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"But tis not fair," Emmanellain, of not yet 12 summers, complained as his mother fastened his buttons for him. "Haurchefant does not have to sit with us!"
Haurchefant felt his stomach twist, his mouth set in a grimace. Next to him, Ursa turned into a small mouse and clambered up his leg before ducking herself into a pocket. She was trembling. He dared not move to comfort her, not wanting to draw attention to the way his own hands shook.
"You do not want him to sit with us," Artoirel said plainly. His daemon, Verdandi, had taken to mimicking birds and she was now a snowy owl, her feathers dappled with black spots. She turned her head entirely around to give Haurchefant an unblinking stare.
It was almost more humiliating than the fact that Artoirel refused to look Haurchefant in the eyes.
"Remember, my son, that this is a portrait for our family ," his mother added. She did not deign to look in Haurchefant's direction. Her daemon, an elegant swan, let out a warbling cry of agreement. "And that boy is not your family."
"But I don't want to sit for hours. Tis dull! And I have to wear these stuffy clothes. But Haurchefant gets to play in the stables—" Emmanellain was cut off by his mother grabbing his chin.
"You are a son of a noble family. You come from a long line that has been unbroken since the days of Thordan's knights. It is of grave import that we both honor our ancestors and leave proof to our descendants as to their parentage." She did not look at Haurchefant, but her voice rose. "This portrait is to memorialize those who protect Ishgard and the Holy See. It shall hang in our home for future generations of Fortemps to look at."
"You should be grateful," Artoirel agreed. His daemon let out a soft hoot in turn. “They only make paintings for people who matter , not commoners.” And though he said more, Haurchefant did not hear him for he had already left through the servants' door.
—
Fafnir stopped in front of the portrait. It was the first thing to be seen when entering the hall, large and almost gaudy with its golden frame and imposing red curtains drawn on either side. Sebek almost slammed into Fafnir, the komodo dragon skidding to a halt. If their claws tore into the carpet, Haurchefant did not comment.
Ursa whined, peering over Haurchefant's shoulder. She nosed at the back of his head. He reached up and patted her snout. The polar bear took up most of the hallway even in an estate as grand as the Fortemps’ and thus had to walk in the back of the entourage.
"Ah yes, the most prized portrait of Count Edmont Fortemps and his family — done some years ago, back when the sun still shone bright on Ishgard and her spires." Haurchefant managed a smile even if his chest felt tight. He gestured down the hall. "If we continue this way, you shall find your rooms."
"Thank you, Lord Haurchefant," Alphinaud said, his daemon perched on his shoulder. She was a tiny sparrow today, not yet settled and still able to shift forms. If Alphinaud had questions, he kept them quiet. He waited for Fafnir to move. They did no such thing, staring at the painting.
They were no small person — over seven fulms tall and broad as a kite shield — but even they were dwarfed by the canvas and ornate frame.
“I thought you were older than Emmanellain?” Fafnir asked after a moment. They turned to Haurchefant, who suddenly found it hard to keep smiling.
“Ah, verily. But as I said, t’was for the Fortemps family.” Haurchefant cleared his throat. “We should not block the hall, though. If we may continue?”
Sebek, bless them, smacked Fafnir in the side with their head. “Come on, let’s ask questions when we aren’t being a nuisance.” It was enough to get Fafnir to move, the Au Ra’s footsteps heavy even with the carpet underfoot.
—
Much to Haurchefant’s delight, Fafnir’s room was quite familiar. He knew that the wood floor had been redone and the wallpaper fixed from the time that he gouged a hole in it with a knife, but light still fell over the bed as the sun rose and there was a slight draft since the window didn’t sit close enough to the sill. The doorway was barely big enough for Fafnir and Ursa had to be content with standing outside. If Fafnir had complaints, they said nothing.
“Are you going to stay here, or are you returning to Camp Dragonhead?” Sebek asked Haurchefant.
“I will stay as long as you require a friend in the city, but I shall make my bed in the barracks. This manor is rather overfull even without my presence.” Not that Haurchefant had even asked the Count if there was room.
Sebek chuffed, a sort of hacking noise from the back of their throat. “Well, we would hope that you consider us more than just friends. But thank you, again, for introducing us to the Count. Even if he does seem like a bit of an arse.”
Ursa snorted, smiling as much as a bear could smile. Haurchefant shook his head.
“Pray, do not say such things. The Count is risking much by openly declaring himself a friend to the Scions.” Haurchefant reached out, placing a hand on Fafnir’s arm. “You have been through much the last few days. I assure you that not everyone is a foe here.”
