thefeywood | why don't you figure my heart out?

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why don't you figure my heart out?

master post for homoerotic subtext (and a cat)

➤ AU Info Dump

01. Aymeric nearly gets eaten by a dragon, good thing Estinien is there. Then they get piss drunk a month later, the truest form of friendship.
02. Going to a party and subsequently missing most of the party, only to get kicked out and have Feelings. Cameo by the cat.
03. Estinien recovers from his recent dragon battle and is clearly suffering from PTSD, but Ishgard is ill-equipped to deal with it. Aymeric tries, though. Also totally platonic cuddling. (Cat is suspicious.)

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There's a sort of resignation in Estinien's posture that makes Aymeric's heart ache, yet he focuses on the task at hand. Clemency is more akin to an all over spell, quick and encompassing all the pains that it can in one go. He is not really able to direct or control it to particular areas as someone more versed in the field of healing magicks might, but he tries all the same. Aether manipulation is, in many ways, asserting ones will--he believes his intent and desire to fix what he can should be palpable.

It's the same motion as before--gathering the aether into his hand and allowing it to wash over the other man. He manages two more casts before he is spent and exhales long and low. There is a part of him that wants to map out those wounds with his fingers, as if touch alone could will them away. But he wisely keeps that to himself, knowing that it would be a line he definitely ought not to cross. Especially given what they should be concentrating on.

He nods as he takes a step back. "I hope...that will suffice for now."

Estinien closes his eyes, exhaling slowly as he feels Aymeric's magic flood through him again. He's no stranger to receiving healing magic, often having been treated by the Ishgardian Hospialitiers, who were objectively more skilled and potent at the craft than Aymeric. Yet, their touch has never made him shiver the way that Aymeric's does, knowing where the power comes from, and the will behind its effects.

He stares back at Aymeric as he pulls away, still feeling the tingle of aches relieved. It's more than he could have hoped for, he thinks. The healing, at first thought, and then more generally, Aymeric's presence at all. He's still here, he thinks for the dozenth time. He didn't leave, and they are going into this fight together. Yet, Aymeric's own will isn't the only way he could lose him from this.

They could wind up imprisoned, or executed. Though generally frowned upon, there is also little stopping one of them from ending up dead on the Tribunal floor. He doesn't trust that the Durendaires would hold back any more than they had to. For all he knows, this could be the last private moment they were ever allowed together.

Again, Estinien opens his mouth like he wants to speak, but nothing comes out. Finally, he lifts his hand, resting it on Aymeric's bicep, and then sliding down to squeeze at his forearm. In one, impulsive motion, he pulls Aymeric forward, wrapping his other arm around his back and holding him close. He has no idea what any of it means, but it's a raw feeling of need that he can't bear to resist.

Edited 2020-12-08 00:17 (UTC)

Aymeric never expects acknowledgment or reciprocation, not in the ways that some might for the little things that he does. Estinien shows that he cares in his own way and Aymeric has long since abandoned the fears that his presence or friendship are unwanted. In this, perhaps their darkest hour yet, his faith is based solely on their skills and strength of conviction--in their mission and in each other.

Yet there is a part of him that will always yearn for the more traditional ways of showing affection or comradery. And coming from Estinien, of all people, he knows that they do not come easily nor frequently, and therefore mean ten times and much. Aymeric's eyes drop to the hand on his arm, a little confused by quietly accepting, he still does not expect to be pulled into an embrace.

His eyes widen in surprise, feeling like something in him has also been opened raw. His confidence, for a moment, shakes at the sheer openness of Estinien's need for this--a connection? Reassurance? He isn't exactly sure, but he offers both without further hestiation.

Aymeric returns the hug in full, not bothering to polite about it as he encircles his arms tightly around his friend. He allows his head to bow forward and closes his eyes, taking that moment to pretend they are not in a jail cell several floors beneath street level, holding on until their hearts beat in sync.

It's in these moments that Estinien realizes that he loves him, with a depth of desperate need that he swore he never would again. What form that love takes seems irrelevant to him - he hardly knows the difference between one flavor and another, with such a limited sampling. What strikes him more than anything is the constancy of it, the devotion.

Again and again, his fears of having a level of himself exposed that would turn Aymeric away has been disproven. That had seemed impossible, with the person Estinien had become, just as impossible as him ever opening himself to this pain again.

Some part of him resents it, as if ensnared in the feeling against his will. The rest, though - the parts that have grown alongside Aymeric - is simply terrified of having it taken away.

