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“You know, one of the extra rooms was set up for Estinien.”
Y’shtola’s voice rouses Emryth from her thoughts. “A room?” she asks, turning to look at her friend with a slight frown as she pushes her dark hair back from her face. She stands from where she’d been leaning forward on the parapet overlooking Mor Dhona and turns instead to recline against it, watching Y’shtola where she sits at their table. They had stepped away for some fresh air and tea but had settled into a comfortable silence after a short while, as was usual of them, and Emryth had taken the opportunity to stretch her legs and watch the people down below.
Y’shtola smiles slightly, leaning back in her chair with her arms folded across her chest. “At the Rising Stones,” she says, cocking her head to the side as she regards Emryth with a slight smile. “It will make things more convenient for him, would it not? As he has decided to join us, Tataru thought it would be prudent to give him his own room should he choose to reside here for the time being.”
When Krile asked Estinien if he would stay with them, if he would fight with them, there was a brief moment where Emryth thought he might refuse. For as long as they have known Estinien he has always seemed to prefer working on his own, a lone wolf, as Aymeric likes to tease, but his time assisting the Scions seemed to change that. She remembers her breath catching in her throat at that moment, wondering if he would pull away when she - when they needed him the most.
“That is… definitely prudent, as you put it,” Emryth says after a moment, fighting down the sudden wave of emotion that rises in her chest. “I’m almost surprised he agreed to it, but both Tataru and Krile seem to have their methods of getting him to follow their… guidance.”
“Indeed,” Y’shtola replies, continuing to watch Emryth with her little smile. The corners of Y’shtola’s mouth twitch up further and Emryth feels her cheeks starting to burn at the mischief she sees in that smile. “You must be glad to know that he’ll be spending more time with us.”
Emryth takes a moment to be relieved that no one else is around to witness the flush of color that spreads across her cheeks. “I’m sure that we all are,” she responds lightly, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible. “He’s a… an important addition to our team. Whatever we have to face as we move forward, I’ll be grateful to have his spear.”
“Ah, yes, I’m sure you’d be very grateful to have his spear. ”
“Y’shtola. ”
Y’shtola’s responding laugh, though at Emryth’s expense, is like music to Emryth’s ears. They have gone through so much through the past few days alone, to see a smile on her friend’s face brings a lightness to her that she has not felt in days. “Don’t tease me, please.” Emryth says, slumping back against the parapet, indifferent to the cool stone as it digs into her back. “I already feel ridiculous about it.” She presses her hands to her cheeks to hide her blush and try to cool her skin.
Her feelings for Estinien are something that she has yet to fully comprehend, and she frankly hasn’t had the time to even try. There’s always something that needs their attention, that needs her attention, so she puts things like that to the side, the little complicated things, in the back of her mind to ponder in the quiet moments she so rarely gets. And her feelings for Estinien are complicated, shining threads of respect and affection and frustration and attraction, all tangled together in an impossible knot that she sometimes tries to untangle while she lies awake at night in her bed.
Y’shtola leans forward on the table and rests her chin in her palm. “There is nothing to feel ridiculous about. I can see how you might be pulled in his direction. The two of you are alike in some ways.”
“Is that so?”
“Mhm. Determined, serious, loyal. Stubborn to a fault.” She winks, pulling a sigh from Emryth. “Though I must say, his temperament is definitely more… abrasive than yours.”
Emryth finds herself smiling at Y’shtola’s observation. “Abrasive. That’s definitely one way to put it.” She pushes away from the stone wall and steps back towards their table, sits back down at the seat across from Y’shtola that she’d previously occupied and leans forward with her elbows on the table. “I am glad he stayed. Not just for myself, but for Alphinaud. He looks up to him so earnestly, and I don’t think Estinien is willing to disappoint him.”
“Agreed,” Y’shtola says. “All the better for us. We are few and his presence will help us greatly.”
Emryth nods silently, looking down at her hands. They are rough, skin dry and cracking, knuckles scarred, a reminder of her duty, of who and what she is. “Part of me doesn’t know what to do with this, knowing that now is not the time to worry about little things like- like attraction, o-or romance.” She feels her face heat again and is too embarrassed by her own words to look up from her hands. “But there is another part of me that is restless, that wishes I could do something about it. That part of me must be particularly selfish considering the state of things.”
Y’shtola doesn’t respond immediately, and there are a few moments of silence that Emryth takes to run the fingers of her left hand over the callouses on her right palm – calluses earned from work with her bow, with her gunblade.
When Y’shtola breaks the silence, her voice lacks the humor from before, and she speaks quietly, seriously. “I would not think you selfish for having feelings for someone that you hold dear, someone who has fought at your side.” She leans forward and takes Emryth’s hands in her own. “My dear friend, even the Warrior of Light deserves that kind of happiness.”
