Chapter Text
"I wonder what it's like up there," Aymeric holds the mug of tea close, his gaze having traveled from the spires of the Pillars upward, heavensward, towards the starlight tearing through the nighttime cloud cover in great swaths.
"On the moon?" Estinien follows his gaze. It's full tonight, glowing through the dark clouds that promise early morning snowfall.
"Any star would do."
"Why don't you focus on clearing time in your schedule to see what the rest of this star is like first? Before bothering with all those other ones up there?"
Aymeric chuckles, but there's that sad smile. Estinien cringes internally. For all the changing for the better he's done in the years since the war's end, he still misspeaks around Aymeric. Still finds ways to dismiss and hurt him.
Still, he tries again.
"I could tell you of the Dragonstar, if you’d like."
"Oh?"
"I dream of it every now and then since…" since Nidhogg, "I spoke to Vrtra about it during my time in Thavnair to confirm the sights and the misplaced longing aren't simply my own guilty fancy. Our warrior has seen glimpses of it as well. Recreated in far stranger ways than dreams for certain but…"
Estinien trails off, unsure how exactly to recount secondhand tales of Omega, the Omicrons, and their own war with the dragons. But then he catches Aymeric's eyes. They're no longer concerned with the sky or his tea but instead seeking Estinien's own with undivided attention.
"Tell me of it, then," he's smiling and it isn't the sad sort anymore. This is good , Estinien thinks and then thinks again on where to begin. He shifts against Aymeric and the other man has to lurch to steady his tea, having lowered his hands to cradle the mug in his lap. The night is cold ( of course it's fucking cold, it's always been cold, you've just been gallavanting in warmer climes for too long) but that is why they have their tea and coats and patio cushions out from storage to line the iron settee in the Borel estate's long-dormant garden.
"It's actually not that different from Dravania now that I think about it... but I'm sure that's why they ended up taking refuge there."
"And Meracydia," Aymeric supplies.
"Never been."
"Me neither," a quick sip of tea, "So, I gather it's mountainous?"
"Dizzyingly mountainous. There are jagged peaks as far as the eye can see, everything below choked in mist. The winds and mountain air are brutally cold, but invigorating. The dreams never last long, but it's as if I wake with fresh air in my lungs whenever I have them. "
"That brings Sohr Khai to mind for me. For much of our trial there it felt impossible to breathe but, after acclimating, I was the most alive I had ever felt. Returning to Ishgard afterwards was like diving deep underwater. Even though it was good to be home, it crushed the wind from my chest."
Aymeric leans away from Estinien and into his tea even though it cannot be warm anymore with how long they've been out.
"Does it feel like that for you too?" He asks of his mug, "Every time you return here?"
Estinien doesn't know what to say to that. Aymeric is content to continue, attention returning to the sky above.
"Strange that during the war, even though we had no idea it was their home world, our astrologians could use the Dragonstar to divine the horde's movements. As if eons later, that distant land is still a part of every dragon, guiding them. And a part of you now, if only in your dreams."
Before he can shame himself out of the notion Estinien rests a hand over Aymeric's, lacing his fingers within the ones that still cradle the mug of cooled tea. Their fingers are the same size and length- though time in the sun has returned to him his shepherd's tan from before the calamity while Aymeric sports stubborn ink stains hiding around the nailbeds. The ceramic is cold but together, their hands are warm.
"As much as Ishgard is a part of me as well, no matter how far I travel or for how long."
It's Aymeric's turn to be speechless now, though his expression assures Estinien that he has finally said something right tonight.
The new distance between them, between Ishgard and that long dead star, suddenly does not feel so distant.
Estinien closes his eyes and just like in his sleep, he makes a leap. And where the wind would rush to meet him in those dreams, Aymeric's lips meet him in the here and now- cold and exhilarating, and there is no place in existence he would rather be.