Tiffaunie Commission No.2 + fiction (SPOILERS)

My latest commission from . Reposted here with the artist's permission, so please also leave comments and favs on Ellirh's submission: CM: Last smile. Frame added by me.

Art ©
Frame by
Tiffaunie © me
Haurchefant and all other characters © Square Enix

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Below is an excerpt from my personal fan fic of Tiffaunie's story.
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It was clear that the archbishop was not going to listen to anything Ser Aymeric said. Tiffaunie glanced over at Haurchefant, and he turned to meet her gaze. There was no need for words to pass between them. Ser Aymeric was in no condition to take action, and Lucia wasn’t going to leave his side as long as there remained any chance of threat from the Heaven’s Ward. And while Estinien had joined them on this rescue, she didn’t know whether his loyalties extended to a direct assault against the archbishop himself. 

Haurchefant nodded, and so did she. If Archbishop Thordan was to be prevented from escaping, it would be up to them.

In unison, they dashed forward down the gantry, neither one aware of the deadly menace that had been watching and waiting for them to make their move. From a parapet high above, a gargantuan knight raised his fist, and a lance of pure, white-hot aether took shape. The knight reared back, and then hurled it at the Warrior of Light’s back.

Tiffaunie had outpaced Haurchefant by no more than a few steps, but it was enough for him to notice the bright flash of light reflected against her back. He turned his head in time to see the lance begin its deadly flight.

“Look out!” he cried, dashing towards her as he hefted his shield.

Tiffaunie jerked to a stop, spinning back to face the unexpected attack, only to be pushed back as Haurchefant shoved her out of the projectile’s path. He turned, shield raised, and Tiffaunie reflexively threw her arms up over her eyes as the lance struck the shield with a blinding flash of light. The air around them sizzled and scorched as the unholy weapon pressed towards its prey, but even as she heard the unmistakable sound of buckling metal, she knew with a sickening certainty that Haurchefant had no intention of allowing it to find its mark.

“HAURCHEFANT!” she screamed as the shield failed, and Tiffaunie watched in horror as the lance ripped through both it and her beloved before plunging into the stone inches in front of her. Having fulfilled its murderous purpose, the lance disintegrated back into the air from whence it had been drawn, and, in what felt like slow motion, she watched blood spray from his lips as Haurchefant collapsed at her feet.

Tiffaunie stood in shock, her eyes slowly rising until she beheld the unknown figure that had launched the attack. The knight simply stared impassively down at the damage he had wrought, his identity hidden behind his visor.

“Lord Haurchefant!” she heard Ser Aymeric cry out, and looked down to see Lucia and Estinien racing towards them, with the Lord Commander stumbling behind. All thought of the Archbishop and their attacker vanished as her legs turned to water, and she fell to her hands and knees. Estinien reached them first. He knelt and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her roughly upright as he looked to see if she had been hit as well.

She struggled against his grip, trying to turn to Haurchefant. Lucia stood beside him, holding Ser Aymeric’s arm as he lowered himself to the ground at the fallen lord’s side. Heedless of his own pain, the Lord Commander took hold of Haurchefant and pulled him up against his knees.

Haurchefant’s eyes flickered open, and a wild hope surged in Tiffaunie’s breast as she realized that he still lived. His gaze flit from one face to another until it found hers, and a faint smile curled his bloodstained lips.

“Tiff…” he gasped, fighting for breath. “You…you are unharmed? F-forgive me…I could not bear the thought of…of…”

Tiffaunie wanted to scream that the reverse was just as unbearable, but her throat felt choked. Quickly, she gathered strength from the air and stone, green aether coalescing around her hands as, heedless of the blood which instantly covered them, she pressed them against the vicious wound which had torn him open. She could hear the faint voices of the elements as the magick flowed into him, and almost immediately the timbre of their song took on a mournful tone. There was nothing they could do.

He struggled to raise his hand to her and, the movement snapping her attention away from his wound, Tiffaunie quickly caught it up with both of her own. She quailed at how weakly his hand gripped hers, and tears began streaming down her cheeks as her heart fought to deny what her mind knew was coming.

“Oh, do not look at me so,” he whispered, his voice managing to still inflect a hint of the bright, cheerful optimism which she so loved him for. “A smile better suits…a hero…”

She had never been able to tell him no, and this final request would be no exception. Though she could not stop the tears from flowing, she nodded and poured every drop of love from every fiber of her being into a smile which she hoped would tell him just how much she loved him.

