#quinn lore

[quinn-borel]

“We can,” he muttered, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, love.” Quinn rolled onto her side and propped her head upon his chest, “…Duty calls. For the both of us.”

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[wolves-in-the-world]

the problem with quinn's favourite knife is I could research for months and still not have the hands-on murder experience to actually decide on what he might reasonably think is the Ideal Knife for his purposes.

the other problem is that, if his reasons are more sentimental than practical, there are so many options and all of them are great.

-- the one given to him by the person who trained him

-- the first knife he killed someone with

-- the knife he bought with his first paycheck (along with his first good suit)

-- the one stolen from an enemy shortly before or after their death

-- the one stolen from an ALLY shortly before or after their death

-- the one eliot looked at and gave an approving nod

-- the one eliot looked at and said "are you kidding me? you're bringing that?" and, of course, quinn had to prove him wrong

-- the one he used to open a package eliot was struggling with the first time they were holed up in a safehouse together. eliot cooked for them afterwards and they had a pretty good time, given the circumstances.

and look, it was a new knife, quinn was going to use it For Work after that, but he… doesn't. he just doesn't. he uses it for everything else and keeps it sharp, keeps it clean, and it's fine. it's his lucky charm now, apparently. he's not going to question why.

[transexuality]

only child (OR like me and youngest child raised as only bc when you were born all your siblings were moved out)

THATS ACTUALLY REALLY CLOSE, all of my siblings are older than me and im the only one living at home

[quinn-borel]

“…’Twould be remiss of me to deny you that.” he whispered, “I will provide you the safest home. And I will love you for as long as my heart beats in my breast.”

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[quinn-borel]

I would like you to write a fic about Quinn taking care of her son Hauchefant.

“Remember not to have too much coffee, my lady.” the steward reminded Quinn as she was about to pour herself another cup from the carafe.  She frustratingly tapped her finger on the table as she pulled back—he was right, but she needed that extra bit of juice to get her morning started.  The previous night had been a late one as per usual, and unlike her husband, she was far from a morning person.  The steward instead offered to pour her a glass of water, which she could enjoy with her eggs and toast.  

“Thank you.” she said with a bitter smile, her tired eyes following the steward as he excused himself from the breakfast nook with the coffee carafe in hand—no longer would she be tempted to exceed her one-cup limit for the morning.  As usual, the eggs were fluffy and flavorful and the toast, crunchy to perfection, just the way she liked it.  It only took the house Borel steward a few weeks to make her breakfast the way Aymeric made it for her on days he didn’t have to attend early morning meetings.  It was quite impressive.  Though it would have been more enjoyable to share the meal with her husband, who hastily said his farewells as she was getting herself dressed.  He, too, admittedly slept in due to their elongated night.  

“Did milord eat breakfast this morning?” she called to the steward, who poked his head back into the nook,

“Unfortunately, he did not.  Though, I presume he will return ‘round the noon hour for a meal.”

“Gods, I hope so.” she sighed, “He’s been running himself ragged.”  The steward had no retort as he went back to his duties.  Quinn lost her appetite upon hearing that Aymeric, once again, skipped breakfast due to his station.  The practice was becoming all-to-common for her liking, yet it pained her to have to lecture him once more while she had the luxury of staying at home for the time being.  The lady of the house stood up from the table and abandoned her plate, leaving half a piece of toast and a quarter of her eggs to the side, a choice she would later regret.  

Quinn made her way down the main hall towards the western wing of the house.  Although she had no plans for the day involving anything outside the house, she couldn’t help but to be lost in thought as she calculated her plans for the day.

“Oh, I didn’t have tea with someone today, did I?” she muttered, “I really need to buy a planner or something to write these things down.  Oh, but then I have to go to the Crozier to find one.  It’s been snowing a lot lately, and I’d rather not take him out in the cold just to get a notebook.  Perhaps I can ask Aym to buy me one?  No, he should really be home to rest...”

Admittedly, she found herself bound to the house for the foreseeable future, especially as winter roared in with its nasty weather as it so loved to do.  While Ishgard was an eternal winter scape, when the Eorzean calendar read the beginnings of the sixth umbral moon every resident knew that it was winter winter.   She would just have to hunker down and wait it out…

…at least she wasn’t alone during the day anymore.