What eventually forces Estinien to let go is remembering that they are not completely alone. The knights will be back for them soon, and they need to be ready for what comes. They also can't afford to be seen like this, exposed and embracing. It's with a sense of reluctance he pulls away, though his hand lingers at Aymeric's hip.

"You have done more than enough for me," he says quietly, and then releases his hold. Pain that is the result of no physical wound can be seen in his eyes, before he bends to retrieve his undershirt, beginning to prepare in earnest.

Edited 2020-12-08 02:24 (UTC)

Aymeric is content to hang on as long as allowed. These moments of closeness are to be savored, when he feels they connect and understand one another on an entirely different level. Aymeric has never had a wealth of true friends throughout his life, but he knows that his relationship with Estinien is different. Even putting aside the attraction he now acknowledges, there has not be anyone else he trusts so completely.

And that is why he can face the Tribunal without regret.

He almost refuses to open his eyes when Estinien pulls back, but reminds himself that the strength his friend offers should not be wasted. So open his eyes he does and offers a smile to the other man that he hopes is filled with the gratitude that he feels. That, apparently, Estinien shares.

"It shall not end here, my friend." And that is a promise.

He readies himself, trading out fine silks for linen and mail. He received a slight upgrade in armor with his promotion, but most of it is standard fare for the Temple Knights, not at all the same sort of make and bond as drachen mail. What he does hold close, however, is Naegling. Having donned the rest of his armor, he stands quietly for a moment as he holds the large blade out in open palms.

"This blade has been used to slay dragons for generations," he says quietly, but loud enough that it's intended for Estinien to hear. "And yet that was not why my father passed it on to me. 'May it grant you strength in times of peril, both on and off the battlefield.'"

A short huff and he settles it into the hold at his belt and he turns to face his friend.

"I believe now is one such time."

Estinien is used to taking his armor on and off quickly, but with how close-fitting drachen armor is, it can still be a challenge. So, when Aymeric is finished and examining his sword, Estinien is still applying his gauntlets, lost in thought. He looks up as he speaks, though, considering Aymeric's words earnestly.

He never met Aymeric's father, and he barely knew his mother, but he's still come to feel some connection to the family regardless. To hear Aymeric's tales, and to make himself comfortable in his home, it would seem wrong to disregard the couple that had brought him there.

Estinien comes to Aymeric's side, his helmet tucked under an elbow, gazing at the sword over his shoulder. Aymeric is truly never at a loss for words, it seems. He finds inspiration in so many places.

"From all I have heard," Estinien says. "He would be full glad to see you wield it so."

There is a comfort in the sound of the clicking of armor into place, the clacking of Estinien's boots familiar even on the unfamiliar flooring. This, he knows. This, he can rely on. If he thinks of it as no different than preparing for the field missions they used to embark on together those few years ago, the task ahead of them feels less daunting.

His gaze slides easily from his sword to his friend and Estinien's words have their desired effect. Aymeric smiles, small as it is, and gives a short nod.

"I certainly hope so." He exhales low and slow through his nose as he turns his gaze up to the ceiling, then closes his eyes. "We may have yet to garner the Fury's blessing, as our opponents would imagine...but we are not fighting for divine retribution or judgment. We are fighting so that the people who have been wronged have a voice they may not otherwise be afforded."

He opens eyes, turning his surprisingly peaceful expression onto Estinien.

"What greater calling is there?"

Sometimes the things Aymeric says are genuinely overwhelming, in that Estinien can scarcely believe they are things a real person says outside of a planned speech. Yet, Aymeric is devising them constantly, and often to an audience of one. It's felt almost magical at times, the way that one as distant as Estinien could still buy into the vision Aymeric lives by.

This isn't the first time Estinien has felt with great clarity that Aymeric is destined for greatness, but it's a visceral reminder. Estinien can't help but gaze back at him, taking in the peace of his expression. He understands the feeling of having such resolute purpose, though the moods in which they each pursue their goals could not be further apart.

He has to win this fight, he realizes, if only to keep Aymeric safe. Azure Dragoon be damned.

"If you do not have the Fury's blessing," Estinien says, "it cannot be worth having."

If Aymeric was struck by Estinien's earlier remark, this entirely takes him. He blinks, lips parting as he is visibly surprised by the sentiment. They have oft made light of the Fury's influence being taken for granted--while a believer in Her existence, Aymeric has never once thought she interfered with the daily dallying of men--yet such a notion of truly being worthy of her favor is not something Aymeric had honestly considered for himself.

It's a humbling thought. That in a land who has so often disappointed him, Estinien see a glimmer of hope in someone else. In him.

That he will not squander. That, too, is worth fighting for.