For a moment his eyes lit up with joy, and he gave her one final smile which left no doubt how much he loved her, too. Then he sighed and his hand went limp in hers, the life fading from his eyes as his head rolled back against Ser Aymeric’s arm…and he was gone.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Estinien was the first to hear the sound of rapidly approaching footfalls, and he stood and turned, drawing his lance and placing himself between the mourners and the new arrival. From the shadows of the doorway, a temple knight rushed into the fading light. He stopped abruptly, unprepared to find himself face to face with a hostile Azure Dragoon.

“M-my lord!” he exclaimed, holding his empty hands up to show he bore no weapon.

Estinien relaxed his stance, then straightened and returned his lance to his back. “What is it?” he demanded, his usually gruff voice even harsher now.

 

“I…w-we…the Lord Commander i-is needed…” he stammered. From where they still knelt, Ser Aymeric and Lucia had also turned to look at the knight, and the latter swiftly rose to her feet.

“Sergeant, report!” Lucia snapped, and her command succeeded in breaking the knight out of his shock. He stiffened and saluted.

“There is fighting breaking out between the temple knights, my lady,” he announced. “The Heaven’s Ward are nowhere to be found, and Captain Guillaume believes that only the presence of the Lord Commander will make everyone stand down. He sent me to find him.”

Estinien took a step sideways and turned to see what Ser Aymeric’s response would be. He heard a startled gasp come from the knight as his movement revealed the terrible scene which had been mostly concealed behind him. Ser Aymeric looked down at the body of his friend which still lay propped up against him, and he seemed torn on whether to go or stay.

“Give him to me and go,” an unfamiliar voice commanded, and it took Estinien a moment to realize that it had been the Warrior of Light who had spoken. Her words were cold and leaden and as unyielding as stone, and Estinien felt certain that her words had been meant for all of them.

Ser Aymeric blinked in surprise, but nodded. Seeing his acquiescence, Estinien joined in helping Lucia shift Haurchefant’s body into Tiffaunie’s lap, noticing that he was not the only one who couldn’t bring himself to look at her face. Once he was free of their fallen comrade’s weight, Ser Aymeric pushed himself to his feet and nodded to the temple knight.

“Thank you…Ser Oshoux, isn’t it?” he said, addressing the young knight, who quickly nodded. “Lead on.”

Estinien hesitated as the other three began making their way back inside the Vault. Despite Ser Aymeric’s and Lucia’s apparent willingness to leave the Warrior of Light to her grief, some instinct made him resist. Used to trusting his gut, the Azure Dragoon made a snap decision and strode quickly after the others as they disappeared inside.

“Aymeric…” he called out quietly once he was sure his voice would not reach outside. The Lord Commander paused to look back, his expression questioning.

“I’m staying,” Estinien said. Lucia frowned, and looked like she was about to object, but he raised a hand to cut her off. “Just in case,” he continued. Lucia did not appear convinced, but Ser Aymeric nodded slowly.

“We’ll return once matters have been settled,” he replied.

Estinien nodded and turned back to the doorway, but did not leave the deepening shadows. From where he stood he could clearly see the length of the long stone gantry and its tragic occupants. Tiffaunie still sat where they had left her, though she had pulled Lord Haurchefant close up against her chest so that his head rested against her shoulder. The sound of heartbroken sobbing on the breeze made it clear that whatever thin shell of control had kept her anguish in check had crumbled with their departure.

As he stood his vigil, the setting sun slowly dipped beneath the horizon, and the light took on a deeper and deeper shade of red. It seemed to the Azure Dragoon that the grey stone had, like his armor, become drenched in blood.

“Appropriate…” he muttered to himself.

The feeling of unease which had prompted him to remain behind had not gone away, though, and Estinien frowned as he realized that it was instead growing stronger. He turned his gaze to the skies, the first place all Ishgardians looked for danger, but if anything lurked out there it was well hidden in the heavy clouds which had rolled in.

He paused. Hadn’t the skies been clear when he had followed the others inside? The breeze had picked up and started whistling across the doorframe, too, and moments later it starting carrying with it flurries of snow. Before the thought that he had never seen a storm appear so suddenly could do more than cross Estinien’s mind, a sudden flash of heat brushed past his face, and he found himself staring in shock as first one, and then another, and then more thin tendrils of flame were whipped along on the wind. He looked back at Tiffaunie, and recoiled with a startled gasp.

