You look up at the sky. It's such a peaceful day for Coerthas. The sun peeks from the drifting clouds, shines almost heavenly; Unlike other days where the snow falls like it can murder someone with its intense cold and amount. As you sit and your back relaxed against a pine tree, your eyes caught a silhouette you love so much. The figure walks towards you with a grin so gleeful, it practically beams in your eyes.
"How fares you, my dear?"
Oh you could kill anything to hear that voice play in your ears. All day long. Forever. You hummed while nodding softly. A smile creeps to your lips.
Again, the man beams. This time he could even compete with the sun. You feel like you want to shield your eyes from the raw shine, but that would be over-exaggerating things, just like what he would do. You put one of your hands onto the belly, rubbing the swell slowly, savouring all the bumps containing the proof of your love to him.
The baby moves.
Your eyes glittered. Your hands halted their movements. If heavens are on Eorzea, you are in one of them now. You looked up to him and saw his gaze stuck at your stomach, his hopes and dreams residing within you. He sat beside you and rests his hand atop yours, his head leaning towards you.
You could not wish for a moment better than this.
Alas, you could not indulge more into the blissful time as your stomach yelled out a grumble, yearning to be filled.
"Honey." You muttered as you look up to him. "I've always wondered…"
He examines your face carefully. His eyes appear half-lid while he noses your temple. "What is it?"
"…What does Gorgimera taste like?"
You can almost see him stiffen.
"What to do, Francel?" cries Haurchefant. His head slumped on the table, together with his broad shoulder. Meanwhile, from across the table, Francel puts on a thinking face. Their drinks are left untouched, mostly because of Haurchefant's endless banter on his partner's strange craving for Gorgimera's flesh. "How can I possibly fetch a Gorgimera, much less the meat?"
"It's only a craving. You don't have to accomplish it if it's impossible," tells Francel calmly while he sips his green tea.
"B-But…" Haurchefant pouts his lips. He know he can do it, but doubt clouds his mind to no end. He has man power to spend, although the safety of the said meat is highly questionable, and to give it to his beloved under that conditions has never cross his mind, not even the least. "This is the first craving from my dear. I don't want to overlook this easily."
Francel settles his teacup on the table. His lips escape a sigh. "I'll see what I can find."
The silver-haired Elezen nearly leap across the table to hug Francel if not thinking of their location at the café. Hence, he only grabs his best friend's hand and clasped it tightly. His prayers and hopes encased in the connected hands. "I love you, Francel!"
"Where are you going?" asks you as you stare at Haurchefant, complete in his hunting outfit.
"As you can see," he pulls out a Fortemps shield and examines it for the last time, "I am getting ready to go out hunting."
You cock you brow ever so apparent, wishing he could see your puzzled face. "Out of the blue?"
He laughs at your expression and puts down the shield to walk towards you and hold you in his arms. "You said you wanted to have Gorgimera meat. Now I'm being a responsible father for our child and find one."
"Will you be alone?" Worry clearly envelop your tone. Gorgimera, or Gorgi-senpai as you call him, is as savage as a lesser Odin primal, just with more variety of animal kingdom in one body.
"No, no. Of course not." He tries hard to blow away your worry. "Artoirel and Corentiaux are coming with me. Yaelle too. A lot of people want to come help me once they know of your craving."
You look down. That's kind of embarassing. The Warrior of Light's taste in dish is as weird as the choice of opponent; Weird enough when you can see some of your enemies on your plate with a mouth stuffed with tomato. Why does the baby want Gorgimera, out of all the foes in the world?
"I'm setting off now. Do take care of yourself while I'm gone." He kisses your forehead, long, and you close your eyes as you enjoy the moment.
You are going to miss him so much.
A campfire is set at the cave. Several simple tents are build from the skillful hands of Haurchefant's right hand man, Corentiaux. After the night sets in, they all sit in a group and set a nightwatcher shifts to each of them.
"What is your plan after we get to kill it, Francel?" Haurchefant gives a level stare to the blonde lordling that has his face plastered to a book. He was still unperturbed with the question until Haurchefant nudges him at his rib.
"Plans," Haurchefant repeats.
Francel takes out a small notebook out of his red backpack. He studies it for a moment before speaking it out loud so the whole camp can hear him.
"The ancestor of Gorgimera, in ancient times, is perceived as one of the Warring Gods, and was powerful thanks to his strong believers. Until one day it lays down with a creature on earth, and henceforth created numerous offspring almost as strong as him." He flips a page in his notebook and continues reading. "According to people's rumor, no one has ever tried to cook Gorgimera, but if someone were to rely on the understanding of ecology, Gorgimera would certainly be edible. Suffice to say the theory of eating habit would suggest that since Gorgimera isn't picky, his meat would give a unique taste to the tongue albeit certainly not tender." Francel closes his book and lifts his head from it. "So if we want to cook it, we have to make sure it is not poisonous for human consumption. For that, I've searched for an expert Culinarian and Alchemist, and now they're waiting for my orders in Skyfire Locks."
After explaining what he thinks is necessary, Francel steals a glance at everyone in the camp, and lastly his gaze settles at Haurchefant…
…Who are nodding off, nearly asleep.
You heard hurried knocks on the front door, and with very lazy steps, plus with the weight on your stomach, you move very slowly to the entrance. Once you opened the door, you saw Artoirel's and Francel's faces equipped with an expression of agony. You almost ask them about what is the matter until your mind registered the possible outcome.