Aymeric smiles, the warmth that Estinien's words have brought conveyed in the motion alone. He says naught as the sound of approaching footsteps yet hails the end of their privacy...and the beginning of their true test.

They are retrieved and led up but no less than five knights, flanked about to form something of a guard as they are led up to the Tribunal proper. Aymeric has attended trials before, but never has he been led down into the pit where the defendants stand. Low--so very low, and clearly meant that way. They are to be judged not by their peers, but by the Fury herself--or at least that is the intent.

As expected, a sizeable crowd has gathered, filling what sitting and standing room there is available for the public to watch. Aymeric keeps his head high, not haughty, but not a man downtrodden with guilt either.

Also, as expected, the Azure Dragoon stands with the prosecution, flanked by other members of House Durendaire. Aymeric notes the other armored fellow at his side, though he cannot recall his name--given the nature of his large sword, however, Aymeric assumes he will be the second in this fight.

He shares a quiet glance with Estinien.

With all assembled, the High Adjudicator stands. The crowd grows quiet.

"We are gathered here today, under the watchful gaze of the Fury, to ascertain the guilt of two souls in a trial by combat. Petitioners, step forward!"

The Azure Dragoon and two other members of Durendaire step forward.

"Ser Draneux," the Adjudicator begins. "For the benefit of all here present, I would ask you to repeat the charges which you have leveled against these men."

With his helmet on, Estinien once again disappears behind that metallic veneer, his mood largely concealed by the mask. He cuts an even more imposing figure that way, his lance at his back, the display of a fully armed dragoon clearly putting their company on guard. It's to his benefit, he thinks - it means he doesn't need to struggle to hide his worried glances towards Aymeric as they are escorted, nor the raw contempt in his eyes when Ser Draneux steps forward to speak.

While Estinien stands rigidly, his arms crossed around his chest, Ser Draneux approaches the stand with his helmet off. He's easily recognizable amount the nobility, Estinien thinks - it's to his advantage to flaunt his identity. To remind them of who they are looking at. Estinien doesn't know the name of the knight beside him, but he remembers from the Vigil, while he was being apprehended.

Ser Draneux casts Estinien a venomous look, speaking with unmarred confidence:

"I, Ser Draneux de Durendaire, Azure Dragoon and Commander of the Order of the Knights Dragoon, did bear witness to Ser Estinien Wyrmblood plundering the treasury of the Dusk Vigil." Estinien narrows his eyes, unseen. "Furthermore," Ser Draneux's glare turns on Aymeric now, "it has become clearly apparent that not only has Ser Aymeric de Borel enabled his actions with undue probing of our House's operations, he has orchestrated it."

There are mumblings amongst the crowd. Convenient to believe, for some.

"Ser Estinien has no loyalty to the Order - only loyalty to his accomplice, who would wield him like a weapon against House Durendaire, duly appointed protector of the Coerthan highlands. He lacks the honor and integrity to serve under the Knights Dragoon."

Despite his determination to protect Aymeric, the words bring a feeling of crushing despair down upon Estinien's shoulders. It's not the first time it has occurred to him, but with them standing here, at the end of the line, it can no longer be avoided. He stares down at the stand ahead of them. If he's removed from the Order... his life will be over, rendered meaningless in a single instant. All he's done, for nothing, left impotent, thirsting for a vengeance that will never be quenched...

He is shaken by the prospect of it - to live the rest of his days, with no hope of release. Even now, he can feel himself sinking.

Edited 2020-12-09 07:10 (UTC)

Aymeric does a remarkable job of keeping his expression level, portraying not fear nor contempt as the allegations and said aloud. Knowing that they are coming and hearing them are two different experiences, but all that betrays his thoughts on the manner are the gentle pinching of his brows and the tightness in his jaw. He meets the Azure Dragoon's gaze man-to-man and does not let it fall when eye contact is broken.

He bids his time, going over some of the words he has yet concocted in his mind. He does not look at Estinien, though he can all but taste the energy emanating off the other man--anger, of course, some dread. Aymeric feels those as well, but keeps them locked tightly inside. Now is time for a performance.

This is a chance they ought not squander.

"Will the accused step forward," the High Adjudicator instructs. Draneux sends a smug look their way. Aymeric steps forward, keeping his shoulders square. He raises his chin slightly once he can hear the click of Estinien's boots take place beside him.

"What say you to these charges?"

"I, Aymeric de Borel, Captain of the Temple Knights, am innocent of these charges."

What is expected to follow is claiming his right to trial by combat, but instead he leaves a pregnant pause. For a moment, the room is silent as attendees share glances with one another. A few quiet mumblings start to appear before Aymeric raises his voice, brow suddenly stern.