Five moons prior, Quinn had given birth to her and Aymeric’s son, lovingly named Haurchefant de Borel.  He was born a healthy weight with this father’s eyes and his mother’s complexion, with an infectious smile and laughter that could fill a room.  He was their pride and joy, and undoubtedly a symbol of their love.  

Opening the door to their room, Quinn felt the stress of the early morning lift from her shoulders as she heard Haurchefant babbling in his bassinet.  While he may have been the reason she was up so late the night before, Quinn was elated to see him up and about.  At least, as about as a five month old could be.

“Looks like someone is finally awake.” she giggled as she approached Haurchefant’s crib, which sat in the corner of her and Aymeric’s room while his true room was being redecorated.  The little one stared at his mother curiously for a moment before smiling and kicking his feet in excitement—at least, kicking as much as he could while swaddled in his layered onesie.  Quinn leaned over his cot, gently touching her fingertip to the tip of his nose, “Good morning, my little lord.”

Haurchefant giggled in response as he reached for his mother’s hand.  Upon grasping her finger, his other hand went to his mouth as he looked at her almost expectantly.  The hand that touched his mouth flailed a bit more before touching his mouth again.  She knew exactly what that meant.

“Is my little Haurchie hungry?” she cooed playfully, “My smart little man knows how to tell me that he is, doesn’t he?”

He nearly slapped his mouth in protest, brow furrowed as if his signal did nothing to her since there was no milk in sight.  But Quinn knew better than to make her little guy wait, immediately lifting him out of the bassinet and bringing him over to the rocking chair in the opposite corner of the room,

“I can’t wait until you’re in your own room, it’s crowded in here.” she lamented as her gaze fell to all the baby necessities littered in the once-spacious master bedroom.  But, soon he would be old enough to be in his own room…and maybe she and Aymeric could finally get some decent sleep.  

Haurchefant fussed as there was still no sign of milk, a tiny whine coming from his mouth in frustration.  How could she be so cruel?  He was hungry, and he was hungry now.  Even if he was picked up, which he loved, he still wasn’t getting anything to eat!  Impatient as he was, the babe began to fuss even louder, despite his mother sitting down and positioning herself for a comfortable feeding time for the both of them.

“Now, now…” Quinn bit her lip a bit, trying not to raise her voice as he began to whine louder.  She gently hushed him as she slid down one side of her dress, exposing her breast just before the infant had a full-on tantrum.  Bringing the babe to her bosom, Haurchefant quickly latched on to her nipple and began to nurse…as if he wasn’t fed just a few hours beforehand.  Quinn sighed and leaned back a bit, holding her son in the optimal position so that he could have his breakfast without any disruption.   

Finally, some food!

“I’m still so glad you don’t have teeth yet.” she muttered,  “…To the bottle with you when that happens.”

Of course the baby was unfazed by his mother’s promise to bottle feed him if he bit her, he was too busy focusing on his own morning routine.  The little boy had his own day ahead of him—breakfast with mom, some burping, a walk around the house, and then that dreaded tummy time…but somewhere in there, lunch! And dinner! And a snack, maybe?  It was a tight schedule, with little room to let his mother do much for herself.  Though he would certainly let her know if she was slacking in her duties.

With a yawn, Quinn sat back in her chair and did what she could to keep her eyes open.  With the vision of her son fading in an out, she used her free hand to tap her cheek in an attempt to fully wake.  She wondered if Aymeric faired the same, sitting at his desk looming over paperwork with his eyelids drooping from the lack of sleep.  She could not quite recall the last time each of them had a full night’s rest…maybe five months ago, she assumed.  

Yet even with tired eyes, the moment she looked down at her suckling babe she couldn’t help but to beam with delight.  That was her boy; her little baby boy.  Sure, he had a habit of wailing and crying at night and fussed throughout the day, but those moments were miniscule compared to the quiet moments where he bonded with his mother like so.  Or, the moments when he giggled and smiled up at his father, both sharing the same bright, blue eyes and wavy black hair.  

Quinn could still recount the moment Aymeric held their son for the first time–how he wept with joy, praising Halone for such a healthy boy and thanking his wife for giving him such a blessing.  The pair were nearly inseparable until the little one cried out for his first meal.  Of course, Aymeric would soon have to return to his duties, leaving the babe in the care of Quinn for most of the day.  But for sure, upon his return home every night after kissing his wife he would take his son into his arms once more, giving Quinn her much-needed break.

