FFXIVWrite2024 - Prompt 16
Fortemps household dynamics fascinate me endlessly, so here is some barely grown-up Artoriel POV
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 359 | read on Ao3
Artoirel de Fortemps | pre-ARR Rating: Teen. Character study, Ishgard society, Fortemps family, mention of infidelity (canonical), why is Artoirel the way he is? vague heavenwards spoilers
Third-rate
Artoirel de Fortemps doesn’t stop when he sees his little brother run past him, bloody nose and tears streaking down his face. He merely gets out of the way. Emmanellain doesn’t see him, his eyes on the ground as he rushes by. Probably running off to nanny, though he is far too big for that. Artoirel sneers, unbiddenly, and continues around the corner.
“Some third-rate knight he’ll be.”
“Third son, too.”
“More worthless than a bastard.”
This makes Artoirel pause. The statement is followed by raucous laughter. It would be unseemly to get in a fight over Haurchefant.
“Well, Haurchefant is a fine fellow.”
“For a bastard, aye.”
Someone snorts. “Don’t say that to his face. He trounced Delicrouxeus the other day. Mark my word, Count Fortemps will give him command of something.”
“Emond can’t even command his own dick.”
More laughter. Artoirel's ears burn. He bites his cheek. He cannot be unseemly. He needs to be above reproach. The Fury knows his brother isn’t going to be.
“Mayhap little Emmanellain is Halone’s punishment? A hapless idiot of a son.”
“Bet ol’ Edmont would have been happy with even another stick in the mud like Atoriel rather than Emmanellain.”
“If he kept himself true, he’d mayhap had a brave and personable trueborn son. They’d all be a third-rate House this way.”
His clenched fist hit the wall. Atoriel bites his cheek to keep from crying out. He cannot. His growth spurt done, he’d hardly get any taller, but he cannot take on three squires. He mustn’t.
“Kept himself pure – Haviellemont, you better learn that. I saw you with that wench in the Brume but two days ago.”
“And what were you doing there?”
The voices fade as Artoirel hurries away. He does not run. He is not his little brother. If only Emmanellain behaved proper, there would be no doubt about the honor of their house. He brings shame on them all. Artoirel reaches the fresh, crisp air. He cannot help his little brother’s follies. He simply must be a better example. Above reproach, the perfect heir. Father needs neither Haurchefant nor Emmanellain as long as Artoirel is peerless.
