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Alisaie had teased her brother incessantly regarding his ineptitude whilst traversing any body of water deeper than a bathtub, almost as soon as they took to Captain Carvallain’s ship at the docks in Limsa Lominsa. Lyse, always quick to join in when there was good-natured, affectionate ribbing to be had, was no different. In truth, it hadn’t seemed to bother the lad all that much; mayhap he had grown accustomed to it, and accepting their jests in self-deprecation was his way of coping with the creeping dread he felt. It was much the same when the Scions of the Seventh Dawn passed beneath the enormous torii gate of Kugane, pressing onward in the hopes of finding passage to Yanxia, only to discover their path barred by pirate-infested waters no ship’s captain dared to cross. Alisaie and Lyse gently teased Alphinaud that they may need to swim their way across, Haurchefant gallantly coming to Alphinaud’s defense even as the lad protested that he did not need it.
But their words faded into the background, as Gisele stood upon the shore of the Ruby Price, for she froze staring out at the water as though she were rooted to the very immaculately kept stone. The vastness of that sea, so pristine blue, was incalculable. Here and there she spotted islands upon the horizon, rolling hills and mountains towering up from the deep. But there was so very much water between them, and her. Though she found it peaceful and serene, nonetheless did her breath hitch and her heart pound within her chest, her bronze skin suddenly pearled with beads of chilled damp. She clutched at the hem of her sleeve, in a desperate attempt to conceal the trembling of her fingers.
“Gisele?”
Flinching at the sound of Lyse’s voice calling to her, Gisele turned to see Lyse’s mouth curved down into a frown as she tilted her head towards her. “Are you alright?” Lyse asked.
They all turned to Gisele, then, the four of them, with raised eyebrows and pursed lips by turns, leveling questioning gazes at her. And as she felt the weight of their stares boring into her, she wrapped her arms about her stomach, clutching her waist tightly; she bowed her head, unable to bear it. Was she not the one Eorzea named Warrior of Light? How could she be so foolish?
She felt the unmistakable touch of Haurchefant’s mailed gauntlet upon her shoulder, the mythrite chain brushing cool against her skin, but Gisele flinched once more.
“What’s the matter, love?” Haurchefant whispered, furrowing his brow in confusion.
Gisele glanced back up at him, then the others; there was naught to be had in dissembling, she thought with a sigh, her heart racing. Not now.
“I do not know how to swim,” she said, quite simply.
They were all silent a long moment.
“By the Fury, Gisele…” Haurchefant gasped, raising his hand to his heart in disbelief. “Truly?”
“I do not play you false, my love, nor do I jest,” Gisele said, swallowing hard. Such a powerful sorceress was Hydaelyn’s Champion, Scion of the Seventh Dawn who mastered near every form of magic she ever encountered, Eorzea’s great heroine who brought low the Black Wolf of Garlemald and the Heavens’ Ward by turns, the woman all Ishgard adored as Nidhogg’s Bane…and yet she could not do so simple a thing, a thing that mere children the realm over could do.
She could not help the hot tears that formed in her eyes, and silently cursed herself for them.
“But you journeyed through Dravania!” Alisaie exclaimed. “I know how deep that river runs in places. How in the world did you cross it?”
“I feigned injury, and Estinien bore me upon his back,” Gisele mumbled, bowing her head yet lower.
Alphinaud pursed his lips, frowning. “I’d wondered why, at the time, but chose to keep my suspicions to myself, for the sake of your dignity.” He paused, his eyes gentle, regarding her with warmth and kindness as he always did. “Forgive me, Gisele, for I would be the last to cast aspersions upon you for it, but…how did you never learn?”
“I spent the better part of my childhood locked away in a gilded cage, Alphi. Did I never tell you said cage was upon an island, the very heart of Lake Calenhad? Well, of a surety it was, and quite deliberately designed that way. There was but one way off the island, the small boat ran by the ferryman Kester. Though it was malms and malms to the hamlet upon the shore, the Templars who watched over us took no chances, and none of us were instructed in the art of swimming,” Gisele replied. She snorted softly then, in a moment of fleeting, bitter remembrance. “The Chantry would never deign vouchsafe to us the very means by which her charges might escape her loving embrace.”
“How unbelievably irresponsible of them! What if there should be an accident?” Alisaie cried, with a horrified gasp.