The wind which now gusted past him was only the edge of an unnatural vortex of snow and fire which had formed out on the gantry with the Warrior of Light in its eye. Arcs of violet lightning crackled amongst the ice and flame, and Estinien could feel the very stone beneath his feet trembling. It was a storm of elements the likes of which the Azure Dragoon had never seen or heard, and it was growing stronger with every passing moment.

Though it had become increasingly difficult for him to see through it, Tiffaunie appeared oblivious to the tempest around her. She still clung tightly to her fallen mate, her red-gold hair lifting and falling on the wind like living flame. Suddenly, a piercing green light burst from the eye of the storm, and the Azure Dragoon fought the urge to reach for his lance as a feeling of dread rushed through him.

Over the howling of the wind, Estinien heard a high-pitched, keening wail of anguish tear from what he could at this point only assume was the Warrior of Light’s throat. That sound alone would have been enough to make his skin crawl, but something else accompanied that cry…something which the Azure Dragoon was all too familiar with the feeling of.

One of the great wyrms had roared.

It had been faint, like an echo, but still unmistakable. Something about this was different, though. Always before, he had felt Nidhogg’s furious roars through his connection to the Eye. This time, he was sure that the feeling had instead come from within himself, and rather than the hatred and rage that came from the Eye, this sensation had been one of terror and pain.

 

 

Estinien found he wouldn’t have time just yet to ponder on this unexpected development. The vortex had become a raging maelstrom which was expanding at an alarming rate, green light still pulsing from within. He braced himself against the trembling stone of the doorway, his vision blurring as his eyes stung from the heat that buffeted him. Though he knew that his pulse was racing, the sound of his heartbeat echoed in his ears like the slow beat of a drum, as if the sound of that roar had made time itself slow. The storm was almost upon him, and he reached for the Eye, hoping that he could use its power…that its power would be enough…to shield himself from this storm as he had been able to against Nidhogg’s inferno.

Before the flames could reach him another roar echoed. This one he heard rather than felt, and with a shock he realized that the voice was one he recognized. Hraesvelgr! Then a third roar sounded, unknown and barely audible.

The flames stopped growing, as if whatever force had been driving them had hesitated. A fourth voice joined the others. The hair on the back of Estinien’s neck rose at the sound. This one did not roar, but sounded more like a deep, rumbling growl, and unlike the other two which had echoed from a great distance, this one was close. Very close.

The green light flashed defiantly, and the deep voice answered with a commanding snarl. For a moment Estinien felt a surge of power he could find no words to describe, then the scorching heat abruptly vanished. Estinien blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, and for a moment he thought he caught a glimpse of green wings in what had been the eye of the inferno. When he blinked again, though, they were gone, as were all traces of the storm except for the now gently falling snow.

Out on the gantry, Tiffaunie still sat holding Haurchefant, though she was now slumped forward over him. He could see her shoulders rising and falling in deep, gasping breaths. Several minutes passed as Estinien struggled to makes sense of what he had borne witness to, but just as he made the decision to go demand answers from her, he heard the ringing sounds of steel-shod feet running through the halls.

“Damn,” he cursed. Glancing around the dimly lit interior, he spied a cloth covering the altar and snatched it up without hesitation, heedless of the fine silver candlesticks and holy instruments which went crashing to the floor. The clamor, as he had intended it to, startled Tiffaunie, who jerked upright as Estinien came striding towards her.

“We have company,” he said curtly. Her eyes were glassy and disturbingly vacant, but she offered no resistance as he lifted Haurchefant off of her and laid him out flat on the stone. He draped the cloth over the body, then looked down at her.

“Wipe your face, woman,” he ordered coldly. Over the course of their weeks traveling together, the Azure Dragoon had come to respect the enigmatic foreigner who had become his comrade, and had there been more time he might have attempted to take a more gentle approach. But the others would be here any moment, and, even if she had just tried to incinerate him, he felt he owed it to her to try to preserve at least some of her dignity.

Tiffaunie blinked, looking a little startled, but his words succeeded in rousing her from her stupor, and she did as he had commanded. He pulled her to her feet and gave her a stern nod as she took several deep breaths, appearing to regain a measure of composure.