***
She leaves Y’shtola sometime later when the woman says she has some business to attend to, which leaves Emryth to her own devices for the rest of the evening. After days of tension and fear and fighting it is strange to have time to herself without any pressing matters weighing on her shoulders. Krile is in the process of trying to secure their transport and entry into Sharlayan, which leaves the Scions at an impasse. She knows that there is some work being done, that investigations are taking place on the effects of the towers that have appeared all over Eorzea and the rest of the world, but there is no action to take at present. It makes Emryth feel as if she is in limbo, stuck with no outlet for the restless feeling that lurks just under her skin.
Without any other options, she heads back to the Rising Stones thinking that, at the very least, she might get some rest while she is here, while nothing else occupies her time. She cannot remember the last time she had a restful night of sleep since she only seems to be able to rest in short bursts, often waking in the middle of the night from dreams that shake her awake or sometimes from nightmares that leave her feeling shattered.
Her path to her room at the Rising Stones takes her past the doors of the others’ rooms, and she finds herself slowing to a stop outside the door of a room that was previously unoccupied. Emryth’s never been in the room, has never had a reason to enter, and the door to the room has always been closed unless there is a need to use it for guests, but now it’s slightly ajar and light streams through the opening.
Emryth feels that same swelling of emotion beneath her breastbone that she felt during her conversation with Y’shtola earlier in the day. Sometimes it creeps up on her, mixes with the other things she often feels: exhaustion, pain, amusement, anger, and when it does it’s harder to discern from everything else, easier to ignore. But now it hits her full force, especially when she hears movement from within the room. She only hesitates for a moment before she steps forward, abandoning her previous path to her own room, and knocks on the slightly ajar door.
The sound of movement ceases immediately and there’s a stretch of silence before footsteps approach and the door before her is pulled open completely to reveal Estinien inside.
For a moment she blinks up at him without speaking, glances down his body to take in his casual clothing, a light shirt buttoned at the front and pants made of dark leather. His feet are bare. When she looks back up to meet his eyes he is watching her with a raised eyebrow but she can see the amusement in his expression and it makes her smile. “I heard you were given a room, that Tataru insisted on it.”
“Insisted… yes.” He says flatly. “But for once I agreed with their suggestion. While it is not an issue for me to travel, I believed it would make more sense for me to be nearby should you have need of me.”
“That was very logical for them to suggest it,” she says, and rises up on her tiptoes to try and get a glance over his shoulder. Even in her high-heeled boots he’s at least a head taller than she is. “Are you making yourself comfortable then?”
He seems inclined to indulge her curiosity because he snorts quietly before taking a step back to let her see into the room. It’s like all the others, like her own, not overly spacious but big enough for one to rest comfortably. There’s a bed and table at it’s side, storage for weapons and armor and clothing, and a round table off to the side, full of his armor, with two chairs tucked close. The window in the far wall is open and light curtains flutter from the breeze, Emryth can hear the bustle of late evening activity rising up from the street.
And then, to her surprise, Estinien steps back and turns back to the room, leaving her standing in the doorway. There’s a moment where she’s not sure whether this is an opportunity to enter, but then he glances her way, eyebrow raised at her again, and she steps forward, desperately trying to ignore the sudden jolt of anticipation that runs up her spine. She stops at the little table and sits back against the edge, careful not to jostle any of the armor behind her. “Very cozy,” she says with a slight grin. “Will you be decorating?”
Estinien rolls his eyes and turns to the wardrobe. “I am quite satisfied with the room as it is now.” He rifles through whatever is inside for a moment before shutting its door and turns back to Emryth. “Tataru attempted to force decorations upon me earlier, saying that I needed to make it feel like ‘home’, but I insisted that it wasn’t necessary.”
“Is that what this is now?” Emryth says suddenly, surprising herself, unable to stop the words before they spill out of her mouth, “Your home?”
If Estinien is caught off guard by her question, he doesn’t show it. He also doesn’t immediately reply, only watches Emryth with an intensity that wasn’t there before, something like the intensity that was in his voice when he agreed to stay in the first place.
“I don’t mean this room,” she says quietly when he doesn’t immediately offer a reply. “I mean here. With us.”
It’s almost astounding how quickly the energy in the room shifts as Emryth speaks, the way the tension rises in the air, the way the anticipation and restlessness builds inside her. She feels like she could crawl out of her skin at this moment knowing how loaded her question is, knowing how much it reveals of her thoughts to even ask. Taking conversation in this direction wasn’t her intention when he knocked on his door – she’s honestly not sure what her intention was – but now she’s asked a question that she’s afraid for him to answer and there isn’t much she can do to take it back now.
The silence feels deafening and she digs her fingers into the wooden edge of the table, trying to steady herself, ground herself. She’s stupid for asking, for presuming anything about his intentions or what he might desire from this agreement to join them, she can’t believe–
“I meant what I said before,” he says finally, breaking the silence that has settled between them and interrupting her thoughts. He steps away from the wardrobe and closer to her stopping only a short distance away, well within her reach, when he says “That if you have need of me, I’m yours.”
Something within Emryth breaks at his words, something that she’s been trying to hold back for far too long. She pushes herself up from the edge of the table and she’s fairly certain that she’s lost her mind completely, because without another thought she closes the distance between them, fists a hand into the front of Estinien’s shirt, and pulls him down to kiss him soundly.