“All done?” she asked curiously as Haurchefant nuzzled his head against her, softly smacking his lips together with quite the bit of milk dribbling out of his mouth.  As per their routine, she pulled the babe up and near her shoulder, patting him on the back until the softest belch came out of him.  And then some…

“Y-yeah, you’re done.”

 “b-buhb ba…”

“I’m glad you’re full.” she giggled, pressing her lips to his cheek  before returning him to his bassinet for a moment.  

But, oh, he wouldn’t have that.  While his mother was fixing her dress back to the way it was, he was determined to get her attention once again.  A loud screech came from the bassinet as he kicked as best as he could through his swaddle, Quinn wincing slightly before she got the hint.

“Alright, alright.” she cooed as she once again lifted him up and into her arms.  He squealed with delight, his smile brightening up the room as he looked at his mother with adoration.  Quinn began to sway with him in her arms, humming softly before pressing another kiss to his forehead.

“Well come and well met, my brave little spark…” she hummed, “how long you’ve wandered, burned bright as a star…”

The babe grinned as his mother sang to him, a hand reaching up to touch her face which she allowed as she lowered her head to kiss her son once more,

“Oh, I have awaited you patiently all this time...”

And she continued to sing and sing, lulling her baby into a calming sleep until she was able to place him back into the bassinet without worry of a tantrum.  Upon her final verse, she sat herself on her bed, eyes slowly closing as she hummed,

“…for this journey’s end...is but one step forward to...tomorrow…”

And with a final note, Quinn fell back asleep.

An early morning nap between mother and child never hurt anyone.

[quinn-borel]

A Familiar Face

“A ball?” Quinn asked quizzically over the breakfast table at Fortemps manor. 

“A ball? In these times?  I can hardly see how it is appropriate when the Dravanians are nearly at your doorstep.” Alphinaud mused to himself as he sat across from Quinn, barely touching his breakfast.  Lord Edmont de Fortemps sat at the head of the table, placing his knife and fork down as he looked towards the youngest Elezen at the table,

“Be that as it may, the lords of Ishgard aren’t one to forsake an excuse to hold a party.  This one will be smaller than the usual foray, but nevertheless, I was requested to bring Eorzea’s savior in tow, along with my sons.”

“Why me?” Quinn tilted her head a bit, “I’m not of nobility.  Sure, I’m your ward, but if anything, I’m just a runaway.  Wouldn’t Alphinaud be a better choice to attend?  He’s more…diplomatic.”

“This is probably a way for the Lords to put you under a microscope,” Alphinaud pointed out, “I’m sure despite the city being as closed as it is, word has traveled of your deeds.  Given how close you’ve been working with House Fortemps these last few weeks, I’d say you may have become a popular topic of gossip, I’m afraid.”

Quinn sighed, absolutely defeated by the truth that came from her fellow Scion.  Nothing sounded less appealing than getting dressed up and mocked and prodded all night by a load of stuffy nobles.  She looked to Edmont with pleading eyes, as if to say, ‘Please, don’t make me go, dad.’.  But to no avail, he closed his eyes and gently grasped his cup of coffee,

“It will be tomorrow evening, around sunset.  We will have a seamstress fit you with a proper gown as well–at our cost, of course.”

Quinn sank in her seat, the feeling of dread wafting over her.  She was never one for formal events, nay, she was an adventurer and heart and a bard by trade. She wasn’t meant to dance along with Ishgardian nobles, she was meant to sing and parade around tavern locals. 

“C’mon, Quinn, old girl, it won’t be that bad!” Emmanellain stated as he entered the breakfast nook with Honoroit behind him, “A night of food, wine, and dancing with some of the finest in all of Ishgard.  It will be a delightful event, for sure!”

He was a little too excited for the gala for Quinn’s taste, she sank further in her chair in response.  Alphinaud shrugged with a wry smile as he looked upon his friend with pity.  She would have to take the fall that evening while he continued his work at the manor.  Quinn stared blankly at the young Elezen across from her, irritated that he had no further objection to the idea.

“Who knows, maybe this will be good for you, Quinn.” Alphinaud finally broke the silence between them, smiling into his morning tea, “It may teach you some class.”

“Oh, haha, you’re so funny, Alphi.” Quinn extended her leg underneath the table and practically dug her toe into the young lad’s shin.  He yelped in response, almost dropping his teacup and saucer.  Despite everything that happened to him, there was still an air of cheekiness to him.  That, he hadn’t grown out of just yet.