Gisele stared at her rather pointedly. “There were, though the Templars’ eyes were ever watchful upon us. But such was life in the Circle Tower—tomorrow was a fleeting dream and was not promised to us. A friend, a comrade with whom one might converse, seeing daily at repast, might one day simply disappear, lost to failure in the Harrowing or Maker only knew what else. But I know there were some who attempted the passage, and drowned. Betimes it was whispered, as these things so often were.”
Wordlessly, Haurchefant reached for her, pulling her into his arms. “Ah, Gisele…my heart weeps to hear you speak of these cruelties you were so forced to endure, and at so tender an age besides. Why did you never speak of this before?”
“Because I was—and am—filled with the deepest shame at it, Haurche,” Gisele said, matter-of-factly. “With all due respect, Alphinaud is but a lad, and these things might be so easily forgiven in him. But I am ten winters his elder, and all the realm looks to me as some manner of great heroine. How could they, if they knew I could not do so simple a thing as cross a lake? I crossed the Steps of Faith to slay Nidhogg, yet I could not cross a river. I feared not the master of the Dravanian Horde, but I fear the Ruby Sea. It’s utter nonsense, and disgraceful.”
“Because you are a great heroine,” Haurchefant insisted. “The greatest Eorzea has ever known, might I add. And though your skill is unmatched in magic, we none of us are perfect, my love—not even Nidhogg’s Bane. Would that you did not punish yourself for it, for it makes you no less a heroine to be mortal.”
She clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder for a moment, and took a deep, steadying breath before turning to lean back against him. She glanced to Alisaie then; the girl’s expression was rather crestfallen, and she frowned in pensive silence a long while before speaking. “All those things I said to Alphinaud…if I had known you couldn’t either, I…” Alisaie stammered.
“It’s of no moment, cherie,” Gisele said, smiling at her in reassurance. “You did not know, and it was but sibling banter besides.”
“Well, I don’t think any less of you. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, really!” Lyse said. “At any rate, it’s hardly your fault.”
Gisele shoulders relaxed, within the comforting circle of Haurchefant’s arms; yet more when he gently released her, and began to knead them softly. He bent down, then, and pressed his lips softly against her brow. When he rose straight and tall once more, Gisele could spy quite the familiar gleam in his summer blue eyes, the fire of sudden conviction come upon him, and she smiled a little at it.
“I shall teach you myself, and you shall be so adept as to put a mermaid to shame by the time we are finished!” Haurchefant declared, squeezing her shoulders with a determined grin. “Mayhap we should return hence to the Kugane Dori markets, and find there some deliciously risqué bathing attire for the occasion. For freedom of movement, of course; it would not do to keep those lithe and delightfully toned limbs so restricted! Ah, I know the Hingans are modest in such matters, of course, but I’m certain we could purchase something suitably tiny and tantalizing, to enhance your…assets.”
Gisele burst into laughter, her cheeks grown flushed with warmth even as it spread within her heart.
“All this water, and still so thirsty,” Alisaie said wryly.
“One cannot sustain oneself upon salt, young Mistress Leveilleur,” Haurchefant said rather sagely.
“Dunno. S’htola manages it rather well, I think,” Lyse remarked.
A smile, warm and true. The gentle fire in the background, crackling and dimly lighting the lavish living room. They sat upon the plush lounge in front of the fire, oblivious to the wind howling outside, the silent snowflakes battering against the window. In here, it was warm. In here it was comforting, it was safe. There was nowhere else as nice, nowhere else they found comfort.
A sip of the sweet wine. A toast, the soft clanging of glasses. Their voices carried throughout the otherwise silent halls. The manor was large, yet everywhere else was silent. No other room was lit; the one servant had long since retired to his own room a distance away. Here, they were alone. It was just the two of them, trading stories of adventure, of gossip, of whatever it was they could think of.
A brush of hands. They sat next to each other, close enough to feel the others’ heat. Close enough to hear every little intake of breath, each small little chuckle. They were lost in their own fleeting, intimate little world. It wouldn’t be long before they would realise their respective duties needed them, but until that time, they remained as they were. Yet, to them, time stood still. They would enjoy the fleeting time they had with each other.
They would remain as they were, fingers laced, peaceful. There was a war raging, yet here, it didn’t reach them. There would be a time when the couple would have to part, where one nation needed one, and the entire world needed the other. There would be a time when she would have to fight. There would be a time when he would have to debate. That time was not now.
For now, they would remain here, even were the world to end around them.
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