The clatter of steel on stone heralded the arrival of a full squad of temple knights, led by Lucia. Estinien did not miss the look of relief that flashed across her face when she saw them. He frowned, realizing that what had just taken place had affected more than just himself.

“Praise Halone,” she said as they drew near. “We feared the worst, after…” She paused as Estinien quickly shook his head.

“Save it for later,” he said quickly.

Lucia gave him a look which was both confused and annoyed, but nodded. Her gaze flit down the shrouded body and then back up. “My men will see to Lord Haurchefant. Ser Aymeric has gone ahead to Fortemps Manor…he bid me ask that we join him there.”

“Of course,” Estinien replied. He turned to Tiffaunie and gestured for her to precede him, sure that she would need some prompting to compel her to leave. She closed her eyes and took another deep, shuddering breath, but did not refuse.

Lucia waited a moment as the temple knights set about carefully shifting Lord Haurchefant’s body onto a pallet they had brought with them, her sharp gaze taking note of the scorch marks on the stone which had not been there earlier. Then she turned and followed.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Tataru knew that by now she should be used to sitting and waiting for her friends to return from their missions, but she could never get over the anxiety that came over her every time they left while she remained behind. While she was no longer plagued by feelings of uselessness, having to wait and hope that her friends came back, knowing she was powerless to help make sure they did, was hard.

So it was that when the doors to Fortemps Manor opened, she leapt from the chair where she had been restlessly waiting, eager for news.

“Ser Aymeric!” she squealed excitedly, rushing across the foyer. “I just knew they’d get you back safe and sou…” She stopped short with a gasp, catching sight of the bloodstains on his armor.

Having heard the commotion, Alphinaud came in and his eyes also widened in shock at the sight of the condition Ser Aymeric was in. “My Lord,” he exclaimed, hurrying over. “What has happened? Are you alright? Where are…?”

Ser Aymeric held up a hand to stop him. “The others will be here shortly,” he assured them, his expression solemn. “I must go speak with the Count.”

He gave them no time for further questions, and Tataru looked anxiously from his departing back over to Alphinaud. His concerned expression did nothing to help alleviate the anxiety that made her feel like she was about to burst. She reluctantly returned to her chair, fidgeting fretfully as the minutes crept by and watching as Alphinaud paced.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doors swung open again as Lucia, Estinien, and Tiffaunie arrived. Tataru and Alphinaud raced over, both exclaiming in dismay when they saw Tiffaunie’s robes soaked in blood.

“Don’t worry…it’s not hers,” Lucia said quietly.

Tataru reached up to touch Tiffaunie’s bloody hand, and shuddered at the haunted look on her friend’s face when she turned to look down at her.

“Ser Aymeric arrived a short time ago,” Alphinaud said, looking at Lucia. “But he went straight to see Count Edmont, and didn’t tell us anything. What happened, my lady?”

“We succeeded in freeing the Lord Commander,” she said, her tone somber. “We were unable to stop the Archbishop and the Heaven’s Ward from fleeing, though. The rest should wait until we join Ser Aymeric and the Count.”

“Perhaps we should give Lady A'renaitre a chance to change and wash up,” Estinien interjected. “It would probably be best for the Count to not see her like…this.”

Something about his tone made shivers run down Tataru’s spine.

Lucia looked at him and slowly nodded. “I think you’re right,” she agreed. She gestured to one of the manservants who waited nearby, and he bowed and led Tiffaunie off in the direction of the rooms which had been given to them. Tataru watched them go, and was looking back up at those who remained when it occurred to her that someone was missing. A lump formed in her throat.

“Where is Lord Haurchefant?” she asked in a small voice, barely louder than a whisper.

Estinien and Lucia both looked away, unable to meet her gaze.  A gasp came from Alphinaud. “N-no, you can’t mean…” he stammered.

Tears welled up in Tataru’s eyes, and her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she looked back and forth between Estinien and Lucia, praying for it to not be true.

“He fell,” Lucia finally said, still looking away.

A whimper of dismay escaped from Tataru’s throat as Alphinaud took a ragged breath.