——

The evening approached rather quickly, almost too quickly to Quinn’s dismay.  She arrived at the House Durendaire estate along with Edmont, Emmanellain, and Artoirel, adorned with the finest Ishgardian gown that matched the other ladies in attendance.  Truly, one could not distinguish her in the crowd—she looked as if she belonged within the circle of socialites.  Her only distinguishing feature was the grimace on her face as they walked about, obviously displeased to even be there in the first place.  The dress was uncomfortable, her bodice was tighter than she’d like, and the extra makeup on her visage felt caked-on and unbearable.  Artoirel had her on his arm, serving as her official ‘date’ for the gala, for every lady needed an escort of sorts. 

“At least try to act the part,” he muttered under his breath so that only she could hear him, “you’re already under scrutiny, after all.  Best you act like you want to be here.”

“Maybe if I had a drink…” Quinn eyed the refreshment table from afar, manned by a steward who seemed to be serving the finest ports.  While she was more partial to ale and hard liquor, wine would certainly do the trick in calming her nerves. 

“Just don’t go overboard.” He warned her as he allowed his arm to fall, allowing Quinn to float away from him and gravitate towards the table with glee.  At the very least, it got her to drop her sour expression.

As she approached the table, Quinn could overhear some faint whispers around her,

“….outsider.”

“….Fortemps ward…..outsider…”

“….oh, it’s her…..Eorzea’s ‘savior’….”

“…..drunkard…..harpy”

That last one stung a bit.  Sure, she got around, but outside of Ishgard only.  Not once had she bed anyone since her arrival in the city-state, and she barely visited the Forgotten Knight for a drink.  At least, that’s what she could remember…

One drink was followed by another as she strode around the gala, visiting the refreshment table every time her glass went dry.  It put her at ease, her body feeling warm with her cheeks and suddenly the whispers were so faint they barely bothered her. 

Let them talk.  I’m Quinn-fucking-Rin’ria, the savior of Eorzea.

She spun around a bit to the music as she came dangerously close to the dance floor.  A few patrons had to step aside in order to not be bumped into, yet, one guest in particular was not so lucky.  Quinn’s hand smacked the arm of one Ser Forlemort, who immediately whipped around and glared at the young woman,

“Bah, you again!” He coughed, “I thought I’d had enough of you and your party poking your nose around Ishgard, yet here you are in the city.  I can’t believe they let rabble like you in.”

Quinn glared back, yet a smirk was painted across her features, “Same goes to you, old man. They should have kept you locked in that observatorium where you belong to wither away.”

“How dare you, you drunken-” he stopped and his gaze went upwards, past Quinn as if there were someone behind him.  He gritted his teeth and turned away, muttering curses under his breath as he went back to his own party.  Quinn tensed up as she, too, felt a looming presence behind her—such a presence that seemed to startle the old man back to what he was doing.  She slowly turned to find a rather tall Elezen standing behind her, dark hair with piercing blue eyes and a warm smile with a look of bemusement on his face. 

“Are you always getting into trouble like this?” He asked.

“Ser Aymeric?” Quinn straightened up at the sight of the man no longer in his imposing golden armor, but rather relaxed in what she figured was the standard Ishgardian evening coat.  She shook her head a bit, trying to clear her mind so that she could talk to him without coming off as a drunken fool, “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“As the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, I have a duty as a representative here at these formal events.  But that aside, I am more surprised to see you here.”

“Me? Well, I was encouraged to come here as a member of House Fortemps.” She explained, “Though I think I was invited here to be more of an entertainment piece than a guest…” Her gaze fell to the floor, and Aymeric looked awkwardly off to the side,

“I cannot deny that I have heard whispers of you here and there.  Though, I feel that now is a time where I can meet the proclaimed ‘Warrior of Light’ on a more personal level to expunge such rumors I’ve been hearing.”

“Truly?” Quinn looked to him rather curiously, “Well, those rumors are rather true. I’m just a bumbling outsider who drinks too much.  Aside from the whole ‘savior of Eorzea’ thing.”

Aymeric chuckled, offering his hand to her as the music changed, “If I may?”

