Chapter Text
Estinien grumbles the entire way to his meeting with Aymeric, Alberic practically dragging him along as he slowly trudges along the street. “Just behave, please. I promise it'll go easier that way. Remember, no scowling.”
Alberic stops and turns to him as Estinien keeps digging in his heels. “I'm sorry. I know it's my fault you're having to do this, so I made sure he's alright. He seems nice, and he's rich enough you don't have to worry about money. It's hard to find a highborn man who wants to marry another man, and a lowborn one at that. He's one of the only men who agreed to consider a betrothal; you won't find anyone better. Do you want me to call this off?”
As much as he wants to agree, Estinien shakes his head. “You know how much being the Azure Dragoon means to me. You think I won't marry some stuck-up bastard if that's what it takes?” Aymeric seemed nice enough during their prior interaction, but Estinien has never trusted nobles.
Sighing, Alberic puts his head in his hands. “You shouldn't have to get married because I was too weak. You're not like me, you won't be too weak to handle Nidhogg's power and give it up. Now you aren’t trusted with that power, because I raised you.”
Maybe he could blame Alberic for it all, but Estinien has instead turned his ire to those who hold power; just because he's a lowborn orphan, he's considered less competent than someone with a title.
A husband is required to watch over Estinien and tattle to his betters if he has trouble keeping Nidhogg under control. A noble one, who will likely look down on him and wouldn't hesitate to put him down if he goes mad.
Estinien speaks up, his voice full of conviction he doesn’t feel. “I'll prove them wrong, but I won't get the chance if I don't do this. Heustienne will get picked just because she's noble. If I have my own title, I'll at least stand a chance, and the nobles can brag about how the Azure Dragoon is one of them.”
“Whatever happens, I'll support you. I know you'll be a better Azure Dragoon than I was.” Alberic squeezes his shoulder, and they resume walking.
He bites his lip and attempts to settle his nerves as Alberic knocks on the door of Borel Manor, an older manservant answering the door.
“Welcome. Lord Borel is ready to receive you.” The man bows and gestures for them to step inside, out of the biting cold.
The door closes behind them, and Estinien soon feels warmer. Alberic is already greeting the man, leaving his son be, and he lets his gaze wander. Even the entrance hall is unbearably formal, and he feels terribly out of place. The royal blue wallpaper alone probably costs more than he could ever afford. A grand staircase leads to the second floor, and the large windows are draped in heavy golden curtains. He'll never belong here.
Estinien is pulled from his thoughts when the servant starts down the hall, and Alberic motions for them to follow. A few formal portraits of lords and ladies line the hall, staring down at him with what he imagines is disgust.
They enter a richly appointed sitting room where Aymeric sits on an overstuffed couch, a tray of tea and cookies before him. He looks up with a nervous smile when Estinien and Alberic enter.
“‘Tis a pleasure to formally meet you, Ser Estinien, Ser Alberic.” Aymeric rises to his feet, only to kneel before Estinien and kiss the back of his hand. He fights the urge to snatch it away on instinct.
He hates these noble formalities. He'd already met Aymeric before, months ago, during an ill-fated patrol. They were the only survivors. Estinien had felt the unfamiliar warmth of friendship for a short time, until they returned to Ishgard together. Then reality intruded and ruined his hopes of perhaps having a single friend, someone he could trust and confide in.
He learned the man who saved him was Aymeric de Borel, the man rumored to be the archbishop’s bastard son, who had inherited the title and wealth of his adopted parents, and was already making a name for himself among the Temple Knights.
Estinien had studiously avoided the man, and Aymeric never had a chance to collect on the drink Estinien owed him for his lifesaving arrow. He's better off without friends anyways. He has more important things to focus on, friendships will only make his quest for revenge more difficult.
“Shall we sit and become acquainted?” Aymeric asks, giving him a comforting smile, although it does little to settle Estinien's nerves.
He nods and drops onto the cushions, Aymeric sitting a respectful distance from him. Alberic leaves the room with Aymeric's servant, the two of them now alone. Estinien is unsure what to say, and opts for staring at the Borel crest on the wallpaper. It’s a bit uncomfortable to be alone with Aymeric when they are meant to be wed soon.
“How do you take your tea?” Aymeric asks as he pours the steaming liquid into two delicate blue teacups.
He's always preferred coffee; tea tastes too weak to him. Caffeine helps him get out of bed in the morning. “Just with sugar, I guess.”
Aymeric adds a few sugar cubes to Estinien's cup and passes it over before adding an excessive amount of birch syrup to his own.
“Our prior meeting was rather unorthodox, so I suppose I should properly introduce myself now. I am Aymeric de Borel, one of the captains of the archer unit of the Temple Knights.” Aymeric takes a long sip of his tea, which prompts Estinien to try his own. It tastes floral and weak.
