Chapter Text
Many years ago…
Moonlight fell in bright rays through the scaffolding above, barely illuminating the night darkened streets of the Brume. The silver orb stood high in the sky, driving back the deepest shadows that usually ruled this part of the town as soon as darkness fell.
Although summers in Ishgard would never be described as hot, it had been an uncommonly balmy day, a slight remnant of that warmth still lingering in the stone foundations, wafting as a soft breeze between the decrepit buildings.
The streets were silent and still, only the occasional lone silhouette scurrying by, or a hooded figure moving drunkenly from alley to alley. The wooden support beams crisscrossing above looked ghostly white in the silvery light, reminiscent of some giant beast’s skeleton. They were never going to be finished buildings - at least she very much doubted they would be. Much more likely that they would fall into disrepair, forgotten and left to their own devices.
But the scaffolding was a perfect climbing ground, if one knew which beams were sturdy and safe to run. For a scrawny little girl who’d spent all of her twelve years exploring these very streets, most of these sojourns were yet another adventure to be had.
With a practiced jump, Orenthia landed on one of the beams connecting the run-down building where she lived with the slightly better-looking one across the street. She skipped across the large gap without bothering about the thirty fulm fall she might take should her feet lose purchase. Her young heart knew no such fears. It flew even ahead of her feet, and they were dangerously swift already.
When she had traversed the distance between the two buildings, she continued along the eaves, balancing herself with one hand on the worn tiles of the crooked roof rising to her left. Orenthia quickly came to a small window framed by half-cracked tiles and tapped her knuckles against the murky glass. Only a heartbeat later, the window was opened to reveal a young Elezen boy, his dense silvery-blue hair chaotic around his laughing face.
“Hello, little raven.” He beamed up at her so brightly and openly that her cheeks turned pink, and she surreptitiously tried to smooth her unruly hair - black as a raven’s wing, and clearly the reason for the fond nickname.
Dirty Brume rat, the well-dressed passersby called children like them. Torn clothes, faces smeared with grime and soot. She only had a vague understanding of the deeper reasons behind such hostility, and it made little sense to her. Her father might not have more than a few gil to his name, but even on nights when the cold crept through the cracked stones and they lacked firewood, his stories and smiles had kept them warm.
No brume rat epithets for Haurchefant though, not for the last five years, living with his noble father. She remembered being afraid when he went to live in the pillars, terrified that her best friend would be lost to her forever among the lofty heights of the nobility. Instead he had brought her a new companion in Francel, whose natural calm balanced his exuberance and her daring. The three had become nigh inseparable, days filled with adventure, the whole city a playground for their little trio of misfits, loyal and laughing, even though they were so inherently different. She and Haurchefant were likely more impish than was good for them, but they had Francel’s quiet thoughtfulness to curb their most foolhardy ideas.
Tilting her head questioningly, Orenthia looked down at the lanky boy in the window. The smile that came to her lips was uncharacteristically shy.
“Stargazing?”
His lively blue eyes twinkled in response, and without further ado he was climbing through the gap, somehow managing to fold his long limbs through the rather small opening of the window.
A bit of shuffling and fumbling and they had stretched out on the slanted roof side by side, gazes trained upon the dark, velvet tapestry of the sky above, with its myriad glimmering lights spreading across an endless dome.
Both of them knew this game by heart. Orenthia lifted her hand, pointing at a constellation.
“That one,” she declared. There was a moment of silence as Haurchefant seemed to ponder her choice.
“A chocobo,” he answered eventually, to which she scoffed.
“You chose chocobo last time!” Her accusing tone made him grin.
“I like chocobos,” he argued, his hand suddenly lifting to gently hook his forefinger around hers. She stilled, finger yet pointing to the sky, staring at their hands with the backdrop of the star-strewn canopy beyond them, her heart quickening with an unfamiliar feeling, something that felt like a flutter of countless small wings in her stomach.