“We should join the Count and not tell this sad tale more than once,” Estinien said gruffly. Without waiting for either answer or objection, he strode across the room in the direction Ser Aymeric had gone earlier, and with heavy hearts the rest followed.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Tiffaunie sat on the edge of the bed she had shared just the night before with Haurchefant, her freshly washed hands resting on her bare thighs as the maidservant bundled up her ruined robes. She felt so numb, bereft of hope and purpose. Her throat felt raw, her eyes swollen and puffy from crying. The serving girl had done her best to soothe them with a cool wet cloth, but still they burned.

How had victory turned to defeat so quickly? Nidhogg was no more, the war won, and their hopes for a future together had finally been dawning on the horizon. She clenched her hands into fists, heedless of the physical pain as her sharp nails dug into the soft flesh of her palms. Ishgard was free, but she no longer found any joy in that knowledge.

Tiffaunie looked up as the girl came bustling back in with her arms full of an assortment of gowns and robes.

“Might one of these be to your liking, mistress?” she asked demurely, going about laying the clothing out on the other side of the bed.

Stiffly, Tiffaunie shifted to turn around and attempted to feign some interest in the apparel. They were all beautiful, things she would have enjoyed wearing only a few hours earlier. She sighed, knowing the girl was trying to help her, but she found herself unable to bear the thought of wearing anything laid out for her.

She looked up at the maid, trying to find the right words for an apology, and noticed that the girl still had something draped over an arm.

“What is that?” she asked, pointing.

The girl looked embarrassed. “Oh, I don’t know why I grabbed this old thing…” she stammered.

“Show me,” Tiffaunie demanded, her voice hard. “Please,” she quickly added, softening her tone and forcing a slight smile to her lips as she realized how harsh she must have sounded.

Hesitantly, the girl pulled the long black robe off her arm and held it up for appraisal.

“Yes, that will do,” Tiffaunie said with a nod.

“But…my lady…” the maid tried to protest, but a look flashed across the Warrior of Light’s face, and her objections died on her lips. Tiffaunie stood and allowed the girl to help her into the heavy felted robe. Silently, she rummaged in a drawer and produced trousers and a pair of tall, black boots, which Tiffaunie awkwardly pulled on.

As she finished, she felt the cool touch of metal against her forehead as the girl slipped a circlet over her head, and turned with a questioning look. The maid blushed. “I-I’m  sorry…I thought it would look nice…” she murmured.

Tiffaunie glanced at the mirror in the corner. The blue and gold circlet did go well with the robes.

“Thank you, Elsette,” she said softly.

She closed her eyes and took a long, shuddering breath, mustering as much courage as she could find.

“I should join the others…” she said finally, rising and heading for the door, which Elsette quickly opened for her.

It wasn’t a long walk back to the foyer, but Tiffaunie felt like her legs were made of lead. She arrived in time to see Ser Aymeric, Lucia, and Estinien departing. The Azure Dragoon paused in the doorway when he saw her.

“They’re waiting for you,” he said, looking her over with an approving nod before continuing on his way.

She turned and made straight for the doors leading back into the parlor, knowing that if she hesitated she risked losing her resolve. The manservant silently opened the door for her.

Inside, she saw that Alphinaud and Tataru, as well as Ser Artoirel and Emmanellain, were gathered. All of them turned to look at her, their expressions mournful. Tataru started to approach, but that was when Tiffaunie caught sight of Lord Edmont standing off to one side, staring out a window. Her knees trembled, but she swallowed hard and started walking over.

“Please. Don’t,” Lord Edmont said, his voice thick with emotion.

She stopped dead in her tracks, feeling like she had just taken a punch to the gut, and her eyes burned as more tears threatened to spring forth.

“A knight lives to serve. To protect. To sacrifice. There is no greater calling,” Lord Edmont continued on, echoing the words Haurchefant has spoken just earlier that very day, oblivious to how his every word felt like a knife in Tiffaunie’s breast. He took a ragged breath. “Leave me to mourn, and give chase. For my son, and for the nation he loved. Go.”

The anguish in the count’s voice was overwhelming, and it rolled over Tiffaunie like a wave. Her chest felt so tight that she struggled to breathe. No one present was immune. His remaining sons bowed their heads in grief. Tataru covered her face and started crying softly. Alphinaud struggled to find something to say.

“…his sacrifice shall not be forgotten,” he finally said quietly.

Count Edmont’s cane clattered to the floor as he collapsed to his knees, overcome by his sorrow. “My…son…” he wept.

Tiffaunie could bear no more. Choking back her own sobs, she turned and fled.