"--Not as such, at any rate."

All the Adjudicators trade glances with one another.

"As a Captain in the Temple Knights I am also given the distinct honor of protecting the Coerthan Highlands--one that I can assure you we take with every onze of seriousness. And it was in that duty that my squadron was approached on patrol by the lumber town, Hemlock."

He turns away from the Adjudicators, towards the crowd.

"The parchment we write, the lumber for our homes, the wood for our hearths--this and more come from the hard labor of a stalwart few who have pledged their loyalty and goods to Ishgard. As with any settlement under Ishgard's protection, they are duly afforded an allotment to help them weather the dangers of the Dravanian horde--an allotment that can mean life or death in the Highlands! Such an allotment had gone missing not once, not twice--but three separate instances since the last summer." He counts slowly, holding up a finger at each interval to further make his point.

"It is with a heavy heart that I say to all present that Hemlock is not the only village or township that has been denied these sorely needed supplies. Nay, there are at least--at least seven others whose allotments have also gone missing over the past year."

He turns then to the gathering of Durendaire, some of whom look honestly confused, while others hold an understandable amount of ire.

"It was only in following the line of missing allotments--all of which were well within the boundaries of my squadron's patrol, as well as permission given by other squadrons in the area--that House Durendaire's influence was found at each site. It was not with the intent of finding the esteemed House Durendaire at the end of this thread, yet that is where it lead. If that is what is to be considered undue probing, then mayhaps I am guilty."

Aymeric turns back to the Adjudicators, sparing a quick glance to the dragoon at his side. More whispers traded amongst the High Houses.

"But it was out of loyalty to Ishgard and all the people under her protection that Ser Estinien did act. For we as Knights serve all men, both highborn and low, within the walls of this glorious city and to all the villages that surround her. It is with honor for the oath he swore to protect them and the integrity to do right by those who have been so very wronged that he saw this thread to its end--"

"High Adjudicator--!" One of the members of House Durendaire tries to interrupt, but Aymeric continues.

"That the funds for the missing allotments--funds that belong to the Holy See, I might add--should be found at the treasury housed in the Dusk Vigil--?"

"This is heresy!"

"--If those actions have truly damned us, then we will let the Fury decide. But as it stands we are innocent of these charges--our searches were true and just with Ishgard's health and prosperity in mind. And we claim our right to trial by combat."

Estinien had already been aware that Aymeric was going to speak before the crowd, but he knew not with how much authority. As it turns out, Aymeric holds court as if he has every right to do so, even going as far as to address the crowd instead of the adjudicators. Despite his efforts to not show an emotional reaction, he can't help but stare at his friend as he goes, only breaking away briefly to observe the reactions of the audience and their opponents.

Ser Draneux is clearly a bit caught off guard, but as any Azure Dragoon would require, he is capable of holding it in, managing to give Aymeric a look that suggests he could think he is spinning a tale rather than airing out his dirty laundry. Others in his group have less control. The larger knight next to him looks completely blindsided by Aymeric confidence, and other members of House Durendaire seem just as blindsided by any sniff of this information at all.

Keeping secrets, were they? Even from their own house.

Once Aymeric is finished, Estinien realizes that he has delivered this speech with a sense of poise that he himself never could have managed. He'd tried to explain it when he was first arrested, but presentation went a long way with these people, and with a surge of hope Estinien feels as if his friend had actually done it. No matter how the responsible Durendaires would try to deny it, the seeds have been planted, and appear ready to bloom.

He takes his turn to address the Adjudicator, amid the frantic mumblings of the crowd.

"I, Estinien Wyrmblood, of the Order of the Knights Dragoon, am innocent of this charge," he says, out of sheer formality at this point. "I've ill need for stolen wealth... unlike the commanders of the Dusk Vigil. With mine own eyes I witnessed evidence of their history of financial mismanagement, which they would then punish others to conceal."

He casts a look directly at Draneux.

"I will have my Trial by Combat, and I will savour the opportunity to put an end to this farce."

"A fanciful tale," Ser Draneux says coolly, though his eyes speak differently. "But you have no true evidence to back these claims, besides conspiracy and conjecture."

Edited 2020-12-10 06:13 (UTC)

There is a sense of thrill in this that Aymeric did not realize he would be feeling. But the seeds of discord and doubt have been sewn, whispers in the crowds and gazes casting curiously between Aymeric and Estinien and their counterparts. Aymeric can feel his chest expanding with the swell of excitement, knowing that this is far from over, but that this simple act of sharing the truth could yet have an effect.