She wouldn’t let his charm get to her, her trust in people already as fragile as ever.  Yet, something compelled her to take his offer, her slightly-shaky hand touching his palm.  Aymeric guided her to the dance floor,

“Do you dance?” He asked.

“Not particularly.  I mean, I used to when I was a young one.”

“It should be easy to catch on.  Just follow my lead.”

The pair made their way to the dance floor, Aymeric taking the lead in their waltz,

“…So, how much wine have you had this evening?”

“That’s,” she hiccupped softly, “none of your business, Ser Aymeric.  Is that what they teach fancy nobles to say to a lady during their first dance?”

“I consider us friends at this point,” he said with a warm smile, “I was just wondering if you were enjoying yourself, that’s all.”

“Oh, Gods,” she sighed, “between you and I, I’d rather be performing at the Forgotten Knight than dolled up and in this place.”

“Well, if it means anything to you, you clean up well.”

“You as well, Ser Aymeric.”

Quinn’s feet moved in unison with Aymeric’s, as if she were a well-seasoned dancer. Their movements flowed with ease, Aymeric being somewhat gentle with the way he held her hand and somewhat timid with the way his other hand sat at her hip.  Quinn expected a military leader to be a bit rougher with his movements, but something about Aymeric seemed more refined and gentlemanly.  He truly was treating her with care, and she noticed.

“So, question and answer time,” Quinn began, “you said you wanted to get to know me better?”

“Well, just by your movements alone I’ve gained quite a bit of insight.”

“Hmm,” she tilted her head, the alcohol really taking effect, “I guess then I can keep my mouth shut for the rest of this dance then?”

She looked at him with a smile.  Her smile.  The smile of a thousand suns, one would describe.  Aymeric’s grip tightened slightly on her hand, and his eyes glistened ever subtly. 

“You needn’t silence yourself.  In fact, I encourage you to tell me a little more about yourself.”

“What is there to tell that you haven’t already studied with your ‘borderline fascination’?” She mused, “I’m an adventurer, a member of the Scions, and a bard by trade.  I like to drink and dance and be merry.  Not much to tell you past that.”

“I see.” His gaze never left hers, and the two of them locked eyes as they went about another turn in the dance.

“Boring, right?”

“On the contrary.  I knew you had skill with a bow, but I wasn’t aware you were an entertainer.”

“You should stop by the inn some nights, if you’re not busy being…commander and all that…I’m sometimes there.”

“I may just have to.”

The beat of the music slowed down, just a tad, just enough to where the world itself seemed to stop at that very instant.  His piercing blue gaze felt as if it went right through her, as if he were studying her.  Yet, there was a tinge of red in his ear, something that Quinn failed to notice past his stare.

“Something wrong, Lord Commander?” Quinn asked, noticing that Aymeric suddenly went quiet.  He shook his head immediately, continuing to smile back at her with his charming expression. The music changed number, meaning that their dance had come to an end.  Aymeric gracefully released her, bowing slightly to thank her for the dance.

“I hope that we can see each other again soon, my friend.” He said, “It was a delight dancing with you.”

“You’re too formal,” Quinn teased, “I thought we were friends.”

“Ah, you’re right.” Aymeric straightened himself before looking to his left to see that Artoirel had approached them, “Lord Artoirel, it is a pleasure to see you.”

“Same to you, Ser Aymeric.” Artoirel gave him a slight bow, “I see you’ve had a chance to get more acquainted with Quinn here.”

“Please, we barely talked.” Quinn huffed,

“Well, perhaps we should choose a different venue next time.” Aymeric replied back, “One where you’re more comfortable.”

“I’ll take that offer.” Quinn shot back with a big grin, “Drinks on Ser Aymeric at the Forgotten Knight!”

Artoirel sighed, pressing his fingertips to his forehead, yet Aymeric patted his shoulder with a chuckle, “I tag out to you, friend.  Take care of her.”

“Hm?”

“You heard him, Artoirel,” Quinn snickered, “You are my escort, after all.”

“Yes, yes, please remind me.” He sighed, turning to her and offering his hand, “Shall we?”

“Another dance?”

“No, I’m taking you home.”

“Gods, yes, finally.” Quinn sighed, grabbing his arm and leaning against him, “I’m getting tired of this place.”

“Lower your voice, please.”

——

“Artoirel-”

“Keep quiet.”

She hummed against his lips before he allowed her tongue in his mouth.  Artoirel kept his grip firm on her hips, allowing her to continue to grind against him in such a seductive manner. 