“Estinien Varlineau. Maybe the next Azure Dragoon,” He grumbles. It's hard not to be annoyed at Aymeric due to their current situation, even if he didn't cause it.
“Estinien, I am aware neither of us want this marriage. But I plan to support you as much as I am able, and ensure you become the Azure Dragoon.” Aymeric is so formal as he drinks his tea; back straight and taking small, polite sips.
“Why? Not like you're getting anything out of this. I can't give you anything.” He's still just a dragoon, a foot soldier in service to the Holy See. He doesn't have wealth or connections, and he won't even warm Aymeric's bed.
Aymeric sighs and looks into his teacup. “Do you know why I was chosen as your husband? I may be the last living member of the Borel household, but I am an adopted one. I was not born a noble. A member of the four high houses would not deign to marry a lowborn, and even the minor houses would balk, but I am of low status, and it was assumed I would be grateful to marry the future Azure Dragoon, despite his birth. I would have difficulty finding a husband of the nobility.”
“So you accepted because you're the only one who's not too good for me?” Estinien can't keep the bitterness from his voice, picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion.
“No, of course not!” Aymeric exclaims quickly as he shakes his head. “I know we have scarce met, but I believe you are the best fit to be the next Azure Dragoon. I do not want you to lose the opportunity for want of a husband. I care not for the circumstances of your birth.”
When Estinien looks up at him and their eyes meet, Aymeric smiles softly in an attempt to soothe his concerns.
“I'm not going to act like your husband, wouldn't you rather marry someone else?” Aymeric is one of the prettiest men he's ever seen, surely he can find himself a proper husband. Estinien might not be interested in romance, but he’s not blind. Even he can tell Aymeric is quite nice to look at.
“I have not met anyone I wish to marry, and I am considered rather old by marriage standards. I believe a marriage with someone I can come to consider a friend would be rather pleasant. I must admit, I find you rather more interesting than many of the men I have met, and I would enjoy getting to know you. Could I not ask you the same question? You could also find a spouse you care for.”
Estinien shrugs and grabs a cookie. “I don't want to get married. I was planning on staying single.” He bites into the cookie, finding chocolate inside. He devours the rest and grabs another.
“Are they good? I made them myself. Have as many as you like.” Aymeric is beaming with pride.
Aymeric bakes? He thought the nobility didn't make their own food. “You made these yourself? They're good.”
“Would you like to take the rest home? I would be happy to know you and Ser Alberic have enjoyed them.” He nudges the tray towards Estinien.
“Sure. Alberic can't bake half as well.” He finishes off his second cookie and considers taking a third, even if it will mean running extra laps tomorrow.
They drink their tea in silence for a few moments before Aymeric speaks. “Estinien, there is another aspect of our betrothal I should mention. I aim to one day become Lord Commander, and change Ishgard for the better. My rise is seen as a threat by those in the church and nobility who are committed to the way we have always done things.” His gaze drifts from Estinien, to the window, before returning to his guest.
“It would benefit them to tie me to you, rather than take the risk that I find a husband who would enhance my status. They could elevate Heustienne to the position of Azure Dragoon, and we would be stuck with each other. ‘Tis terribly unfair, but perhaps if you one day become Azure Dragoon and I am able to obtain the position of Lord Commander, things will change. Those who are not born into the nobility will have more avenues open to them.”
Estinien takes a few seconds to digest Aymeric's words. “You actually want to change how the Temple Knights are run? But if you can manage to become Lord Commander, you'll have my support.”
“Thank you. I hope we shall both achieve our goals someday.” Aymeric finishes his tea and pours himself another cup, looking more at ease.
Estinien is content to pass the time in silence, and Aymeric doesn't see fit to break it until the hour grows close for Estinien to depart.
“Estinien, do you still wish to be betrothed? We could claim fundamental differences prevent us from being married. ‘Tis not too late.”
He shakes his head at the prospect. “I need a husband to ‘keep me in line’ and put me down in case I can't handle Nidhogg's power. Your kind doesn't trust lowborns after what happened with Alberic. I'd rather have you than some pompous asshole.”
His words evoke a laugh from Aymeric. “I am glad you do not think me one of them. I shall have to officially announce our betrothal, and procure rings for us. It shall take a few moons to plan the wedding, would you like to be involved in the decisions?”
“Nope. I don't care about flowers or rings. You can pick everything.” He makes a face at the thought of having to exchange vows in front of what will likely be hundreds of people.
“Allow me at least to gain your approval before I make any major decisions. I hope you can enjoy our wedding.”
Estinien nods as he climbs to his feet. “Is that all?”
“Yes. Thank you for your time, Estinien. The announcement of our betrothal shall be made shortly.” Aymeric leads him to the front door, where Alberic is waiting.