The kiss tastes like release, relieving pressure that had built up so painfully within Emryth, a pressure that has her wound so tight that she's fit to tear herself apart because of the sensation of it trying to break out of her skin. It has her immediately dizzy, hot all over and impossibly overwhelmed, even more so when Estinien opens his mouth to hers, when she feels the slide of his tongue against her bottom lip.
It only lasts a moment before she breaks the kiss, before the reality of her impulsivity settles in and she pulls back to look at him. Emryth knows her face is flushed, that she’s likely pink all the way down her chest, and her skin where they touch feels like it’s on fire. She feels heat under her fingers where they rest against his chest and she is acutely aware of his hand on her waist.
Estinien’s eyes search Emryth’s as his hands smooth over the curve of her hip, as his fingers dig ever so slightly into the bare skin there. Emryth’s breath hitches in her throat but she’s able to find the words she’s looking for. “Thank you for staying for him. For Alphinaud.” She swallows thickly, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice but completely unable to do so even as she says, firmly, quietly, “Thank you for staying with me when I need you.”
There’s a beat where it feels to Emryth like time has slowed down to a stop, where Estinien only stares at her, eyes wide, where she feels like, once again, that she’s lost her mind completely and that she’s hallucinating this entire situation. But then, with movement too fast for Emryth to even have the chance to anticipate it, Estinien presses against her, pushes her back into the edge of the table, and kisses her roughly. It’s not like the first kiss, which had been impulsive and unexpected, where Emryth had taken the initiative and he had followed her lead. This was like fire, scorching hot and burning Emryth up from the inside out, leaving her breathless as Estinien grabs her hips to lift her up onto the table's edge. She feels more than ready to fall apart for him as he settles himself between her thighs, pushing them apart with his hips, easing her further back on the table, not seeming to care that the shift in position sends pieces of his armor clattering to the floor.
Emryth brings her hands up to his neck as she kisses him, moves them to tangle into his hair and she arches against him. She realizes that she needs this, needs it in a way that she isn’t prepared for despite having been aware of her attraction to him before. Her desire is a dam broken and it pours from her into the kiss, into the way she tries to pull him closer even though he’s already as close as he can physically get.
“Ahem .”
The sound from behind Emryth causes her to jerk back so quickly that she almost topples sideways off the table. The only thing that keeps her from doing so is Estinien’s hand holding onto her thigh to keep it hitched over his hip. She doesn’t even know how they got into this position, gods. It all happened so quickly.
“You know,” Thancred says from the doorway, eyes alight with amusement and with laughter in his voice. “I’m not one to frown upon extra curricular activities, but if you’re going to partake I would suggest maybe closing your door for some privacy?”
Estinien clears his throat roughly and releases Emryth from where he holds her, taking a step back. Emryth, now that she has room, slides off the table and onto her feet.
Thancred turns to leave, but stops short, turning back to Emryth, who is impossibly flushed, and Estinien, whose ears are slightly red. “Y’shtola was looking for you, Emryth. I think she needed your help. Should I let her know that you are… handling something?”
“Oh, fuck off,” she says with a small huff, which only makes Thancred laugh out right. He makes his exit from the doorway with a mock salute and Emryth is well aware that she’s going to have to corral him later and threaten him with bodily harm should he decide to try and gossip. Estinien's hand on her arm pulls her attention away from the door, he seems only slightly flustered now, but the sight makes something flutter in her chest. “Sorry.“
“Don’t apologize. It seems like you’re needed elsewhere?”
“Apparently. I…” Emryth falters slightly, realizing that there’s no uncomfortable tension, no awkwardness that lingers after Thancred’s intrusion. Estinien watches her with the intensity that he always looks at her with, but now there’s something else there she hasn’t seen before and Emryth catches herself smiling before she can stop it. “I should go see what she needs.”
Estinien only nods and pulls out one of the chairs to sit down at the table, moves like he’s refusing to look away from Emryth even for a second. She’s fully aware that she needs to leave before she melts into a puddle of stupid on his bedroom floor.
“You should join us for dinner later,” Emryth says as she walks backwards towards the door, grinning fully at the picture he paints sitting there in his chair, definitely looking like he’s been thoroughly kissed, hair mussed from where she’d run her fingers through it. The satisfaction she feels simmers low in her belly. “Y’shtola mentioned earlier that Urianger offered to cook for us tonight.”
“Ah, and I’m sure that will go very well.”
“Have faith. I’m actually very curious to see how things turn out.”
“Then you are a braver soul than I,” he says with a small smile. “While I appreciate the invitation but I have a few things to take care of this evening and likely won’t be back until the morning, I was actually getting ready when you came to my door.”
“Hmm, I apologize for interrupting so rudely,” Emryth teases. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Goodnight, Emryth,” Estinien says, watching Emryth intently as she finally turns to take her leave.
“Goodnight, Estinien.”