bliss [drabble #36]

Anastasius de Lageary was born a miracle. Ser Julien de Lageary, a noble of House Durendaire and overseer of the defense of Dragonhead's observatorium, had finally produced an heir. A newborn son was cause for celebration in Ishgardian tradition, with especially high expectations held for the child of one of Dragonhead's most skilled commanders against dragonkind. The boy was to be raised in the highest standard suited to his rank, schooled in politics and etiquette throughout the day, and trained in the art of the lance by the light of the setting sun. Ser Julian was a stern and unforgiving teacher, claiming that "the dragons will show you no pity, thus nor shall I." Anastasius grew to wield the lance well enough, but only after the help of a few lashes. The boy lived this way until adolescence, each night kneeling on the floor and praying to Halone that by the next sun's rise he might not open his eyes again.

He did have little comforts, however. Anastasius had two older sisters, whom he was only allowed to see on rare weekends and holidays. No matter what his family wanted him to think, Felicity, the eldest, was his true role model. She was the darling of the courting scene, known to have the voice of an angel and the most nimble feet to ever grace Ishgard's ballrooms. His other sister, Rosette, was rather skilled on the lute and taught Anastasius the folksongs and ballads she picked up from days wandering the Jeweled Crozier or sneaking into taverns to listen to the bards. The boy's heart panged with envy at his sisters' freedoms, but he never once wished for either of them to take his place.

Alongside his beloved dancing and music lessons from his sisters, Anastasius harbored one secret all to himself. At around age 14, he carefully concocted a route that allowed him to slip out of their Ishgardian home unnoticed in the dead of night. Not the kind to hunt for mischief, he only ever used these excursions to visit the outskirts of the city. From his favorite perch on a wall by the airship landing, he could watch the rolling expanse of the Sea of Clouds tumble by against the starry sky. And one day, by the grace of that sky, he made a friend.

After a month or so of watching the stars every other night, Anastasius began to feel watched. Not in the way guards sent by his father would, luckily. His suspicions were later confirmed by a single sesame cookie carefully wrapped in a handkerchief, left on his usual perch. The stranger had made the first move, or so he could only assume. Anastasius was delighted, having been given a new reason to wake in the morn. Before his next jaunt, he made sure to nab a sweet popoto roll from the kitchens and an extra kerchief.

This game continued for the next week, the desserts slowly becoming larger and more extravagant as the nights passed (at one point, half a holiday cake sat on the wall). Anastasius despised practicing for battle, but sillier competitions were another story. Their playful rivalry came to a climax when the young Elezen managed to sneak out early enough to catch his equal. He was surprised to spot a young lad no older than he, waif-like with long, velvety black locks. He'd never seen a boy so pretty, and when the stranger turned to gaze upon him with those lonely blue eyes that would make the skies weep in jealousy, Anastasius wanted nothing more than to stand by his side forever.

That night, with the lights of the heavens twinking their blessings, the two boys broke bread. Pumpkin bread, to be precise. It was the happiest moment Anastasius would experience for many a year more. The other was of low status, but with big dreams. He wanted to raise through the ranks to become a proper knight, proving his worth to his family and the entire city. When he mentioned Ser Julien's outspoken distaste for the people of the Brume, Anastasius held his tongue. What reason did he have to defend a man who had brought him only strife? He only smiled silently, entranced by the boy's spritely chattering and gesturing. Eventually the high-born, after being famously soft-spoken and passive since childhood, opened up. He shared tales from his training in the snowy highlands to the dress-up games he'd play with Felicity in her flouncy ball gowns. It was a great relief to be able to talk to someone who he knew would not judge him nor report anything back to his family. For a brand new reason, Anastasius dreaded the sun's arrival.

To this day he wonders about that boy, even after years of traveling and concocting a new identity. He never caught his name. The next morning he was given a stern talking-to by the guards who had noticed him sneak out early, and for the rest of his remaining years in Ishgard his door was under heavy surveillance.
On his worst nights in battlefield tents, they're the sorts of memories he uses to stay grounded. Occasionally he sees that raven hair in dreams, a small hand pressing the folded handkerchief into the grown Warrior of Light's trembling palm, rough from years of callusing and scarring.
Every time, Aengus wakes up with a sweet taste on his lips.