Despite his time as the Exarch, and all of the rich tapestry of experiences it had afforded him, he felt wholly unprepared for the banquet the former count had invited the Scions to. He had recalled his diplomatic visits to Eulmore, those plush woolen carpets, the twinkle of the chandeliers— excess enough to make him wretch, as he saw the starving masses from their balconies. Suffice it to say, he had no pleasant associations with nobility and their customs, even as he knew that their Ishgardian friends carried nothing but love in their hearts for Eorzea’s Champion.

Worry not, my dear guests, he had written in his missive, it shall be a private affair, a humble show of gratitude for your service to this star.

Indeed, despite his fears, it had been as much as the nobleman had promised, although G’raha could tell he had spared no expense despite its conceptual simplicity. The finest hors d'oeuvres graced their tables, while their perfectly groomed waitstaff deftly replaced their beverages before they could realize they had finished them. He had been inspecting the charcuterie with Alphinaud, as he eloquently described the ingredients and taste of each perplexing selection with rose-tinted nostalgia. Each loving soliloquy on the pâté on offer, the wistful sighs at the terrine, served to remind him of the young elezen’s true upbringing, the vast seas between his cursed Allagan blood and Alphinaud’s storied and treasured name.

A simple man at heart, G’raha Tia would nod along in vague curiosity, as he endeavored to graze almost exclusively from the sausages and canapés.

In truth, there was little information his mind could absorb at the moment, as they awaited the guest of honor with baited breath. Alphinaud had brought to him a white lily boutonnière when he had arrived, a knowing smile on his lips as he affixed it to his lapel.

“Alisaie asked me to give it to you.” He said casually, as G’raha Tia noticed the distinct absence of any similar accessory on anyone else. “She said she had some sort of plan— harmless I'm sure.”

Harmless, he thought with unease, as he remembered the various “lessons” she had imparted upon him on the days leading up to their visit. The Ishgardian customs he need follow, the basic steps while dancing...

The sound of someone clearing their throat pulls G’raha Tia away from his thoughts, Alphinaud already greeting the man behind him. He flusters, seeking to place the half eaten canape in his hand anywhere else, once he sees that it is Edmont smiling at them both.

“C-Count Edmont...!” He says, already regretting his first gaffe of the night, the current master of the home across the room from them and speaking around their grand piano.

“Former count—” Edmont speaks warmly, and G’raha Tia realizes that the man’s words within the Heavensward, kind and uplifting, could not compare to listening to him in the flesh. “There is no need for formalities, please, make yourselves at home.”

Beside him he can hear Alphinaud’s quiet chuckle, doubtlessly at his expense.

“We were all quite excited to visit Ishgard as a group. I believe this is your first time meeting our newest member—” Alphinaud motions to G’raha Tia, whose hands had already begun to fiddle with the cuff links that Thancred had let him borrow. “G’raha Tia, Sharlayan archon and dearest friend, he has saved us and our hero more times than we can count—”

“No, no, it's been nothing so grand—”

“Ah, G’raha Tia.” The former count speaks as if with newfound knowledge, and G’raha feels a tell-tale shiver run up his spine. “Of course, Eithne has made mention of you many times in her letters.”

Oh gods, she has?

He attempts to straighten himself and give a proper greeting, just as Alisaie had taught him. A short bow, hand held gently over his heart. “It is a pleasure, Edmont. I have read your work, the Heavensward, and it is one of my favorites.”

—————————

The sunroom was quiet and dark, their air chilled from the lack of people or hearth. He saw her silhouetted against the glass wall, Ishgard’s cliffs dipping to reveal twinkling midnight skies, her white hair catching the moonlight, revealing touches of pale gold he’d rarely see in the sunlight. The din of the banquet seemed to grow to near silence as he closed the door behind him, only the soft thud of his footsteps on varnished, wooden floors filling the air.

“Would you mind if I joined you, my friend?” He says quietly, gently, as he stands beside her. It seems the celebrations had worn them down both. She gives a quiet Mmm. in acknowledgement, her eyes never leaving the stars, each distant world reflecting myriad colors in her eyes.

He should stay silent, allow them both the ability to rest their hearts and ears, but he simply can’t help himself—

“House du Fortemps is truly a second home to you, isn’t it. It gladdens me to see how much love they hold for you.” He looks away from her, tries to trace each visible constellation in his mind’s eye. He tries to keep his tone light, friendly, despite the curiosity burning within him. “Forgive me, you don’t have to answer, but I couldn’t help but wonder about your childhood...”

“There is nothing to say, House du Fortemps is my only home.” The words are like chilled Ishgardian steel, and G’raha Tia feels as if he has stepped right into the sharp side of it. He notices her ears twitch slightly, flickering with an emotion he felt must be frustration. “Seeing as I was ex-communicated.”

Right, she was a Viera outside the village jungles, why hadn’t he been more considerate...! “I-I apologize, I should’ve—”

“No— I didn’t—” She seems to melt a little at his voice, had I sounded so pitiful? Her gaze finally meets his, her tired smile tugging sharply at his heart. “It’s, ah— A bit of a sore spot for me... Nothing you need apologize for...”

His shoulders feel so heavy, as he begins to fiddle with his cufflinks again.

“It was similarly lively and warm, at least when I was young.” She continues, after a time, the edge in her voice giving way to what he could only describe as nostalgia.

G’raha tries to imagine it, a young Eithne surrounded by laughter and love. He thinks of his own childhood in Corvos, struggling to relate the words warm and lively to it. In his memories he hears the distant rumble of children, shrill voices trying to find the cracks in his armor, digging deep under the skin of that red-eyed—

“Certainly not luxurious in the least; we were a small, self-sustaining village. Still, Edmont has much in common with her... With my birth mother, that is.”

“I see... She must have been quite imposing then.” He tries to laugh a little and relieve some of the tension. He thinks of Edmont’s calm demeanor, the quiet confidence infused in his every step. Yet in his eyes he found nothing but kindness, despite what the severe line of his lips might lead you to believe.

“My village in the Twelveswood, its culture had some similarities to Ishgard’s.” G’raha begins to nod, bringing a hand to his chin as he takes in the information. Interesting, he thinks, though I suppose Viera are known to be quite devoted to—

“The Black Shroud...?!” His eyes widen, tail alert with surprise. She brings a finger to her lips, a coy smile he would rarely see curving the corners of it, and he feels his heart tremble.

“I haven’t told anyone, so pray keep it between us.” She giggles, and he stammers out his own laugh, if only to disguise his reddening cheeks. “I doubt many outside the Padjal and the Sylph would know of its existence.”

“R-Right, o-of course...” A secret, shared with no one else but him. “And what is—”

“I feel as if they are not so different from the Viis, back on the First.” She speaks quickly, seemingly expecting his question. “It is where it felt most at h— er, familiar.”

“Fascinating.” He sighs in contentment, looking back at the snowy Coerthan peaks. “Thank you for sharing this with me, my friend. Trust that it shall not leave this room.”

“I always trust you.”

It is Alisaie, who lets the din of the banquet back into the soundscape, the door opening just as the piano begins to crescendo alongside its new flute companion. G’raha has scarcely a moment to process Eithne’s final words when Alisaie bounds across the room, grabbing both their arms.

“Oh no you don’t, you two will not hide away from the festivities this time...!”