The breath caught in her throat, yet somehow she found the courage to chance a sideways look at him. His eyes rested on her face with a fascination she couldn’t fathom, as if the sight was much more interesting than the mysteries found in the night sky. A strange mixture of embarrassment and leaping joy overcame her, and the urge to look away was almost as strong as the urge to hold his gaze.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet tonight. There is something I need to tell you…” He sounded more subdued than usual, almost tentative.
“Yeah?” Orenthia prompted him when he paused. Haurchefant seemed to hesitate for another moment, but then his lips formed a near-silly grin.
“My father spoke with me today. He… he says I’m going to become a knight.”
Orenthia blinked, the meaning of his words slow to sink in. When it did, she shot upright and uttered a delighted little cry.
“But that’s - that’s great! You always wanted to be a knight!”
In her coltish happiness, she flung her arms around him and hugged him close. He seemed briefly stunned before he returned the gesture with the same enthusiasm, and she felt his hand fleetingly ghost over her hair, almost in an afterthought.
For a long moment, they stayed like this, and Orenthia could have sworn she heard the unbridled kicks of his heart within the stillness of the summer night around them. Yet as she pulled back, a pang of trepidation went through her. Although she tried to hide it from him, Haurchefant noticed the slightest change in her demeanor, as always.
“Why do you look sad, Ren? I know you should get recognition, too, and I told father so. We both rescued Francel!” he said it fiercely, a familiar petulant anger in his tone. She shook her head, unwilling to cast a shadow over this joyful occasion for him. Besides, if her role in the whole thing were revealed, she’d have to explain it to her father, and she was fine never having to do that.
“No, it’s not that. I don’t care about that. Only Francel matters. It’s nothing,” she hurried to reassure him, but she should have known that he wouldn’t let it go so easily.
“Tell me,” he whispered softly, in that gentle, cajoling tone that had made her spill her secrets ever since she’d been quick enough to follow on his heels through the streets. He was two years older - almost fourteen - yet they were in that odd time of their youth when they were both still growing with alarming speed.
They were of a height now, but she was sure he’d overtake her soon enough. His familiar face was already losing its youthful roundness, changing into clean angles that hinted at the man he would grow to be. Sighing, Orenthia glanced at him awkwardly. He waited for her reply, patient.
“You’ll be a knight… and that’s wonderful…” she began, swallowing. “But… we’ll still be together, right?”
Never had she seen Haurchefant so stricken as in that moment. He gaped at her, his sapphire eyes wide and unblinking. It took a considerable amount of time until he regained his composure, but when he did, his gaze turned intense and determined.
“We will always be together. And that’s a knight’s promise.”
The exuberance of his vow was such that Orenthia ducked her head and suppressed a nervous snicker.
“I’m serious,” he said with a hint of indignation. “Here, I even have something to seal my vow.”
Now it was her turn to be stunned, when he pulled a small item from his pocket and held it out to her, the flush of his cheeks visible even in the pale moonlight. Orenthia looked down at his open palm, dumbstruck by what she saw.
It was a necklace with a simple black cord that held a humble onyx pendant, cut into the shape of a raven and polished to a gleam. ‘Twas unadorned and just a bit clumsy, but therein lay its charm. She loved it.
“Haurchefant, this… this is too much,” she stammered, the words tripping over each other. The quick glance she threw him was on some middle-ground between bashful and dubious. “You didn’t… steal this, right?”
The question wasn’t posed quite seriously. Haurchefant huffed out a breath.
“You wound me, my raven lady! I made it myself,” he stated in the perfect imitation of a scandalized lordling. Yet hidden within his humor was a spark of genuine honesty. Orenthia’s gaze skittered away from his, and she scoffed in a decidedly self-deprecating manner. Fury knew too well, she was the furthest thing from a lady.
“You are a lady to me,” he said in answer to her scoff.
