* takes place in Endwalker, with a slight SPOILER for a side-quest * yup, filling my own prompt * this one was brutal to write so I hope it turned out okay! * special thanks to lassarina for the "chew toy" phrase
Emmanellain was in a funk. Had been for months, to be honest. He'd felt lost ever since Honoroit took his leave of him. He'd grown accustomed to the young pageboy following him around faithfully and looking out for him. But now Honoroit was off on his book tour, of all things, and Emmanellain was left to fend for himself.
Sometimes he wondered if he was up to it.
Oh, he liked his carefree life, he did. It was fun to do as he pleased, to pretend that everything was all right. But then he'd wake up in a panic in the wee hours of the night, his own voice still reverberating in his ears: "Do something!" and he'd see the arrow fly again to strike that protestor. He'd wipe the sweat off his brow and try to get back to sleep, but all his failings would come rushing back and traipse through his mind like skeletons on parade.
Artoirel would have known something was wrong, but his brother wasn't here in Sharlayan, thankfully. No, there was no one here to remind Emmanellain of his faults... except for him.
It rankled Emmanellain, it did, that a bloody pirate should get under his skin so, and yet he did. For every barb Sicard tossed out was like salt in a wound. The pirate had a way of seeing straight to the heart of all of Emmanellain's innermost fears about himself. His response to the barbs had been to defend himself, because who wouldn't? He'd talk big, trying to make his accomplishments, pithy though they were, seem much more important, but he could see the truth in Sicard's laughing eyes, and hear a hint of doubt in his own voice. It was enough almost to make him want to change, to become a better and stronger man just so he could shut that pirate up.
Emmanellain scowled down at his drink. He'd come to The Last Stand when he had awoken yet again, thankful that the eatery was open all hours of the day and that he could drown his sorrows in his ale, but it didn't seem to be helping tonight. Perhaps a walk was in order...
* * *
Sicard had just finished directing his crew, who had been offloading the latest batch of supplies the Scions had ordered. That task complete, Sicard now set off towards the Last Stand for a late-night pint. His lips curled into a grin as he spotted his favorite chew toy walking up the harbor.
Emmanellain was walking alone, his hands clasped behind his back, clearly lost in thought, but he looked up as Sicard approached and stiffened, dropping his hands to his sides in tight balls.
"Out for a late jaunt, eh?" Sicard said.
"And what business of it is yours?" Emmanellain responded.
"It's my business to see everyone in this Contingent is pulling their own weight," Sicard said. "What were you off doing while I was getting more supplies? Prolly lazing about, like always."
Emmanellain dropped his eyes. "I...want to do better," he muttered.
"Eh? What was that?"
"I want to do better, all right?!" Emmanellain said bitterly. "You're right about me. Every. Single. Thing you've said about me has been right. I'm weak, and a coward, and lazy, and it's not right and I know it but by the Fury I don't know how to change."
"Emmanellain..." Sicard said, and stepped close to him. Emmanellain's eyes grew wide as the pirate leaned into him, but he didn't put up his hands to stop Sicard.
It was by no means a perfect kiss. Sicard's lips were chapped from from the sea spray, and tears wear running down Emmanellain's cheeks, but the kiss was surprisingly touching, Emmanellain thought, and afterward Sicard rested his forehead against his.
"One step at a time, luv," Sicard said softly. "That's how you change. Just one step at a time."
"Why?" Emmanellain whispered, and Sicard smiled.
"What, you think a pirate like me can't care? 'Course I can. And besides," Sicard said, his voice quieting, "I've been there. Been forced to change because of what someone else thought of what I was doin'. I managed it, but it weren't easy. You can, too. I'll help you."
Emmanellain felt a small spark of hope in his chest. Maybe he could change, and the nightmares would stop. At least he wasn't alone anymore.
untitled Emmanellain/Sicard, T, slight spoilers for Endwalker
* yup, filling my own prompt
* this one was brutal to write so I hope it turned out okay!
* special thanks to
Emmanellain was in a funk. Had been for months, to be honest. He'd felt lost ever since Honoroit took his leave of him. He'd grown accustomed to the young pageboy following him around faithfully and looking out for him. But now Honoroit was off on his book tour, of all things, and Emmanellain was left to fend for himself.
Sometimes he wondered if he was up to it.
Oh, he liked his carefree life, he did. It was fun to do as he pleased, to pretend that everything was all right. But then he'd wake up in a panic in the wee hours of the night, his own voice still reverberating in his ears: "Do something!" and he'd see the arrow fly again to strike that protestor. He'd wipe the sweat off his brow and try to get back to sleep, but all his failings would come rushing back and traipse through his mind like skeletons on parade.
Artoirel would have known something was wrong, but his brother wasn't here in Sharlayan, thankfully. No, there was no one here to remind Emmanellain of his faults... except for him.
It rankled Emmanellain, it did, that a bloody pirate should get under his skin so, and yet he did. For every barb Sicard tossed out was like salt in a wound. The pirate had a way of seeing straight to the heart of all of Emmanellain's innermost fears about himself. His response to the barbs had been to defend himself, because who wouldn't? He'd talk big, trying to make his accomplishments, pithy though they were, seem much more important, but he could see the truth in Sicard's laughing eyes, and hear a hint of doubt in his own voice. It was enough almost to make him want to change, to become a better and stronger man just so he could shut that pirate up.
Emmanellain scowled down at his drink. He'd come to The Last Stand when he had awoken yet again, thankful that the eatery was open all hours of the day and that he could drown his sorrows in his ale, but it didn't seem to be helping tonight. Perhaps a walk was in order...
* * *
Sicard had just finished directing his crew, who had been offloading the latest batch of supplies the Scions had ordered. That task complete, Sicard now set off towards the Last Stand for a late-night pint. His lips curled into a grin as he spotted his favorite chew toy walking up the harbor.
Emmanellain was walking alone, his hands clasped behind his back, clearly lost in thought, but he looked up as Sicard approached and stiffened, dropping his hands to his sides in tight balls.
"Out for a late jaunt, eh?" Sicard said.
"And what business of it is yours?" Emmanellain responded.
"It's my business to see everyone in this Contingent is pulling their own weight," Sicard said. "What were you off doing while I was getting more supplies? Prolly lazing about, like always."
Emmanellain dropped his eyes. "I...want to do better," he muttered.
"Eh? What was that?"
"I want to do better, all right?!" Emmanellain said bitterly. "You're right about me. Every. Single. Thing you've said about me has been right. I'm weak, and a coward, and lazy, and it's not right and I know it but by the Fury I don't know how to change."
"Emmanellain..." Sicard said, and stepped close to him. Emmanellain's eyes grew wide as the pirate leaned into him, but he didn't put up his hands to stop Sicard.
It was by no means a perfect kiss. Sicard's lips were chapped from from the sea spray, and tears wear running down Emmanellain's cheeks, but the kiss was surprisingly touching, Emmanellain thought, and afterward Sicard rested his forehead against his.
"One step at a time, luv," Sicard said softly. "That's how you change. Just one step at a time."
"Why?" Emmanellain whispered, and Sicard smiled.
"What, you think a pirate like me can't care? 'Course I can. And besides," Sicard said, his voice quieting, "I've been there. Been forced to change because of what someone else thought of what I was doin'. I managed it, but it weren't easy. You can, too. I'll help you."
Emmanellain felt a small spark of hope in his chest. Maybe he could change, and the nightmares would stop. At least he wasn't alone anymore.