They retrieve their coats and head back into the cold, Alberic managing to slowly pry details out of Estinien as they walk.
“I think it'll work out. I wouldn't have let you agree to a betrothal if he was awful. At least he's okay with you two just being friends.”
Alberic gives him an encouraging smile as they arrive home, and Estinien retreats to his room. He needs his rest when the near future promises to be chaotic.
Estinien assumed their betrothal would be announced immediately, but Aymeric instead invites him over for tea several days later, with no betrothal in sight.
He's led to the sitting room again, greeted by a smile, and thankfully no kiss to the back of his hand.
“Welcome, Estinien. I thought it prudent we get to know each other better before becoming betrothed. Would that be agreeable? We can still decide not to proceed with our marriage.”
“Sure.” He sinks into the couch next to Aymeric, the man pouring a cup of tea for him. He'll choke it down despite his dislike; he's not comfortable enough with Aymeric to say anything.
“Wonderful. Shall I tell you about myself, and you may do the same?” Aymeric hands him a teacake, taking one for himself.
“As you know, I am Aymeric de Borel. I am the heir and only remaining member of my family. My foster parents were elderly when they adopted me, and passed close to each other several summers ago. I'm sure they would have liked you.”
That's rather high praise when they barely know each other. Estinien doubts an old, rich, noble couple would like him; hopefully Aymeric's parents aren't looking down from Halone’s halls and wishing misfortune upon him for not being good enough for their son.
“Uh, I've been living with Alberic since I was twelve. He's been training me to be the Azure Dragoon.” He refuses to talk about Ferndale, not when the wound feels so fresh no matter how many years pass.
Aymeric is polite enough not to ask any further questions. Maybe he doesn't want Estinien asking about his own family and wondering why he was adopted by the Borels. He's probably an orphan if the rumors about the archbishop are false, same as Estinien. A luckier one, to be adopted by nobles.
“Is there anything you like to do, Estinien?” Aymeric asks as he adds sugar to his tea.
“I train. That's mostly it.” Estinien assumes that’s enough of an answer, but Aymeric is still staring at him, expecting more.
“...I guess I also like whittling and doing stuff outdoors.” He can't think of anything else, not when most of his waking hours are spent endlessly honing his skills to better slay dragons.
Aymeric simply nods at his rather pathetic answer. “If you'd like, I could join you in your training. A matter for another time.”
He waits to see if Estinien asks him something in return, but speaks again when the dragoon remains silent. “May I ask why you avoided me once we returned from our unfortunate patrol?”
Estinien winces slightly. This is a situation of his own making, yet he still dreaded Aymeric ever posing this question. Should he avoid answering? He would if it was anyone else, but if he's to be married to Aymeric, he should tell the truth.
“I figured you were also a lowborn, you didn't act like a noble. I guess I got caught up in killing my first dragon and agreed to get a drink with you. But then I figured out who you were. Maybe you didn't mean it, since most nobles wouldn't want to be seen around me.” Estinien pauses before speaking again; apologies have never come easy to him. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have avoided you.”
He doesn't add that he had been consumed with memories of the death of his family, that he had clung to companionship to drive away the darkness. When he had almost joined his family in death, he had resisted, but a part of him had yearned for it. Aymeric had reminded him that he was still alive, that he must take his revenge before he falls.
“Well, you did remember my name, so I shall forgive you. But I do not care for status. As I said upon our last meeting, the circumstances of your birth do not matter to me. I care much more about character. You demonstrated great bravery and perseverance in hunting the dragon despite your injury.”
Aymeric notices that his guest has finished his teacake and hands over another, refilling Estinien's teacup before speaking again. “I admire your behavior. I never thought of hunting the dragon by my lonesome, yet you set off as soon as I roused you. I know of precious few nobles who would do the same. I am sure you would have killed the dragon without my help were you not injured. As soon as my arrow gave you a chance, you took it. That already makes you an excellent candidate for the position of Azure Dragoon.”
Oh. Estinien isn't sure how to respond to that. He thought Aymeric was just being nice by saying he deserved to be Azure Dragoon when they met the other day, but for the man to earnestly admire and compliment him?
“Thanks,” He tells Aymeric, speaking into his teacup to hide his embarrassment. This isn't what he expected from his future husband. He's so kind and open, and it seems genuine. Aymeric is far from what he expects from the nobility.
“I must also thank you. We had recently lost one of the archer captains, and my help in slaying the dragon led to my promotion. If you had not chosen to pursue the dragon and I had returned to Ishgard, the position would have likely been granted to another.”
He did it for himself, not for Aymeric, but he supposes it's a blessing Aymeric benefited from it if they are to be married.