His voice was so low it was barely audible, the tone soft and yet resolute, allowing no objection or doubt. She felt herself blushing again, as she had several times already, and her mind was still nervously searching for a reply when he let out a small, almost impatient sigh. Ever hard-pressed to keep his excitement contained, he unceremoniously draped the necklace over her head, lifting away the chaotic tangle of her hair.
After a breathless moment of looking at the pendant, she dared to meet his eyes, just about catching the flash of juvenile pride in them. An instant later, his features softened and he regarded her with a sincere affection that brought back the swooping flock of birds to her stomach in full force.
It felt like something was about to happen, something momentous and terrifying and great, and she had no clue what to do, or say, if anything -
“What… what are you thinking?” she blurted the question, unable to bear the strange, frantic giddiness that had suddenly taken control of her heartbeat. He seemed similarly caught in the magic of the moment, his eyes darting over her face uncertainly, as if he couldn’t decide where to look.
“I think… I should like to -” He stopped, his voice wavering. “May I… may I kiss you?”
The air whooshed from her lungs. Her lips parted in shock, her mind losing track of all thoughts.
“A-alright.”, she managed, inwardly cursing at how squeaky and stupid she must sound, but there was hardly any time to ponder this because he leaned towards her, his face moving closer and closer. Then he stopped abruptly.
“Close your eyes?” he murmured hesitantly, looking just as nervous as she felt.
This was silly, she thought inanely as her lids fell shut, her heart making wild attempts to jump up into her throat when she felt his lips brush over hers ever so gently. Neither of them really knew what they were doing - an inept first attempt of a kiss, light and innocent, clumsy. Their noses bumping into each other as they tried to find the right angle, his fingers trembling as they tentatively touched her cheek and her hand fluttering awkwardly over his shoulder.
And yet, how unbearably sweet it was, perfect in its youthful naivety, exhilarating and new.
A dozen images rushed through her, wonderful little memories of sharing a daringly nicked apple-pie, still warm inside, of being caught around the collar by him before she could fall through a hole between splintered floorboards, of him and Francel playing knights on the plaza before the Congregation, until the guardsmen shooed them away.
There came a moment when his forehead collided awkwardly with hers, the little mishap drawing a chuckle from both of them. Reluctantly it seemed, Haurchefant pulled back from her. He was grinning, his eyes fever-bright and just a little dazed, his cheeks flushed.
“Stargazing?” he asked then. Orenthia nodded.
Side by side, their hands now linked and fingers intertwined, they quietly watched the clear night sky, lying there on a decrepit rooftop in the poorest district of the great city of Ishgard. And she was… happy.
Surely, it wasn’t always easy. Sometimes she’d go to bed hungry, and sometimes a merchant would angrily chase her off for stealing scraps. Sometimes, a nobleman would shove her aside so he could pass, even though the streets were wide enough for everyone. But it was alright. On nights like these, none of that could reach her. She squeezed the warm hand wrapped around hers, and felt him return the pressure at once.
It seemed like Haurchefant was about to speak, yet a deep voice calling out over the rooftop made them both startle.
“Orenthia! Where are you?!”
She winced, her expression suddenly guilty. “Oh no, he sounds angry…” She raised her voice to reply: “I’m across the street, Papa! I -”
“Come back home at once.” Something in the harsh, almost desperate tone of his voice made her obey without questioning. Orenthia stood quickly, throwing an apologetic look at Haurchefant.
“Sorry… I have to go.” He flashed her his well-known, jovial smile in answer.
“That’s alright. There is always tomorrow.”
With a nod and a wave, she turned away from him to cross over the support beam and back home again, wondering vaguely what might have caused her father to sound so urgent. And as she threw a look back at the lanky figure disappearing through the window, she had the strangest feeling, a sudden, fearful pain clutching at her heart, as though she might not see him again for a very, very long time.
Her intuition would prove right, for the next day Orenthia and her father fled the Holy See. She left behind not just her childhood home, her friends, everything she had known, but also that innocent first love, the boy whose laughter was like the sun. That, she would come to admit in the long years that followed, might just be the greatest loss of all.