At Ser Draneux's rebuttal, Aymeric takes a step to stand more purposefully next to Estinien in the Azure Dragoon's view.

"On the contrary, Ser Dragoon," he says smoothly, before turning to the Adjudicators. "Should it be agreeable to the esteemed council, we would be ready to present the physical evidence that we have compiled."

In truth, it is highly possible that what they have collected has yet been taken by House Durendaire, but no one but Aymeric and Estinien would feasibly know where any and all pieces of evidence are housed. The threat, he hopes, is enough.

The High Adjudicator stands. "Once a claim to Trial By Combat has been placed then it stands, Ser Aymeric. To renounce your claim would be an admission of guilt."

Aymeric bows. "I do not renounce my claim."

"Then we will commence the trial. Raise the platform!"

As the large opening in the center of the room is filled in with a new stone battleground, Aymeric spares Estinien a quick glance with a raised brow.

Estinien exhales slowly, more and more of that creeping dread escaping him as things proceed. All this time, he's been afraid that even if they win, the condemnation of the crowd would end their lives regardless. To hear it now, though - to hear the people react to Aymeric's words... finally, it feels as if they have a chance.

If only they can win this fight, the weight of Halone's judgment could be enough to push it over the edge. Though his body still aches and the past days weight on him, the adrenaline of the moment has given him a second wind. He looks to meet Aymeric's glance and nods, the corner of his lip curving into the slightest of smiles.

There will be time to celebrate later, once they are beyond this battle - for now, defending Aymeric and bringing down the Azure Dragoon will be his paramount concerns.

He walks towards the now open arena, his gaze lingering on Ser Draneux instead. The other dragoon is scowling as he slips on his helmet, preparing for combat, and Estinien does his best to avoid smirking at him. There is a satisfaction he cannot name that comes with seeing someone in such a high position unable to be shielded from the truth by their rank. Maybe it's justice, a sight so rare Estinien hardly gets to behold it.

He holds close to Aymeric's side as they find their positions, unsheathing his lance and holding it at the ready. The gate slides closed behind them, though it makes little difference to Estinien. It seems most likely that the burlier looking fellow will hold to the ground and challenge Aymeric. He must be certain to keep Draneux from using his aerial advantage, he determines. He's certain Aymeric can hold his own, as long as he isn't flanked by the dragoon's relative speed.

"Oh Halone!" the High Adjudicator's voice echoes through the hall. "Render onto us your judgment! Raise up the righteous, and cast down the wicked!"

The moment the battle is declared, both dragoons disappear from the arena.

What has been a secret mission of sorts and an ongoing effort between the two of them has finally reached its peak and the adrenaline rush that comes from laying it all out on the open is much needed for the work they have yet to do. In contrast, the crossing of blades feels nothing to the time put into uncovering all that they had, to seeing the wary faces of those without losing their trust in the powers that ought to protect them. This is something they have prepared for--and prepared well.

Aymeric takes his standard issue shield out on his left arm and unsheathes Naegling from his hip as he steps out onto the platform, keeping pace with Estinien out of instinct alone. Knowing both of their disciplines they had seen fit to pair them off appropriately, though Aymeric would not think of trying to hold his own against the Azure Dragoon--Estinien, though. Estinien can do it. He believes it--nay, he knows it. So Aymeric focuses his gaze on the other gladiator, also armed with shield and broadsword. He gives a slight bow of his head in acknowledgment to his opponent who does not return the gesture.

More than the Adjudicator's voice, it is both dragoons leaping into the air that feels the true signal of the fight. Aymeric and the Dunrendaire knight rush forward at one another, slamming their shields as the other's blade comes down towards Aymeric's unprotected side. Aymeric spins in the opposite direction, rolling shield along shield to shove the other at this back to knock him off balance, followed by a swing of his word, barely dodged.

The sound of metal barring against metal rings like a song in the hall, blade against blade, blade against shield. Both men take blows in almost equal succession, losing a few rings of chain mail here and there. The knight manages to catch Aymeric at a disadvantage, forcing Aymeric to drop to his knees and block fully with his shield. Yet the blade slices over the edge, nearly going through his cheek if Aymeric had not pulled back quick enough. The graze and fresh blood is hardly a price to play.

As Aymeric shoves back up, the knight pushes his advantage again, this time aiming his sword point black on the shield, embedding the first few ilms into the now worn metal. His eyes go wide behind the coif and Aymeric wastes not a second--he yanks forward, pulling the knight with him before flinging his left arm out to the side and discarding the shield entirely. He spins up on his feet, gripping Naegling with both of his hands.

