Chapter Text
“I don’t understand, Aymeric,” said Estinien across the table.
“Nothing new there,” Haurchefant mumbled beside him, earning an elbow in the ribs.
They were eating their dinner in the barracks mess hall, and Estinien was sitting, as usual, across from Aymeric and beside Haurchefant. “You’ve been so … so exhausted recently -” at this, Aymeric sighed and closed his eyes, “so why make it worse for yourself by signing up for Saint Daniffen’s vigil in the dead of night?”
Aymeric kept his eyes closed, and to Estinien, the dark circles below them were even more pronounced without the piercing blue of his eyes above them. “If you don’t understand by now, then what can I even say?” Aymeric replied, listlessly brandishing his fork.
Haurchefant narrowed his eyes, giving Aymeric a pointed stare. “Come on, Aymeric. He’s asking.”
“I -” Aymeric glanced up at Haurchefant, almost pleading, but something about the look Haurchefant was giving him changed his mind. “You’re right,” he said, turning back to Estinien. “It’s hard to explain, but the vigil-keeping seems to help me sleep better, somehow. In addition to it being quite a beautiful spiritual experience, that is.”
Estinien was never good at keeping his facial expressions under control - one of the ancillary reasons he wanted to become a Knight Dragoon was to wear the blinded helm and not have to worry about his face betraying his every thought - and his eyes started to roll without his say-so. Haurchefant elbowed him, jostling his knife as he was cutting his meat and making it clatter along his plate. “You wanted to know, didn’t you?!”
Estinien’s quick reflexes made sure his chunk of roasted loaghtan hadn’t gone flying. He began to formulate an angry admonishment to Haurchefant, but stopped himself because he realized he was right. He turned back to Aymeric and said, as gently as he could manage, “pray, forgive me. Continue.”
Aymeric considered his next words, and Estinien could see his face soften as he recalled the experiences he’d had at late-night vigil for the past two weeks. Even though he still looked tired, the passion and devotion that Estinien admired about him shone through as he spoke. “You know, the tradition of keeping vigil has been around for longer than the Halonic church,” he said. “It’s not unusual for people not to be able to sleep through the night, as Brother Jacques-Endalim told me when I came to him with my sleeping problem. It was he who suggested this course of action, you see,” he said. This was a surprise to Estinien, who had not known that Aymeric was regularly in contact with the Temple Knights’ chaplain. He raised his eyebrows in interest. Haurchefant did not seem surprised by this revelation.
“He said that when left with the choice of tossing and turning in bed, fighting oneself for a slumber that won’t come, and deliberately awakening in prayerful meditation for a set period of time before returning to sleep peacefully, well … one sounds much more appealing than the other, wouldn’t you agree?”
Estinien nodded, for when phrased like that, he could see the appeal. “And Saint Daniffen comes into it …?”
“As good company. And as a shining example of faith. And I feel -” at this point, Aymeric hesitated. It looked as though he was considering how much he should share of his personal faith. The three of them were nominally Halonic, of course, like all good recruits of the Temple Knights, but Aymeric’s devotion had always seemed to run deeper than either Estinien’s or Haurchefant’s. Estinien himself knew that nothing could get in the way of his path of vengeance on Nidhogg, and he knew that if he threw himself into studying his Enchiridion and his Halonic doctrine with even a fraction of the passion and drive that kept him training to be a Knight Dragoon, he would be forced to confront the big questions of faith, such as “why me, Halone? Why Ferndale?”
Best to just let it lie.
Estinien also had his suspicions about Haurchefant’s easy lack of piety. They had never spoken about it, but it was not hard to imagine how it might rankle to hear the daily preaching of “all men are equal under the eyes of Halone,” and then experience something quite different after the sermon. Some men of Ishgard - like those with the privilege to use the name de Fortemps officially, perhaps - were, in practice, more equal than others.
Estinien didn’t begrudge Aymeric his piety and his faith. Though the rumours about his true parentage ever followed him like so many vile whispers on the wind, somehow he never fell victim to the Halonic hangups that had hardened Estinien and Haurchefant. Even so, the profundity of Aymeric’s spiritual beliefs wasn’t something that often came up in casual dinner conversation.
With another glance at Haurchefant, Aymeric steeled himself before turning back to Estinien and leaning closer over the table, almost conspiratorially. “I feel like Halone herself is guiding me to him,” he said softly. “Saint Daniffen in particular wasn’t the Brother’s suggestion, just that I keep a midnight vigil of some kind. But there’s something about him. It’s as though there is something She wants me to experience by keeping vigil with him specifically. She makes me feel … welcomed. Wanted.” Here Aymeric hesitated, and glanced down at his plate of food, unable to keep eye contact. “Dare I say, loved.”
Estinien was amazed, incredulous. “All this from sitting with a statue?”
Haurchefant elbowed him again, this time harder. Estinien rounded on him, saying “You gobshite, I’ll -”
“You idiot, you asked him, and he’s telling you!”
Once again, Estinien realized he was in the wrong a moment too late. Mentally kicking himself, he looked abashedly across at his dearest friend, who was still gazing downward at his dinner. Somehow despite his deep respect and admiration - and dare he admit, adoration - for Aymeric, he always managed to put his foot in his mouth at the most important times. And if he were being honest again, most times, whether they were important or not.
It was for this reason, among many others, he was certain that they could never be more than friends. Aymeric was too dignified, too well-spoken, too beautiful to be with someone as gruff and unpolished as him. A goal to become an efficient instrument of destruction as a Knight Dragoon, and a goal to exact revenge on Nidhogg was all he had going for him, and beyond that, there simply wasn’t any room for anything else. The idle thoughts of romance needed to stay idle. A grand romance, or even a good marriage, like many Temple Knights looked forward to after their service, wasn’t in the cards for the likes of him.
But it didn’t mean he would stop thinking about it. “Idle thoughts” were still present thoughts, after all.
“Aymeric, I’m sorry,” he said, softly. Beside him, Haurchefant crossed his arms, silently encouraging him to elaborate on his apology.
Aymeric lifted his beautiful gaze up from his plate, expectant and hopeful, and Estinien’s heart skipped a beat before he gathered himself enough to continue. “I … I only wished to understand. I keep always saying the wrong thing, though.” He chuckled at himself, wondering again why Aymeric and Haurchefant even bothered to keep his company. “Would you show me?” he asked, the words leaving his mouth before his brain could filter them.
Beside him, Haurchefant slammed his fist on the table and grunted in what sounded, incongruently, like triumph.
Aymeric gasped, a look of absolute shock on his face, and glanced quickly over to Haurchefant, who had gotten himself back under control, before looking back at Estinien. “What, you mean - you’d accompany me?”
He didn’t think at first that the request was so strange - but you didn’t think, you fool, that’s the problem, said the unbidden voice in his head. The others’ reactions made him realize, belatedly, that yes, “could I watch you pray?” might actually be considered quite a strange request. Not “could I pray with you?”, which might be the more normal way to ask such a thing.
But he had had to backpedal so much in this conversation already, he couldn’t bring himself to do it again.
He sighed, and stood behind his request. “Yes, if it were allowed.”
“I - I can’t see any reason why not,” Aymeric replied, a smile slowly replacing the shocked expression on his face. “The vigils are kept so the saints have their company, and I daresay in this instance, more is better.”
“That’s the spirit,” Haurchefant said.