“Only some people,” Ursa helpfully chimed in.
Fafnir looked between daemon and elezen, bright red eyes settling on Haurchefant. They sighed. Slowly, they shuffled forward until their forehead was pressed against Haurchefant’s. Even though their horns curved forward, Haurchefant was never worried. He knew that Fafnir would not hurt him.
“I do not understand Ishgard. But I trust you.” Fafnir fell silent, but it was enough. Haurchefant felt a lump in his throat and tried to swallow it down. He reached up and cupped Fafnir’s cheek in his hand. Their scales were warm to the touch.
A moment passed. Haurchefant could feel Fafnir’s heart beating. It was steady, a metronome that he would be happy to time his life with.
Sebek broke the silence.
“You are the best of Ishgard. The city is brightened with your aether,” they said. They yawned, tongue scenting the air. “Are we close to the kitchens? I can smell something cooking.”
Haurchefant laughed while Fafnir frowned. The two stepped away from each other, the moment passed.
“T’was an honest question!” Sebek protested.
“The guest quarters are close to the kitchens and other such areas, but your nose is much better than mine — or should I say your tongue? Anyhow, tis almost time for the midday meal. I shan’t say if you shall dine with the Count, but it is safe to presume that you shall be fed.” Haurchefant clapped his hands together. “I shall not be a bother. I—” He couldn't even step back before Fafnir grabbed his wrist.
“Stay,” they said. Sebek’s head bobbed in agreement.
Haurchefant had not eaten a meal in the Fortemps manor since he left for temple knight training. He wrote, more out of obligation than admiration, and he even visited once. But he never lingered. He had taken more meals with Francel in his home, Count Baurendouin de Haillenarte malms more welcoming than any Fortemps.
“I should not invite myself to lunch,” Haurchefant replied. He stepped in and pressed his lips to Fafnir’s cheek. “But I assure you that I shall not be a stranger.”
“Good.” Fafnir gave him a small smile. Haurchefant was lucky that Fafnir did not press the issue, because he wasn’t certain he could turn them down.
—
Fafnir was busy, but Haurchefant stuck to his oath. He came by the manor when there was time. Ursa could not fit in Fafnir's room, so she sat in the hallway and looked in. The servants did not say anything, even if she no doubt made their lives a little more difficult.
"Not that t'would be the first time I have caused a little mischief. I would have Ursa turn into a mouse and acquire things from the kitchens," Haurchefant told Fafnir. The two were laying in bed together, the blankets pulled up enough to ward the cold away. It was almost unnecessary as Fafnir burned like a furnace, but Haurchefant liked the intimacy. “She would come back with pastries or fresh cuts of cheese.”
“Thought Sebek would be a gull,” Fafnir confessed. “Or a bird.”
“Oh?” Haurchefant propped his head up on one hand, the other tracing circles on Fafnir’s chest. Thanks to their horns, Fafnir had to be careful. Many a pillow had been sliced open by too fast a head turn.
“It’s common in Limsa Lominsa. That or aquatic creatures.”
“I imagine you don’t get many fish here,” Sebek piped up. They were laying on the floor, splayed out as sunlight poured through the window. Haurchefant thought they looked rather like a cat, though he didn’t have courage to say that aloud.
He shook his head. “Not many, no. Though before the Calamity, there were many rivers that wound through Coerthas. I am certain some found themselves with a fish daemon. I… cannot say I know of any myself, though.” Haurchefant gave half a shrug.
“But many birds. That is what penguins are, are they not?” Sebek questioned. Haurchefant felt a familiar unease, but he could not deny Sebek their curiosity.
“Aye, though birds are not necessarily common. They are just a hallmark of the Fortemps family.” Haurchefant cleared his throat. “But that is a dull topic. I am certain you would rather listen to—”
“Ursa is a bear, though?” Fafnir blinked. Haurchefant could see threads weaving together in their head. “Oh, this must be an Ishgardian thing. Because your mother was not married to the Count and you are not considered a Fortempts, then Ursa is not a bird.”
Ursa rumbled deep in her throat. “I would not want to be a bird even if I could change,” she declared.
“Have I not told you how she settled?” Haurchefant jumped on the chance to steer the conversation towards more stable ground. Fafnir shook their head. “Well, you will find it most entertaining I hope. I was but a lad and Francel was my only friend — yes, the selfsame Francel you helped clear of hersey…”
Haurchefant told Fafnir the tale. He had been a boy, eager to prove himself and knowing that the Countess would never give him the chance. Francel had been the only sympathetic ear, him and Otava playing knights with him for hours. Otava and Ursa would wrestle, changing forms with every tumble, while Haurchefant talked about all the dragons he would kill when he was a real knight.
