Work Text:
When Haurchefant hands you the locket, you aren't exactly sure how to respond to the gift. It is nothing overt or ornate in make, simply made of a metal you can't identify all that well, and with the insignia of House Fortemps inlaid upon the front cover.
It hangs upon a simple metal chain and, when you glance inside, you find that it only contains an inscription on the inside in a language you can't quite understand even when you squint and turn it one direction or the next in your careful hands.
“It’s but an old saying in High Ishgardian my friend,” Haurchefant gently explains to you when you ask, a smile never leaving his lips as he guides your hands to clasp the locket between your fingers. The soft look in his eyes nearly makes your heart leap. “To serve as a blessing in keeping you safe wherever your journey leads you, especially since I cannot often join you myself.”
His words leave you with a warmth settled deep in your chest.
Haurchefant sees you off personally when your time with him wanes away, the visit to Camp Dragonhead far too short as they typically are, with every moment milked to make it last as long as possible.
When you bid your final farewells and promise to see him as soon as life allows, you can’t help but notice how his eyes flicker to where the locket sits at your collarbone. You can’t help but notice the glance linger,
How his lips twitch into a soft smile.
-
A moon or so later sees you in the marketplace in Ishgard, seeking out a particular fabric that Tataru swears to you that she needs and trusts solely in the hands of a merchant there. You’re not one to oft turn down the accountant’s wishes, especially when she asks favors of you so little, but you’re also happy in that it gives you the excuse to visit the Fortemps house, Aymeric, Estinien and Haurchefant alike.
It’s endearing in a way, how Ishgard has become so much like a second home to you, filled with a handful of people who care for you as deeply as they do.
It doesn’t take too long to find the merchant that Tataru had mentioned–she’s a kind older Elezen who takes the time not only to figure out the fabric you’ve been tasked to procure, but also to allow you a rather steep discount once she’s able to recognize your face.
“If there is no other way to show my gratitude for what you’ve done, then let it be to save you some gil,” she says with a laugh, folding up the bolts of fabric in a way that would be easiest to carry. “Though I’m surprised you have been able to keep news from spreading about your engagement.”
The woman’s words bring you pause, eyes blinking as you glance at her for several long, confused moments.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, so it was to be a secret? I promise I shan’t tell a soul, dear.”
“N-No I mean,” you fumble for words, trying not to sound embarrassed when you’re simply confused where the assumption came from. “I think you’ve the wrong idea somewhere, ma’am, I’m not engaged.”
Her eyes widen for a moment in surprise at your response, and only after tapping her hand at her lips does she press them to her hips and tilt her head in curiosity.
“Well, then it seems one of the Fortemps sons is a very forward man.”
“I still…don’t understand.”
“The locket you’re wearing, dear-” the woman points a finger to where the item sits at your collarbone, the very locket Haurchefant had given you. “-do you understand what that means?”
“I…no, I…was told it was more of a good-luck charm,” you aren’t sure whether to feel more confused or embarrassed, seeing the way the woman’s smile quirks. “There’s an inscription inside that I was told was a blessing to keep me uh…safe.”
“Ah, so whichever son gave it to you left out the most important detail of that item.”
“Which is?”
“Oh dear,” she chuckles, the curl of her lips reaching up to her eyes. “Lockets like that are end-of-courtship gifts. Though you don’t see them as often anymore with the younger generations, they were and often are to symbolize an engagement.”
You blink. Open your mouth, though no words fall out. You close your mouth and blink again. The words start to filter through your mind, though they don’t exactly hit you until a few moments after that, leaving you feeling hot in the face with the implications over the past several moons.
The way that Count Edmont had looked at you when you’d greeted him last, a peculiar look on his face when his eyes caught the locket around your neck.
“A gift?” he had asked, his tone curious in a way you now understand.
“Yes,” you’d told him, ignorant to what it really means, to what must have been felt when it was handed to you. “Haurchefant gave it to me.”
The smile that pulled across the man’s lips now make so much sense, to the point that you feel so beautifully like a lovestruck fool that you can only guess why Count Edmont hadn't thought to say something to you then.
You collect the fabric and bid the merchant a very short and admittedly hurried farewell, though she doesn’t seem to mind all that terribly–if anything, her gentle expression seems to linger even as you rush back off into the marketplace, mind now filled with clarity on something you had been so lost about.
But there’s one thing you know for sure that clings to your mind just as hard as the heat does to your cheeks.
Haurchefant has some explaining to do the next time you’re at Camp Dragonhead.