The Durendaire Knight manages to dislodge Aymeric's shield, sending it flying off the edge of the platform and leaving the young captain with only his sword and wits to defend him. This seems to be a turning point...

It is perhaps to Estinien's detriment that he keeps such a close eye on Aymeric's side of the fight. It certainly doesn't help his focus - and yet it's hard to draw his attention away, knowing that one blow could change everything. The Durendaire will be out for blood now, he thinks. Win or lose, he suspects that he and Aymeric will have made some lifetime enemies.

While Aymeric's battle is at least somewhat coherent to watch, the dragoon's fight is a blur. Two fully armoured bodies ricochet from the ceiling to the walls to the floor, their presence punctuated by the moments that they pound against the stone, only to vanish again with contrasting weightlessness. Neither can afford to be struck with a force that's intended to pierce a dragon's hide - an ordinary man would be easily killed, armor or no.

Despite his distraction, Estinien is keen to keep Draneux's attention on him. As Aymeric's shield is pierced, Estinien finally slips in a blow - or a grapple, more accurately. He catches a gap in Draneux armour with the hook of his Gae Bolg's wings, finding purchase enough to swing him down towards the floor. The Azure Dragoon lands, but with an uneven gate, his knee taking far more weight than it should and smacking into the stone. Estinien recognizes the vulnerability for what it is, even as Draneux masks his pain.

And then Aymeric's shield goes flying, and both dragoons are alerted to the same of clashing metal. One knight is down their defence, and that in itself seems grim, even before Estinien notices Draneux's sightline - one that leads straight for Aymeric.

There are no rules against double-teaming in a battle like this. Draneux recovers from his blunder by taking to the air once more, aiming a merciless lance blow towards Aymeric's back. Estinien refuses to pause long enough to contemplate what might have happened if he hadn't seen the Azure Dragoon's intent.

Instead of the point of a Gae Bolg, Aymeric will instead feel two suits of armor crash past him and Estinien throws himself bodily at Draneux, like a fired arrow knocking another off course. The move is otherwise reckless and uncalculated, though - and as the two dragoons hit the wall, Estinien is on the side that meets stone most harshly.

They fall into the ground in a tangle, every lingering pain in Estinien's body lighting up anew. The only mercy is that Draneux is stunned as well, though Estinien doesn't expect that to last, desperately grasping for a better hold on his lance as he attempts to right himself.

Keen though he will always be to see Estinien at his best in combat no matter how well he really understands how such feats are managed, he knows that trying to track the movements of his friend and the Azure Dragoon while dealing with his own opponent right now are out of the question. As such, the sudden appearance of both flying past him like a canon ball.

Aymeric pulls back instinctively, as does the other knight as the two dragoons collide. He recognizes instantly that Estinien has taken the brunt of it and his own feet move before he realizes it, turning an unwise back to his opponent. The confusion of their appearance wears off as the Durendaire Knight takes the opportunity to chase after, raising his sword to land a blow at Aymeric's shoulder. Aymeric hears the footfall behind him, however, and pivots around with a rush of aether just in time to block the attack with the flat of his considerably larger blade--

--or so he intends. Instead an untrained, wobbly, but recognizable wall of aether bursts forth to take the blow, disappearing a few seconds later in an a small explosion, sending both knights backwards from one another. Rather than question his luck, Aymeric sprints over to the two dragoons, placing himself very pointedly between them, back to his Estinien as he readies his sword at the Azure Dragoon.

"How do you fare, my friend?" he asks over his shoulder.

Estinien drags himself to his feet, panting with exertion. His eyes had settled on Aymeric as the other man came upon him, half expecting his friend to be cut down despite his efforts, but Aymeric handily proves him wrong. A new aether technique, one Estinien has not seen much of - he's familiar with the concept of an aether shield, but to fend off a blow like that?

He'll have to ask Aymeric about it later. For, the moment his friend is safe, his fierce gaze falls upon the Azure Dragoon once more, staring straight past Aymeric's defense. The thought that with a mere moment's difference, Aymeric could have been slain with his back turned... that was an attempted killing blow, and nothing less. The the fury of it turns in Estinien's belly like dragon fire, sheer hatred in his eyes. Estinien has no answer for Aymeric, only a growl in his throat.

"Step aside or I will strike you down," Draneux spits, venom in his own words to match. Estinien can sense his damaged pride, pushed to this point by his supposed lesser. Ser Draneux thinks he knows what anger is. He has no idea. Estinien staggers forward a step, shaking off the remains of his shock. His grip on his spear tightens, his composure returning - all except the new area of absolute rancor surrounding him.

