[How safe it feels, to be covered over like this by the tender shield of Haurchefant's body — and better still that the only dangers here are the phantoms of memory that threaten to steal him away, and not the terrible lightning of the Heaven's Ward. Full rare is it that Aymeric allows himself to relax enough to indulge even a moment like this, but surely if there were ever a time that such respite was warranted, surely it must be now.

And so, weakly, he runs the tips of his fingers along the mail Haurchefant still wears, feeling each battle-burnished ring in the slim space left between them as their lips meet and bodies gravitate together. Haurchefant bears the shame of bastardry they share so much more nobly than he ever could, enough so that one could almost pardon it rather than merely feigning ignorance to it, but in the end it is all they are: two bastards with noble fathers, tucked away on an infirmary cot where none shall look or see.]

Haurchefant —

[He manages to work a hand free, sliding it first up Haurchefant's side and then to his arm, until finally he can settle his long capable fingers at the back of his friend's neck.]

Then as you cherish me, I shall show you all the fondness that others before me have held back.

[His thumb moves slightly, running the edge of Haurchefant's sensitive ear.]

For I am fond. So very...so very fond.