension as well. As always, when she moves to cradle his head, his eyes close almost as if this is an action the two of them have done many times before. The feel of her hands on him is gentle and comforting, and once again, the desire to drift off to sleep rises.
What he wishes that they could do is to fall asleep together, but what reason he still has a hold of tells him that doing so will only bring about the primal's rage. But even as their foreheads rest together, he reaches again with his hand, and this time, his fingers lightly close themselves around her braid, holding the strands of hair as carefully as he can manage.
As for what she might be able to do that will not cause him further hurt, he has no answer for that. To sleep alongside one another, of course, but what else? She cannot end his enthrallment, and that is the obstacle that still stands between them.
Perhaps the only thing he truly wishes for is that she remains with him, and that no one attempt to separate them from each other again. But perhaps wishing for that is selfish, and the devotion to duty that is so ingrained in him chastises him for even thinking that she might put aside her own duties to remain with him.
His shoulders sag, not because he is in pain, but because now the push and pull is between himself and his desires, and it is no easier to fight with himself than it was to wrestle with the primal. Finally, he just relinquishes the idea of trying to answer her and his head dips to one side, resting against her hand as he lets his need for sleep wash over him. ]
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Aymeric. [ A gentle call of his name to garner his attention. ] You need to be dressed for bed first. Then, you can sleep all you need.
[ She quickly grabs the clothes that have been provided to the room as a standard: a sleeping shirt and underwear. It does not take her long to help him into it, and only another moment is spared to pull the covers back for him to slip underneath them.
Alkaid then moves to sit on his other side, her legs tucked to her side. ]
Move to your side, my love. [ To which, if he needs her aid, she most certainly gives. A gentle kiss is given to the base of his ear once more. ] Sleep well. I will be here when you awaken.
[ Alkaid waits and gently rubbing his arm once more until he drifts off to sleep. Then, she lowers her head and her shoulders sink. She allows only a few tears to shed before brushing her cheeks against her shoulders to dry them. Her eyes close as she focuses on channeling what aether she has managed to store into his bruises and wounds at his back and chest. As always, she pulls the ambient aether around her, but only so much can be done before her own body demands she rests once more. He can at least rest easy now that the majority of his injuries to the back and some to the chest are healed. She then gently guides him to lay on his back and brushes his bangs way from his face.
She slips her shoes off and simply sits at the edge of the bed for a long passing moment. A glance is sent over her shoulder to him before she curls her legs underneath her and lays down beside him on top of the covers. Another moment passes before she gently nestles her back against his frame, curling up as she might if things were as they ought to be.
It takes even longer for her to fall into an unease sleep, still haunted by dreams of creatures with alabaster skin, only to be morphed into those wielding an unholy light led by Knights. She shifts in her sleep, but does not awaken until she hears a knock at a door.
Her eyes open and her head raises to look first at the window to see where the sun might be through the curtains. How long had she managed to sleep this time? ]
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Still, before too long, she has him ready to sleep, and with her continued help, he slides beneath the covers. He does his best to move as he has been bid, rolling onto his side while still needing a little assistance from her as his strength has not returned in full. A sigh escapes him again when she kisses the base of his ear, and his exhaustion is so great that it takes very little time for sleep to claim him.
He remains asleep even as she works on healing his injuries as best as she is able, and as she goes about her work, his breathing deepens and the lingering tension in his body fades, allowing him to finally relax.
But as time passes, even as they remain asleep, her back still nestled against him, he begins to dream as well. The images form and shift so fast that his mind can barely process them, but he dreams of his father urging him to follow him to Azys Lla, only to disappear the moment he finally reaches him. Interspersed with dreams of Thordan are dreams featuring Alkaid, and those are not any less distressing. In these dreams, he reaches out for her, calling for her, but she disappears just as Thordan did. And sometimes, he fails to reach her at all, arriving too late and finding her gone without a trace.
It is because of these dreams that chase themselves around his mind that the knock on the door does not register with Aymeric. It seems as though nothing is able to break through the sleep he desperately needs or the dreams that are playing themselves out.
He shifts slightly in his sleep when Alkaid moves, but beyond that, he remains still. He may be resting, and the sleep he has managed to get may very well help restore his strength, but even so, his mind has not relented enough to give him pleasant dreams.
His eyes remain closed as his sleep continues, but tears that he might have been able to hold back had he not been subjected to this long battle leak from beneath his closed eyelids. Whatever it is he is presently dreaming about is clearly causing no small amount of upset and a muted distressed sound escapes from him.