Draneux has certainly been putting him through his paces, but Estinien has not forgotten the blow he stuck a few moments before - the Azure Dragoon's leg is a weakness, a target. Estinien will not suffer him to stand again unchallenged.

Just as Draneux took Aymeric by surprise, Estinien feels no need to allow him to finish his thought. Instead, before the Azure Dragoon can take another step, Estinien has leapt - towards Draneux, then to the side, feinting with deadly precision, only to strike his wounded leg out from beneath him with the full force of his swinging spear.

Draneux puts up a defense, of course - but nothing Estinien hasn't anticipated. Estinien refuses to yield, refuses to give him even a moment to recover, beating his opponent back and away towards the center of the ring.

Estinien's action must speak for themselves--as they often do when his friend prefers them heavily over words. Though he also knows that Estinien is the sort to push to his limits, he is not in the position to object. With the dragoons facing off once again, Aymeric must turn his attention back to his designated opponent.

The Durendaire Knight has the same thought, it seems. Two swords clash once again, strike after strike. It's an adjustment on Aymeric's part, having to take conscious efforts not to try and deflect blows with his shield, but he finds a rhythm to taking the hits with the flat end of his blade or avoiding them as much as he can.

Aymeric manages to land a blow to the knight's shoulder, sending him off-kilter with a cry of pain as Naegling pierces the mail, which leaves him woefully open for what could be a finishing blow--

--instead, Aymeric knocks the knight back with the pummel of his sword, knocking the wind out of him. He is here to prove a point, not take blood. With his opponent down, he takes the moment to spare a glance towards his friend.

It's in the back of Estinien's mind that they're not here to kill - to even imagine the scandal that would unfold if this battle ended with the Azure Dragoon dead is a daunting task. It's equally difficult to remain committed to that ideal in the moment, however, after seeing that Draneux is apparently offering them no such courtesy.

Still, Estinien's dogged pursuit remains focused on the legs, his opponent barely managing to keep up. He can sense the increasing recklessness of Draneux's movements, desperation taking its toll. All he needs is one decisive blow to end this, he thinks - a strike to bring Draneux to his knees, and put an end to this farce for good. He sees such an opportunity as the other dragoon's lance slips from his fingers, and Estinien lifts his spear to finish it...

...only for the claws of Draneux's gauntlet to seize the pole of his lance. He tries to pull it free, but the Azure Dragoon's grasp is inhumanely strong, and it's then that Estinien recognizes the shift in the aether around them - the presence of the Eye, of Nidhogg, is tangible, even if he can't see the glints of red in his enemy's eyes.

Faster than he can react, another set of claws seizes around his throat, pressuring the material of his neck guard enough to make him choke. His feet leave the floor, Draneux holding him aloft.

There are no laws set in stone regarding the use of Nidhogg's Eye in trial by combat - after all, it is not usually expected that the Azure Dragoon would be participating. Still, Estinien has scarcely imagined that Draneux would dare to invoke it here, to make the wretched wyrm's power a deciding factor in Halone's judgment. That in itself is enough to stun him.

But not for long. Estinien makes a wild bid for freedom, kicking at Draneux's belly with the spur of his boot. He's thrown to the ground in the next moment, landing with a clatter as the Azure Dragoon stares down at him. He tries to move, to put distance between them, but he doesn't have the time. Draneux flips backwards, collecting his lance, only to dash forward just as quickly and bring it down heavy against Estinien's helm. He can hear, and feel, the metal bend beneath it.

He can't stop it, now - Draneux is too strong, the aura of his blows filled with destructive aether. The lance approaches on a return swing, catching Estinien across the chest and belly this time, launching him across the arena and into the stone on the other side.

Estinien's visor is broken, he can tell already, blood trickling down and over his exposed eye and staining his white hair as he tries to find his composure. The one boon he has is that he managed to keep his hand tangled in the cord encircling his lance - he hasn't lost it. Yet, that won't help him now.

He can see the dark magic of the wyrm surround the Azure Dragoon as he sets his sights on him - lance raised as he takes to the air, aiming for a dive that Estinien does not have the strength to dodge.

A glance a few moments too late, it would seem. Aymeric's eyes widen as he watches his friend sent flying across their enclosed battlefield, pieces of his armor clearly missing. His eyes flick to the Azure Dragoon, brimming with aether that Aymeric has never seen nor sensed in person, but logic alone beguiles all that it could be. The thought of using such power in what is meant to be a court of law, combat meant to avail or damn those in the eyes of the Fury and therefore Ishgard herself...

