Thanks to the graciousness of Lord Aymeric, the Ishgardian fleet was well on its way to return the Scions home to the Rising Stones. After the battle against the Telophoroi, G’raha and his friends had been left battered and exhausted. The devastation left in their wake reminded him of that of the Sin Eaters, as they had so brought upon many of the towns and villages of the First. He could not help but regret the bittersweet taste of this victory. First, Sharlayan denies aid to Eorzea and its people, and then, they are directly reminded of the sheer destruction the Telophoroi were capable of if left unchecked. It was enough to make anyone's heart tremble, even the Warrior of Light’s.

Still, in spite of their heavy hearts, the Scions were no less quick to rise to the challenge. Even while on the fleet, they all discussed the steps to follow, studying the Telophoroi’s methodology, and the like. Even the young Leveilleurs, whose eyes still betrayed a deep sadness, did not hesitate to throw themselves fully into strategizing. He would have been surprised, had he not already seen the sheer strength of their wills on the First. G’raha could not contain the hope welling in his heart, that soothed his mind and body, at the sight of it. To be here, amongst you all, is a blessing I still struggle to accept, he thought, ever grateful am I to be able to fight at your side.

However, despite the urgent and complex matter at hand, that his awareness of Eithne had not been dimmed in the slightest was an irony that was lost on him. His eyes followed her, always, and so he was immediately aware of Eithne being pulled aside to a quiet corner by none other than the Lord Commander. While G’raha had known of Lord Aymeric’s friendship with Eithne through the history books and retellings, he was nonetheless surprised. Perhaps it was a lack of proper description, or the fact that none of the Warrior of Light’s inner circle penned her history, but the bond between the two appeared to be something far deeper than G’raha could have imagined.

To see her in this state, unable to say a word... His chest tightens with emotion, and his thoughts quicken to understand it, a familiar mixture of nerves and anxiety fueling them. Once again, I couldn’t— His mind, ever eager to alight his darkest fears, speaks of envy, of frustration, but his ears flatten at the thoughts. He can feel his face contorting with a feeling he can only describe as distaste at these feelings. She's beloved by all, rightfully so. No, he would not be so egotistical, so presumptuous, so— He sucks in a breath, willing the whirlwind of thoughts threatening to wreak havoc in his mind to dissipate. This was nothing so selfish as jealousy, as his anxiety would love to lead him to believe, this... vexation stems from a different source. How many times did this make it now, where he had lost his chance to speak to her, when she seemingly needed a friend the most?

Although he thought it improper of himself, although his consciousness berated him, he could not help but strain his ears and steal glances at the pair throughout their conversation. In that darkened corner of the room, they spoke in hushed tones, the Lord Commander’s back to him while Eithne leaned pensively against the wall. His mind wandered, trailing the contours of her face, searching for the answers to a question he'd yet to conceive. Whether it be a trick of the shadows, or the distance between the two, he could not tell, but she appeared so different, her gaze gentle yet forlorn, her shoulders seeming to finally give way under the weight——

“Ah, this is your first time meeting Lord Aymeric, yes?”

Distracted as he was, he did not realize Alphinaud’s presence until now.

“Ah— yes, I always pictured the Ishgardian fleet and its commander to be, um...” G’raha puts a hand to his chin in thought, head tilting slightly, “more reserved, I suppose?”

Alphinaud smiles, though G’raha can see that it is tinged with an exasperation he could not explain. “Normally, you would be correct. Much of Ishgardian culture can be quite taciturn, from our perspective at least.”

With a shrug and a wave of his hand, Alphinaud continues.

“Lord Aymeric, however, has never been one for such traditions. Perhaps you may have also read about his many reforms to Ishgardian law and customs.”

With another tilt of his head, G’raha pauses to remember. “Ah, yes, after the Dragonsong war, he was elected Lord Speaker of the House of Lords...”

“Indeed.” Alphinaud raised a finger, poised to delve deeper into the subject. G’raha had become familiar with these mannerisms by this point, and he always found the explanations to follow to be clear and concise. He felt as if he now truly understood how the boy had reached such high regard within The Studium.

“However, even before his achievements after the war, Lord Aymeric was working hard to bring reform to his beloved Ishgard. Many times was he jeered at and accused by his countrymen of this or that, even as he directly confronted his own father in his bid to end Ishgard’s deep-seated corruption. He was also critical in conveying to dragonkind the determination of Ishgard’s people towards mutual reconciliation.”

Nodding along, G’raha compared Alphinaud’s words to what he had absorbed throughout his studies. All this, he felt he knew, as it aligned with the historical events. Still, the tension in his heart remained. There was something missing...

Sensing no question nor opposition, Alphinaud continued. “Even outside of his official duties, Lord Aymeric has ever been an ally to the Scions.” He pauses, placing a hand on his chest. “Even after my failure with the Crystal Braves, he would continue to respect and trust in my judgment.”

“Likewise, after...” Alphinaud’s voice seems to trail off, as he glances to the side. Following his gaze, G’raha is led back to Eithne and the Lord Commander’s private conversation. In a lower, gentler tone, Alphinaud continued,

“After Lord Haucherfant’s passing, he was ever a rock for our champion." Alphinaud smiles, slightly turning as if to rejoin with whoever he has kept waiting. “I hope you two will grow just as close, for Lord Aymeric is ever a loyal ally and friend.”

After smiling and nodding in agreement, G’raha is left to his thoughts. He recalled the tales of the valiant knight's sacrifice in defense of the Warrior of Light, something he had looked upon with great reverence. Lord Haucherfant, of Camp Dragonhead, dearly beloved by his allies, not least of all his father, given the lengths at which Lord Fortemps spoke of his grief... Interestingly enough, it was a name he seldom heard from the Scions, not least from Eithne herself. I suppose, he thinks, there’s never been much of an opportunity to discuss it. Although it's small, he feels as if he’s come to learn something new about the Warrior of Light— No, not the Warrior of Light... Something new, about Eithne.

Steeling his resolve, he breathes in deeply, before looking back towards the pair. The Lord Commander’s hand had at some point come to rest on her shoulder, his grasp firm, though whatever expression he was making would forever remain a mystery to him. Eithne is smiling weakly, if not a little sheepishly, and he cannot help but note that the vulnerable expression was something he’d rarely seen before. From the corner of his eye, he sees Estinien walking towards the two, his words of greeting loud enough for G’raha to hear.

“Seeing how he is when you return back safely, I suppose you can imagine why I was quick to depart the last time.” Crossing his arms, Estinien sounds almost like he’s smiling, despite his seemingly dour expression. “Let the woman breathe, Aymeric.”

Enough, G’raha, he chides himself. Turning his back to the trio, he returns to the rest of the Scions, steps firm with a newfound resolve.