He rolls over while still remaining asleep, hands reaching out as if searching blindly for Alkaid and the comfort that she offers even though she is not far from him at all. ]
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The sign of his breathing finally deepening is a relief to her, and one she shows by letting out a large exhale. Perhaps now with his injuries on his back taken care of he can begin to rest. She still has injuries on his chest to aid, and the damage done by his own on his arms against the cell doors, but it is certainly better than it had been the day before.
Her vision focuses on the early afternoon rays attempting to find their way through the heavy curtains. A hand raises to rub at her eyes. The realization that it had only been a handful of hours settles in. She had felt that her dreams went on for eternity and thus she had been asleep longer. Alkaid's gaze moves to the bedroom door and lingers for a long moment. Her ears twitch at the sound of yet another knock.
She supposes she must rise and face whoever knocks at the door to the ambassador quarters.
With a small sigh, Alkaid moves to push herself up. She finds her body heavy and demanding more rest to replenish the aether she has expended. Yet, she has every intention to ignore it and keep pushing forward. There is little else she might do in the position that she now finds herself in. It hardly matters how broken she still feels inside or how drained her body is. A Warrior of Light must keep pushing forward for all of their lives, hopes, and dreams.
That, however, is when her ears twitch at another sound they pick up.
Alkaid looks back over her shoulder at the sleeping Aymeric. Although she would hardly call it sleeping now. His arms stretched out towards her person and tears distinctly falling down his face. The sight causes her to pause, as she cannot recall ever seeing a time when he has cried. While she certainly has done plenty of it since her return from Norvrandt? He has ever kept it inside, even if at times he cannot keep his emotions inwardly. She turns so she might reach out and take his hand, but pauses once she hears the door to the quarters open.
A sense of panic fills her and one ear turns towards the door. While she knows none of the Storms could get past Estinien on guard? A sense of dread fills her that the Grand Company has arrived. Had they learned that Aymeric is truly tempered, and refuse to house him, as they do Ga Bu? Her head all but whips back to the door as she desperately strains to listen for unfamiliar footsteps. Alkaid pulls herself closer to Aymeric, not simply just so he can find her, but so she can protect him if need be. Her shaking hand rests on top of his as she leans even closer to the sleeping man at her side...
Then, she hears Estinien's calm voice. Another one follows, one higher and oh so familiar. Her eyes widen as her ears stand on end. She cannot make out the words they are saying through the heavy door, but it is clear that the person he speaks to is none other than Tataru.
Tataru? Why is she here? Had the Scions asked her and Krile to oversee herself and Aymeric? Was there a sense of distrust between them all because she had refused to act as a Scion and instead as a wife? Her ears fold against her head and her hand squeezes Aymeric's firmly.
After a few more moments the voices sound farther away and the sound of the door closing echoes. Alkaid remains where she is, shaking from the adrenaline that has shocked her exhausted state, practically clutching onto the blanket below her and the hand in hers. Her breathing returns to normal only for her head to slip back and her lip to tremble as tears find their way down her cheeks once more.
Gods, the stress of it all... ]
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Or perhaps what happens next is a phenomenon unrelated to the movement of his aether, but the fact remains that even the smallest of movements that Alkaid makes stirs up a response in Aymeric as well, even though he remains asleep. He continues reaching for her, shifting his position on the bed as if trying to get closer to her once more. The swirling images from his dreams continue, each one ending the same way: with Alkaid disappearing from view.
This could all be his mind's way of pushing back against the primal's refusal to even consider letting the Warrior of Light in, or it could be the primal further trying to pull Aymeric away from those subconscious desires.
His breathing remains deep and even, but his sleeping form tenses and contracts as if responding to Alkaid's own stress and apprehension because of whatever is transpiring outside the room.
Then, an image bursts unbidden into Aymeric's churning dreams, and this one is so distressing that a fresh wave of tears flows from his eyes. He may be fighting back against the primal, but this is not a one-sided fight. Instead of trying and failing to find Alkaid before she vanishes, this time, he finds her, but it is still far too late to save her. Something or someone has taken her life, and although Aymeric tries desperately to reach out to her, she is beyond recalling or restoring.
Aymeric's distress only rises because of the horrors he is being forced to see, but that is not the only thing that compels him to reach for Alkaid, to pull himself even closer to her. It is not the smoothest of efforts, but the arms that reached desperately for her now lower to circle around her waist as best as they can. Her continued stress is stirring up a reaction in Aymeric as well, and he only wishes to comfort her and perhaps find a small amount of comfort for himself too. ]
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... ssh, hush now, Aymeric. I'm right here. [ She leans back against the headboard to situate herself better. Then, she guides his head to rest against her lap. ] I said no one will take me away, and I plan to keep that promise.