Where is Haurchefant? , you thought. You look at Artoirel, however he keep avoiding your eyes, whilst holding in a sob. You later look at Francel, who is now in tears. He shook his head slowly. His hand quickly covered the rest of the cry.
You stand there quietly.
Your eyes snap open to reveal a sight of the stone ceiling. You are breathing hard it seems, and the gleaming tears at the corner of your eyes made the dream just now even more surreal. While you're busy composing yourself, you heard some furious footsteps coming upstairs, to your and Haurchefant's room, and the door creaks open. Tataru walks in and jumps onto the bed.
"Are you okay, darling?"
You wanted to say you're fine, but your looks betray you. Disheveled, panting, worried. You later hugged Tataru as strong as you can, and cries twice as hard. Tataru pats your back lovingly. "Don't worry. He'll be okay…"
That night, you fall asleep with Tataru in your arms.
"Where will he spawn?" ask Corentiaux.
"Spawn? What do you think this is, video game?" Artoirel jests with a scoff, although Corentiaux doesn’t take it kindly.
"Yes, spawn, milord. We will need to trigger something to lure Gorgimera out, since he's one of the well-known fell beasts."
Haurchefant thinks for a while before he saw someone shouting for help outside of Camp Bluefog. "How about we help some people while we wait for it to reveal itself?"
Corentiaux is struck stupid with his lord's request, but he keeps convincing himself that he doesn’t know any better than his master. Thus, it's best to follow the flow for now. "No tracks of Gorgimera yet, Lord Francel?"
The Haillenarte lord shakes his head. Corentiaux sighs.
"I guess we'll go help some people then…"
Almost a day has passed. Haurchefant's troops nearly fall exhausted. The people in Camp Bluefog and Ceruleum Processing Plant really know how to slave-drive, in return for a handsome reward. Haurchefant and Artoirel however aren't going for the money, since the both of them are already sickly rich on their own. Both of their rewards goes directly to the camp's fund.
"My lords!" yells one of Haurchefant's men. "It's Gorgimera!"
Their heads turn to the direction. A grim figure in the shape of lion, dragon and ram combined in a lion-esque body with wings attached, appears in the blue gloom of the area just north of the camp. Haurchefant draws his sword.
"Everyone, en guard!"
With one shout, everybody's stamina come back in a blink. It is known as one of Haurchefant's many talents. His war cry can channel strength into one's body with a snap of the finger. Even Artoirel's body follows his orders without second thought.
The Gorgimera is now standing before them, teeth seething out steams from most probably frustration from the pollution created by the Garleans. Seconds after, it roars. The Ishgardians steel themselves, awaiting orders from their leader.
You wake up from the bed carefully, minding every step since it's now holding two bodies that Haurchefant favors. You slip in the fluffy slippers your husband bought for you, in order not to crack your heels because of the weight and cold floor. Slowly you stride to the kitchen.
For an eight-months old baby, this one can really swallow food like the dad.
You stuff yourselves with pieces of bread and a bowl of mushroom soup, but your mind flew elsewhere. It is busy thinking about your one and only beloved man. Suddenly you feel very sad and lonely. Tears flow silently on your cheeks.
If the next craving means he has to be away like this again, you'd be better off tucking it deep inside your heart. You can still live with no food, you can even hunt anything just across the road, but you definitely cannot live without Haurchefant.
You stop munching.
The troop was about to go back to Central Highlands when Haurchefant got a linkpearl call from Tataru. Everyone has finished packing up and are ready to leave Northern Thanalan, but during the roll call, Yaelle realizes that Haurchefant is not in the crowd. She walks up to Artoirel to ask him about his brother.
"Oh, pay no mind to him. He already left with the meat and Francel, so we can go on ahead."
She is baffled for a moment before asking, "When?"
"You did not see him leave? He scurried away like a cockroach just now. I bet the call has something to do with the Warrior of Light."
Immediately Yaelle understands.
The door flings open, and at the door frame, stands someone you love so much. You run from the kitchen to the door in an instant, nearly toppling down Haurchefant with your hug. The silver-haired Elezen is astonished by the sudden death-grip embrace but later hugs you back with all his might.
"I miss you." You mumbled, voice muffled from in between his clothes and the sob earlier. He holds up your jaw and peppers kisses on your face, and after that continuing the hug. At the side, Francel only watches quietly while he prays that the alchemist and culinarian can come to Haurchefant's house soon so he would not feel as much as a third wheel in the house. It's almost five minutes of nothing but hugs and kisses at the front door, and only later that you saw Francel standing behind Haurchefant, face colored with his red sheepish hue. "Oh, hi Francel!"
He nods and waves out slightly, his other hand rubs his neck. "H-Hi…"
The three of you finally step into the house and feel the warmth of a home, in contrast of the chill air outside. Not long after that, the culinarian and alchemist arrive at your house and started to prepare the meat of your dreams.
"Haurchefant?" calls you before he's off to take a bath after two days of camping outside.
"Yes, my dear?"
You hug him again, this time more softly and loving, and less desperation and wanting. "Next time I won't crave for anything crazy again." He chuckled at your statement and only reply by caressing your hair.
"I rather miss an adventure like this," answers him. You look up to him. Rather than an exasperated face, you see him grinning like a kid. "Do tell me your next craving. I'll hunt them down to the ends of the earth."
With every breath from there on, you feel like you're breathing in love from him. You touch your lips onto his for a good few seconds before commenting on his mouth, "Don't spoil me too much." Your lips part and he rests his forehead on yours.
"I'll spoil you rotten."
A week later…
"What is it, hun?"
"What does moogle taste like?"