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Packing for the long trek to Sohm Al came with both relief and a strange, unfamiliar sadness for Moro'a. He was glad to be on the road again — he couldn’t ever feel at ease in the same place for too long — and yet, as he arranged several bundles of clothing into his pack, his thoughts oft returned to Ishgard — the smell of roasted ham and warmwine in the markets, and the luxuries afforded to him at House Fortemps that he was almost beginning to grow accustomed to.
When he wasn’t thinking about that, thoughts of the vast unknown stretched before him instead. Attempting to read into his future with his cards had revealed little of use to him thus far, only obvious indications of trials and difficult decisions ahead. But what he did know was that borne along this long road was the weight of a war that had torn Ishgardians and Dravanians alike for a thousand years.
Who was he, an outsider who had never set foot in either of their lands until less than a year ago, to weigh in on their fates?
“I know that look well by now.” Moro'a turned to see Haurchefant standing at the open doorway, his voice warm as he leaned with one arm against the doorframe. “I pray I’m not intruding?” he asked, polite yet hopeful.
And how sweet. Moro'a broke into a smile as he looked back at the knight. “You aren’t,” he assured him, “I’m just packing.” Haurchefant made no attempt to conceal the way he examined the items surrounding Moro'a, as though he were trying to determine where the Keeper was travelling to, and what for. There was another emotion, though, one concealed beneath his surface curiosity.
A twinge of guilt tugged at Moro'a’s chest. One more secret that he would keep from his lover. It pained him that he couldn’t explain Alphinaud’s plan to Haurchefant. But with the risks so great that they could not even tell Aymeric, he could only hold fast to his word.
He set down the wrapped square of soap he was holding on the table and stepped over to wrap his arms around Haurchefant’s waist. Haurchefant seemed a little surprised by his approach at first, but swiftly recovered, taking the Keeper into his own arms. As Moro'a rested his head against his lover’s chest, he could feel the beating of his heart, each pulse sending a wave of comfort over to his.
“What is amiss, my love?” the knight asked, when the moment had begun to ease into the next. “If you could tell me without revealing aught of your mission…” The sincerity in Haurchefant’s words almost hurt, and love surged through Moro'a’s heart. He looked up, straight into Haurchefant’s eyes. The most he could do…
“So much rests on what we must accomplish,” Moro'a answered, choosing his words carefully. “I intend to do everything I can to keep Ishgard as safe as can be from the coming horde.” And to keep you and your family safe, as well. “However…I cannot help but feel that I might be unsuited for the part I am to play in it. Mayhaps even unworthy.” These sentiments were true, at least.
“And…and that I will miss you, while I am gone.” Only a part of the truth as well, but this one had slipped out from him, far stronger and more vulnerable than he wished for it to be.
“My dear heart.” Haurchefant was already prepared with a rebuttal. “Come what may, I have not a single onze of doubt that you will rise to the challenge, as you always have.” Leaning down, Haurchefant closed the distance between them to kiss Moro'a; the Keeper accepted him gladly, closing his eyes as he savoured the rushing tide of warm touch and emotion. When they separated, Haurchefant kissed him again, somehow with even more passion the first one - pulled along, Moro'a reached out to cup his lover’s cheeks in his hands.
When they parted, Haurchefant’s expression was that of a grin. “And should you ever find your strength flagging on the road, recall these kisses from me! Know that your knight will be by your side always, with the faith that you will succeed.”
This man… Moro'a gently pulled Haurchefant towards him, pressing their foreheads together. Oh, how he loved him. He couldn’t not love him.