[ She is certain that eventually the Scions will return to inform her of the latest advances with the cure to tempering. No doubt lingers in her mind that some of them perhaps are still very cross with her. Her decision has not changed and nor will it. Aymeric is still in need of her as at least a healer.
The hand from his arm lifts to gently brush away the tears slipping down his face. Then, she sighs, tilting her head back to look up at the ceiling as some of the afternoon sun rays spread across the room once they find their way through the heavy curtains. Her fingers continue to brush through his hair and eventually settle at the hair at the nape of his neck. She absentmindedly toys with the strands as her thoughts change to what might happen when they do cure him.
Will he still wish to be married to her? How might they go about restoring Ishgard? They still need to find where King Thordan and his Knights Twelve are. That is, presuming that King Thordan has his knights. Should she ask Aymeric of it? That, she supposes, will be left to the state that he is in when he awakens. He might be as he has been... or return to the strong minded man who sees only Thordan's will.
Her thoughts continue to swirl and twist around one another even once her eyes close and her head dips to her shoulder. The hand in his hair only stills once sleep fully claims her yet again and she falls into a slumber. The quality of her sleep does not change and nor do the images that haunt her mind. Instead, she shifts uncomfortably in her sleep, even to the point where she eventually lays on her side with his head still against her lap. The sight is almost akin to a cat curling at the head of the sleeping owner of the bed.
Even as she slumbers and the all too familiar monsters haunt her dreams? A whine comes from her as she shakes. Perhaps the might not notice or even be aware of it. Yet, it is a semi-often occurrence in her sleep patterns since her return from Norvrandt. ]
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But his emotional barriers have been so badly damaged by this long struggle that he has very little control over himself and his feelings that threaten to spill out just like the tears that course down the sides of his face. Even as she guides him to rest his head in her lap, he cries out in his sleep, an action he never would have done had he still remained the stoic person he would have been had he not been struggling against the primal that still has a hold on him.
Although his sleep has become considerably less restful, it is still a form of rest, and even in his despair, he burrows his head further into her lap, clearly seeking out her presence and the comfort she gives him, in spite of her own distressed state.
A second quieter cry escapes him, but now his tension fades yet again as the harrowing dreams fade from his mind and exhaustion pulls him back under as well. He remains dimly aware of her presence with him, but he has not realized that she also has drifted off to sleep.
It is some time after they both have been claimed by slumber that Aymeric stirs. Tear tracks still can be seen on his face, but he does not remember ever shedding those tears. A sound that is closer to a distressed whine reaches his ears, and gradually, his eyes slide open. He moves again, stopping when he realizes that his head is still pillowed in her lap, and because of that and the position she fell into when sleep took her provides him with quite an interesting view.
But no thoughts along those lines enter his mind, and instead of moving or attempting to speak, he stills once more, but he remains awake, eyes all but focused on her and what he can see of her face. ]
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If the circumstances had been anything along the lines of normalcy? She may have smiled suggestively and shifted for his view. However, she is still buried under her own set of distressing dreams. Another small sound makes its way free and she curls her hands to her chest. Her head turns into the pillows beneath her. The shake in her hands only increases and she attempts to curl into herself. That proves difficult as his head is still in her lap.
The dreams continue as they have as horror after horror was encountered in the far away land. Creatures deformed and twisted, a people on the brink of destruction, and the fear in the back of her mind that nothing would be left of Eorzea when she and K'thsiru returned. They twist into memories of long stretched battlefields with the Empire. A weapon so powerful it could kill any without a trace...
The face of the person she loves the most on the star amongst those that litter the battlefield. Realizing that, as she stands there, she was too late to save him. After everything she and K'thisru had been through, after promising she would come home to him. After all those lives they had saved? She failed to save him, to come back to uphold her promise of being his wife. She falls to her knees beside him and shaking hands reaching to hold his face in her hands.
Then, a heartbroken cry breaks through in her dream and in the waking world. She cradles him in her dreams, apologizing again and again for not making it in time. Tears stream down her face as she presses her forehead to his. What sort of manner of Warrior of Light is she? She might save the world a thousand times over with her sister at her side, but she is incapable of saving the one she would spend her life with? Now, he lays in her arms, his soul long departed to the aetheric sea. Crying seems hardly enough to try and express the depths of how broken her heart is, but it is the only thing she can think to do. Other than hold him in her arms and continue her repeating apologies.
He cannot be dead. Not truly. Not after everything they've been through. Life cannot be that unfair or cruel.