That power is meant to be used against the Dravanian horde--not against Ishgard's own children.

Not against Estinien.

Aymeric runs, the knight completely forgotten. Draneux takes to the air as the yalms close between them and time itself seems to slow down. He loses sight of the Azure Dragoon, instead focusing on the man prone on the floor, gripping his lance like a lifeline. His only goal is to get there and fast, sight and sound all focusing in on a single point. His boots skid to a stop as he takes his stance between dragoon and dragoon and not a second too soon.

The sharp push of aether from above signals the incoming attack and Aymeric summons a swell of his own on instinct, intending to fashion something of the shield he had minutes before. But this is different--not in a last ditch effort to shield himself without a proper shield, he instead stands opposed to what he deems as the unjust use of power against someone very important to him. It is almost a righteous indignation which gives him the strength to hold his stance as he raises up his sword to block the attack and in that same instant, a pure white light suddenly bursts forth, forming two large wings, angled back to protect the person behind him.

Estinien's head spins, something pounding inside his skull just as sickness turns in his gut. It's all he can do to try to shield himself with his lance, even as his arms shift sluggishly - but as he braces himself for impact, it doesn't come. Instead, he's dazzled by a flare of light as Aymeric steps in front of him, the vision of wings sprouting from his back.

He's familiar with the idea of techniques like this, they are nothing unprecedented, but in the moment it feels akin to divine intervention. He can feel Aymeric's aether muffling the surge of power formed by the Azure Dragoon's dive, hitting its apex as their forces collide at Aymeric's sword. Nidhogg's power soaks them, and while Estinien is mostly shielded, he can't help but feel it must be staggering for Aymeric, as Draneux's assault aims to strike him down. Aether tears against aether, and a moment later, Draneux is flying backwards, skidding against the stone as he finds his footing.

As much of a godsend as Aymeric's intervention has been, Estinien won't leave fate to decide whether it works a second time. Instead, he staggers to his feet, pushing through pain and sickness, blood dripping down the front of his armor and clouding his eyes. While the Azure Dragoon has Nidhogg's power, Estinien only has his own. Yet, he's learned to make use of it, to the best of his ability - and if it isn't spent now, he will lose his chance for good.

As Draneux braces against the ground, claws digging marks into the stone, Estinien waste no time. Thrusting his lance upward, he forces what aether he can into his lance, taking to the sky and putting everything into this last-ditch maneuver to save both of their lives.

They call it a Dragonfire Dive, inspired by the foes they have trained themselves to best. Estinien hits the ground before the Azure Dragoon as a searing missile of heat, and despite the rage of the wyrm burning inside of him, Draneux can't help but be snuffed out.

Draneux hits the stone, the spikes of his armor screeching around the surface. In the same moment, Estinien staggers to his knees, the tip of his lance piercing the arena stone. He's spent, he knows it. It's nothing but raw willpower that keeps him collapse as his hazy eyes stay focused on his prone enemy.

The impact of lance meeting sword rattles him but Aymeric does not falter. The wyrm's aether feels like fire as it tries to cut forward and through him, his own more akin to a cool breeze holding as fast and firm as it can against the onslaught of a raging storm. Aymeric grinds his teeth as he holds, feeling his footing on the ground press back an ilm. But never once does he lower his weapon--he will stand as a fortress until he has run out.

There is some part of him that knows Estinien won't stay down--if he has an onze of energy left, he will use it to fight tooth and spear. So it's not surprising when there is a rush of air at Aymeric's back, that same part of him recognizing instantly that Estinien has taken to the air. It all happens in a matter of seconds, Estinien flying down like a blaze sent from the heavens itself, a sight that would surely make the Fury Herself shine with pride. When the dust settles and Aymeric's wings fade, the Azure Dragoon lays on the stone--defeated.

The room is silent, save for the Durendaire Knight, holding his sword and shield as if he were ready to take up the fight again. He stands there for a moment, the rattling of metal breaking the silence as he shakes. Then all of a sudden his knees hit the floor and he discards sword and shield.

"By the Fury!" he says aloud, holding his hands up to the heavens. "She is here with us!"

A pious man, apparently.

Voices suddenly ring out across the room. Gasps in the audience, a few others starting to recite passages from the Enchiridion, a few offering loud incredulity.

Aymeric rushes over to Estinien's side before the High Adjudicator stands again, holding his hand up to command the attention of the room.

"The Fury hath spoken! By the Rights of Combat...Ser Aymeric de Borel and Ser Estinien Wyrmblood are hereby cleared of all charges."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

why don't you figure my heart out?

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