“By the Fury-” he muttered as she parted from him, she placed her fingertips against his lips to silence him.  Quinn smirked behind her drunken daze, sitting back on his lap as she ran her hands down his well-toned frame. 

It all started with their arrival back at Fortemps manor, Edmont and Emmanellain had not yet arrived and Quinn, inebriated to hell and back, felt that her sudden feelings of longing needed to be satiated.  Artoirel had no such immunity to her own personal charms, and one thing lead to another.  The once-irritable and stoic lord now lay on his bed, shirtless, being straddled by the Warrior of Light. 

“What? Do you think your daddy’s gonna hear us?” She muttered with a smirk, her aching hands slowly gliding down his abdomen and towards his belt, “It was just a matter of time, my good ser.  He would be proud to know you’ve bedded Eorzea’s savior.”

Artoirel’s lips made a thin line, his hands doing most of the talking as his grip tightened on her hips.  Quinn snickered at his response, tapping a finger to his nose.  Yet, as she leaned over the world shifted slightly and her vision blurred.  Perhaps….it was too much wine.  Perhaps, trying to drink away your anxiety was not the best plan of action.  Nay, the Warrior of Light, with as little grace as possible, closed her eyes and flopped on the side of his bed.  Sound asleep.  Artoirel sat up from his daze, looking over the poor thing and gently patting her head,

“I’ll carry you off to your room then.  Get some rest, ‘Warrior of Light’.”

[quinn-borel]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

After saving the star, Quinn Borel finds herself spent and exhausted from life as an adventurer. After having found comfort in her new retired life, a proposition is plopped in her lap. Now she must make the decision as to whether or not she wishes to embark on this new journey, or reject it for her peaceful life in Ishgard. Luckily, she has a partner who is willing to hear her plight.

[quinn-borel]

You know I have to ask—Quinn’s thoughts on Estinien

Oh Estinien…ohohoho Estinien….

Her memory of HW Estinien is a little fuzzy (ie: I need to replay HW to remember actual details) but they were on amicable terms for the most part, both fighting for the same cause and all that. Quinn understood Estinien’s need for vengeance, but she detested being seen as his equal by Aymeric (or at least, she assumed he alluded to that).

They did have a very short conversation post-Vault while Aymeric was being tended to by the chirurgeons for his wounds. Estinien had some…odd words of encouragement for her and actually helped her in her grief over Haurchefant. (once I replay HW, I will write this scene)

So, throughout Stormblood her view of Estinien was that of a man who was going through his own growth and she respected him for that, if not sort of looked up to him for it. She appreciated his work in being an intermediary between man and dragon and really had nothing but praises for him. They never really interacted directly though, and as far as Estinien was concerned Quinn was the same Quinn that she was in Heavensward.

Which is…a very different Quinn. A less tame Quinn. A loud and boisterous and drunk and promiscuous Quinn…

So post-Shadowbringers Quinn and Aymeric finally open up about their courtship and intent for marriage. Estinien learns about this and, is quite frankly, unimpressed with Aymeric’s choice in partner. Quinn is confused as to all hell why Estinien is so sour towards her, even going so far as to be dragged to their official ceremony in the Vault right before the events of 5.5 and not staying for the afterparty.

Then he becomes a Scion, and Quinn returns his feelings towards her by being equally sour and almost bullying and annoying him like a little sister would. He’s Aymeric’s best friend! It’s totally fine. And she’s being playful about it. But she holds less animosity towards him as he does to her.

She even chooses to invite him into her room before they travel to Ultima Thule, to which they have a pow-wow concerning Aymeric, and Quinn concedes that if she is Aymeric’s sun, Estinien is his moon. (Translation: We’re both important to him, so neither of us can die on this mission).

It’s definitely a big brother – little sister relationship up until the end of 6.0, where Estinien finally has respect for Quinn after all she had done for the star. She wasn’t the little drunken whore that she was when they first met, and he finally admits that she’s a stalwart ally.

While the patches aren’t necessarily canon, between 6.0 and 7.0, Quinn and Estinien have a good relationship with each other. They’re back to being amicable, but there’s still an air of tension between them that’s almost indescribable. They are like oil and water, much to Aymeric’s disappointment.

But they’re also like friendly rivals all the same. They’re Aymeric’s left and right hand.