In the waking world, she tries desperately to wake. She does not wish to be in a world where he nor her sister are not. Tears form in her eyes but they do not fall as the desperate attempts to leave her world of nightmares push through anything else. Her hands ball into fists and her face presses more into the pillows. ]
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He does not cry out again, but the distress and torment of his nightmare is plain to see in every tensed muscle and the stiffness that takes hold of his frame. The cry that bursts from her brings about an immediate reaction from him, and he jerks abruptly as if something has burned him.
Driven by the need to comfort her, he shifts, pressing a hand down upon the bed so that he might push himself from where he lies with his head in her lap into a seated position, and to his surprise, his body complies. It seems as though the combination of food and sleep, however brief and disturbed, has brought some of his strength back.
One hand moves to cover one of hers that has balled itself into a fist while the other goes to rest on her head, hoping that the touch will give her some comfort. But he is still not fully healed yet, and although he knows he can remain sitting up, he decides that he only wants to lie down beside her. The hand resting on her head does not move even as he shifts positions, moving to stretch himself out next to her, and once he has, then his arm moves to wrap itself lightly around her waist.
Finally coming to a stop, he does just one more thing, pressing his front against her back, as he waits for a sign that her nightmare is lessening or that she is beginning to return to wakefulness. ]
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It takes several more moments for her mind to finally claw out of its slumbering state. Her eyes finally open to simply look at the wall that she faces at first. An ear turns towards Aymeric once she realizes his breathing indicates he is once again awake. There is only a strain to his breaths now as opposed to the laboring he suffered through the day before. Alkaid closes her eyes and turns her hand to slip her fingers between his. ]
...did I wake you? I'm sorry. [ Her voice is quiet, as if tired of fighting several battles all in a row. Fatigue has certainly set in as her mind cannot simply rest after all she has seen and done in Norvrandt. Even before then, the battles with the Empire.
She turns so she might face him. Except, her eyes never quite raise to meet his. They instead look down at their mismatched clothing. Ears lower to press against her head completely and her tail curls up around her. She knows she should not be this close to him. It could further cause an outrage of the primal influence in his mind and damage him further. Yet, all she wishes to do is lean into his hold as she might normally.
All the battles... the loss... the victories... she is so tired.
Her eyes close once more as her shoulders drop. Then, her forehead rests against his chest, despite her better judgement. ]
Did you sleep well? Were your dreams better?
[ Although she does know the answer to some degree. ]
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The smile he gives her is both like his usual smile but not quite at the same time. The primal in his mind is still present, of course, but for the moment, it is deciding to remain somewhat dormant, waiting and watching.
In a way, he feels somewhat as he had when he first awoke in the cell, only this time, there is no compelling need to escape. For one, there are no bars holding him in, only a room. The Warrior of Light still registers as a threat with King Thordan, but Aymeric still pushes back against those thoughts, still retaining the belief that she can be swayed into aligning with them and being of use, if only he is given the opportunity to be at his most persuasive. Being rendered weak and unresponsive only feels like a step backwards to him, and so whenever Thordan tries to reprimand him for still viewing Alkaid as an ally, he does his best to argue against that.
He shakes his head, part of him marveling in the fact that his head does not pound nor does his vision blur from completing that action. ]
Nay, I was already beginning to stir when I saw that your sleep had become disturbed. [ His tone softens when she turns so that she is facing him. ]
I slept as well as anyone could expect, but I think that I have been the focus of your worries for far too long. It is high time that someone worry about you. Your sleep did not seem restful nor easy.
[ He is certain she'll notice how he deflected the question concerning his dreams, but he means well by it. Whatever it is she saw in her dreams seemed every bit as distressing, if not even more than his were. ]
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Her gaze remains downwards with no inclination to meet his eyes. The hand that bares her engagement ring curls against her and she gently twists it by the back with her thumb. It is so very like him to deflect his own troubles in need of anothers. She, of course, is guilty of the very same thing. Except, she is aware he is the one in the right. She certainly does not receive the care she gives, but of her own insistence. She and her sister are the Warriors of Light of the Source. They should not need others to raise them up when they are the ones to carry the hopes of others.
If she is broken or fatigued makes little difference. They must push on for the sake of everyone else.
Her usually neat braid has become a mess--perhaps reflecting how she precieves herself on the inside. Her gaze shifts to the side and a gentle shake of her head is given. ]
I'm fine.
[ The tone of her voice implies she does not wish to convince him or herself. No, it is more a tone of resignation. A form of acceptance that how she is now is very well how she might always be.
She curls her shoulders slightly as the hand he holds laxes in his grip. ]
...once I've rested more, I'll finish tending to the rest of your injuries. But, before then, we should have dinner.
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/rolls this up