Aymeric soon moves on, instead telling Estinien about a recent patrol he embarked on with the men under his command. Estinien adds that he's killed his second dragon, with help from Alberic.
Their tea together is less stiff and awkward than it was a few days ago, although Estinien still talks much less than Aymeric does. He's content merely to listen. Aymeric has a nice voice, strong and rich.
They've sadly run out of teacakes, and Estinien drinks the last few sips of his tea. It still tastes disappointing.
“Shall I announce our betrothal on the morrow?” Aymeric asks as he sets their empty cups on the tea tray. “I fear this is your last chance to change your mind. If you are content to be wed, I am happy to follow your decision.”
This meeting hasn't changed his mind; Estinien is still determined to marry Aymeric if it gives him a chance to become Azure Dragoon. Nothing will hold him back.
“Announce it. As long as you aren't having second thoughts.”
Aymeric shakes his head. “No, I am committed to marriage if we may both benefit, and it appears we get along rather well. Thank you, Estinien.”
“For what? Agreeing to marry you?”
“Yes, but also for even considering such an offer. I had feared you would refuse as soon as you were told you must marry me to have a chance to become Azure Dragoon. Yet you were willing to meet with me and proceed with marriage. Thank you for allowing me to pursue my dreams, even if you are doing this to chase your own.”
“You're welcome.” He's uncomfortable with such effusive praise, but it's easier to just accept it and move on than argue.
Aymeric walks him to the door and hands him his coat, and Estinien takes a deep breath before making a suggestion. “Can we do something besides drink tea next time? I'd much rather spar or go drinking.”
He pulls a soft laugh from Aymeric, who nods. “Yes, that can be arranged. We may do whatever you would enjoy.”
Aymeric bids him goodbye, and Estinien watches him wave from the doorway until he rounds the corner.
Well, that wasn't as bad as he imagined it would be. Maybe there's hope for their marriage after all.
When Estinien drags himself downstairs for breakfast the next morning, Alberic already has a cup of black coffee and a plate of eggs for him.
He tiredly mumbles his thanks as he sinks into his chair and begins to eat, stifling a yawn before he starts downing his coffee.
“You're going to need your energy for today. Aymeric announced you two are engaged, I’m sure the news has spread from the nobility to everyone else by now.”
Estinien groans at the thought of all the attention that will surely be focused on him. Nobles marrying each other isn't big news to anyone but the other nobles, but the man rumored to be Thordan’s son announcing an engagement to a lowborn in line to be the next Azure Dragoon will raise eyebrows.
“Go get dressed after you eat and let's get to training. You'll be fine, I'll make sure no one messes with you.” Alberic pats him on the back as his foster father goes to put on his armor.
Estinien reluctantly follows Alberic to meet the rest of the dragoons once he's ready. He always tries to interact with them as little as possible, he doesn't need attachments holding him back. Many of them, possibly including him, will likely be dead several summers from now.
Estinien ignores a few stares as he approaches a training dummy, ready to strike when he feels a hand on his shoulder.
He spins around to find Heustienne looking up at him, opening her mouth to speak.
“I don't want to talk about the engagement or the wedding. Ask Aymeric about it,” He spits out, defensive.
Heustienne blinks and pulls her hand away. “I was going to ask if you wanted to spar. Shall I leave you alone?”
“No, it's fine. Sorry. Let's just get started.” Estinien follows her to an open part of the room, and they prepare themselves to leap at each other.
Heustienne is his only true competition for the position of Azure Dragoon, the only one who threatens what he's spent more than a decade working for. They're rivals, but Estinien won't pass up a chance to improve his skills by testing them against her.
On his signal, they dart forward, weapons clashing. Estinien is stronger, but he's learned not to underestimate Heustienne.
They strike at each other over and over, neither managing to maintain the upper hand for long.
Finally, once they've both grown tired, Estinien manages to sweep Heustienne’s feet from under her. He holds the dull point of his practice lance to her throat, and she yields.
He wipes the sweat from his forehead as Heustienne climbs to her feet and gives him a begrudging nod, acknowledging his victory.
She lingers, and Estinien looks up to ask if she needs something.
“About your engagement…congratulations. It's hard feeling like you don't belong with nobles, but Aymeric seems like a good man. I pray you two will be happy together.”
“….Thanks.” Estinien fumbles for the correct response to her earnest words. It's easy to forget that despite her title, Heustienne is a lowborn orphan, just like him. He briefly wonders if she faces the same problem as Aymeric when it comes to finding a spouse, that the nobility think themselves too good for her.
“I'll see you at the engagement party.” Heustienne spares him from further musings as she leaves to conduct her training, reminding Estinien he should do the same. He can't let anything distract him from his goal, not even his upcoming marriage. Nothing is more important than his revenge.