Then Francel got kidnapped on a hunting trip and Haurchefant rescued him. During the whole endeavor, Ursa turned into a polar bear and never shifted back.
Naturally, this was not what Fafnir focused on.
“Of course you got shot and think nothing of it,” they replied, snorting slightly. They traced a hand down Haurchefant’s arm. With his armor off, Haurchefant could feel the soft touch. He shivered. A small smile twitched on Fafnir’s face. “The scar makes you distinguished.”
Haurchefant laughed. “Thank you, my dear. I do try.”
The two of them fell silent. It could have been tense, but Haurchefant was nothing but relaxed. He was calm. He could hear bustling in the mansion, but it did not touch him here. The world was cold but it was warm in the bed. Ursa blocked anyone from entering. She looked at Sebek, who had their eyes closed as they soaked in the sun. Fafnir had their eyes open, the bright red blind to everything beyond Haurchefant.
Considering how many partners he had slept with, Haurchefant should have been used to being the subject of attention. It was different when it was Fafnir. Not bad. Just different.
He could spend the rest of his life laying next to them, pretending the world outside did not exist.
Fafnir shifted, reaching up to brush some hair out of Haurchefant’s eyes. Haurchefant’s breath hitched. He leaned into the touch. Fafnir gave it to him freely and easily. Their eyebrows furrowed. Haurchefant braced himself. He knew what it looked like when Fafnir was forming a question. They could be interrupted, but Haurchefant did not want to do that to them. He cares too much for Fafnir to disrupt their thoughts.
Their mouth opened. Their tongue licked their lips. It was a light gray, almost blue. Another trait that had piqued Haurchefant’s initial interest in them.
“May I ask you something?” Fafnir asked. Haurchefant blinked in surprise but nodded. “Do you have any pictures of your mother?”
It was both better and worse than what Haurchefant expected. He took a deep breath. In the hall, Ursa shifted. Haurchefant shook his head.
“No, there are no portraits of my mother. She was a commoner, after all. They do not make portraits of commoners. Only important people, like nobles or great dragoons.” He waves his free hand in the air. “I am certain that they will immortalize Ser Estinien or Knight Commander Aymeric — if they have not already. They are the sort of men that Ishgard wishes to remember.”
Fafnir was quiet for a moment. Their eyes met Haurchefant’s and they did not look away.
"She must have been beautiful,” they said in an uncharacteristically soft voice.
Haurchefant could not remember exactly what his mother looked like. He remembered the color of her hair and the way her mouth shaped when she smiled. He knew that she was tall and considered beautiful by others. But when he tried to conjure an image of her face, nothing came to mind.
“I always thought she was the most beautiful person in the world,” he replied, and he was not quite lying but he was not telling the truth either.
If Fafnir could tell, they did not push it. They just leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.
“She must have been, because you are.” Fafnir gave Haurchefant a grin, but Haurchefant knew that they weren’t just being a flirt. There was too much sincerity in their tone. He still laughed and tapped Fafnir on the nose.
“Flatterer. What of you? Do you look anything like your parents?” Haurchefant knew that he said the wrong thing when Fafnir’s grin faltered. Quickly, Haurchefant added, “I think my mother would have liked you. She always did want me to make more friends.”
Fafnir chuckled. “Only friends? And I was going to say that I would buy a portrait of you.” Their words were so warm that Haurchefant’s face heated up. He coughed into his hand, buying himself time to think of something clever.
“Did you not hear, they only—”
“I heard you. I think you are the kind of man Ishgard should remember.” Fafnir went to kiss him again, this time their lips meeting. Haurchefant did not resist as Fafnir ran a hand down his chest, fingers trailing down his torso. When Fafnir’s tongue pressed against Haurchefant’s lips, Haurchefant greedily opened his mouth and let them in.
The kiss was deceptively quick, but Haurchefant’s head still spun when Fafnir pulled away. This was something he was more familiar with, though the vulnerability that surfaced when it was with Fafnir was unusual.
He still had enough of a mind to smirk and ask, “And how much clothing am I wearing in this portrait of yours?”
Fafnir laughed and went to kiss him again. When they rolled over, straddling Haurchefant and half-pinning him to the bed, no more words were had.
Sebek, at least, had the decency to leave the room and close the door behind them.