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haurchefant is so warm and gentle. the idea of trudging through snow and storm doesn’t seem so bad if you know that he will be there to greet you at camp dragonhead, for the elezen welcomes you with such hospitable fervor and a smile so bright you could forget all about the bitter cold gnawing at your skin not a few moments ago. any lingering numbness will be washed away with the hot coacoa he so swiftly prepares, though whether it is the heat of the drink or the love put into it that produces the tingling sensation of all-encompassing warmth remains to be determined.
his presence soothes the aches of your heart, his comfort a balm to your every ailment. in front of haurchefant’s hearth, wrapped in a woolen blanket and the warmth of his care, you find solace. this is the safest you have ever felt.
you always find yourself falling asleep right there, curled up on the floor with the blanket hugged tight around your body, entirely relaxed next to the fire save for the intermittent shiver. and the lord haurchefant tends to the fire as he tends to you, looking on his warrior of light with a smile bereft of all worry or sorrow. for it is because of you that he fosters hope for the realm; it is for your cause that he longs to fight. thus he, as a humble bystander in your story, will do aught he can to make your journey more comfortable.
to you, however, he is much more than a mere onlooker; yet the yearning in your heart to express such a sentiment does naught to supply you words with which to speak it. so you run to him in all moments of excess, and you gift him with smiles and souvenirs, in the naive hope that haurchefant will understand the depth of your fondness for him. you feel that he surely must know it after all these days you have spent in his vicinity, leeching off his presence and stealing the warmth from his hearth! oh, for haurchefant to only understand his own impact, to see himself as you did.
since the day he lent you his chocobo whistle, you have traveled with no other mount. you have loved and cherished his chocobo companion as if it were an extension of the man, but also as a beloved new friend of your own. every time you look upon it you cannot help but be reminded of the affable elezen you are so inclined to adore; of his past he divulged to you, of how he has cared for this chocobo since its days as the unwanted runt. haurchefant’s towering size and position juxtapose so greatly with his personality, his kindness and warmth—it’s why you have cherished his presence so much, even from the very first time you set foot in his camp. for a great knight and warrior—with a painful and difficult past, no less—to possess such an easy, compassionate demeanor…to say you have merely admired him for it would perhaps be a grave offense to the truth.
how you have longed secretly in your heart of hearts to stay with haurchefant forever, even to forsake your duty for it; how often you wished the selfish wish to live as a normal person. alas, it would never be, but precious time spent with haurchefant could almost make you feel as if you were but a passing traveler of no importance or responsibility. each mundane moment with him feels like restoration to your soul, as if he tends to your humanity to remind you of its existence; you experience an emotional jolt from just the brush of his gloved finger as he passes you your second mug of hot coacoa. the warrior of light, burdened with the weight of the world, is a mere human, not at all exempt from feeling such fleeting frivolities. it brings the elezen surmounting satisfaction to know he bears witness to such a great hero’s personal and vulnerable moments.
conversation with haurchefant is the only conversation you can never seem to tire of, for his voice is like honeyed confection to your ears. but should you chance to truly run out of things to talk about, his presence demands nothing—with him, it is easy to be quiet, and easy to be at ease.
he has a collection of literature in the study at camp dragonhead, and he lets you peruse at your leisure; you do, and you bring back a fine selection to read before the hearth in your moments of rest. he works, sometimes brewing more hot coacoa, sometimes fetching you snacks—until you grow sleepy, and in your dreary stupor, you bleat at him to sit by your side. of course, he does. how shall he refuse you?
a while is spent merely staring into the flames, another while studying his face (during which he seems to grow endearingly flustered, yet emboldened)—then, in a mellow proclamation of affection, you shuffle a tad closer and lean against his sturdy frame. perhaps you would have put your head on his shoulder rather than his bicep were he not an elezen or you not a comparatively short race.
it takes the lord haurchefant no time at all to melt into it, as if he had been yearning for a moment like this himself, or waiting for one clear signal to resolve that acting on his emotions would not be untoward—for long had he harbored strong admiration for you, so much that it could hardly be called mere admiration. ever the lofty romantic, haurchefant dreamt of knowing you in a different time, as different people. the same people, but with different roles and responsibilities—for he longed to be able to court you properly, to ask for your hand, to know you intimately. were the circumstance different, were it not unwise for the hero of eorzea to tangle romantically with any one person, perhaps he would have been more forward with his emotions.
but for one moment, in a private guest quarter at camp dragonhead, it was easy to pretend those dreams of loving you could become reality. it was something the two of you took care to relish in.
after removing his gloves and chainmail for comfort, he carefully lifts and places you in front of him, your back to his chest; like a shield, his body cradles you, his touch yet soft, as if he were afraid of such closeness when he could never truly have you—yet so the courageous and powerful warrior of light falls into slumber with embarrassing ease, lulled by haurchefant’s steady breathing and gentle embrace.
“forgive me, little sprout; i am but a selfish fool,”haurchefant murmurs bashfully in reflection of this indulgence, though his warrior of light does not hear. but perhaps his words echo somewhere in the back of your mind, and you shall understand his vulnerable mumblings when you awaken:
“…i often feel in my heart a deep yearning to have more of you, to have you forever…but i believe this here to be enough.”
perhaps, if you were listening, you’d hear the hitch in his breath, the hesitation gurgling in his throat, and how he persisted; perhaps you would perceive the shift in his tone, the exact moment when it almost became too much for him before he steeled his will like so:
“i shall not allow my personal feelings to be a stumbling block in your path—i am satisfied to be as but a witness to your story.”
and by chance, if you were still listening, you would feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back return to its normal cadence, as if confessing such things helped to make them true; and should you happen to shift in your slumber, you would feel his embrace tighten, as if he were not truly satisfied, but determined to be satisfied for you. and then, if perhaps you had such a keen ear as to pick up all of these things, you would then hear his final words, smothered as they were into your hair:
“…but perhaps…in another…we were lovers.”