Notes: Mild Spoilers for Heavensward and Stormblood (if you squint really really hard). As always, thoughts and comments are welcome and appreciated!
Alphinaud's deep blue eyes gazed steadily in concentration. There was but one Scion in all of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn that commanded his complete fear...
Tataru Taru, a little woman on a mission, was the most dangerous of them all.
And the mischievous, conniving grin on her face spoke oh so much. Alphinaud felt this was worse than facing a Primal or even an Ascian.
Her eyes, much too bright, turned to him, her smile widening.
"I will take no excuses, Alphinaud!" She said, one finger in the air. "If we are to meet the demands of our adventures... we must have coin!"
The young platinum-haired Elezen ran a hand down his face.
Seven Hells, what was she to put them through now...?
#
Aymeric, Estinien, and Alphinaud were behind the Lord Commander's desk, staring at the small form of Tataru, her eagerness sending cold sweats down their backs. Ever since there was some measure of peace in Eorzea (for the moment), all who knew Tataru knew to fear her obstination and, gods forbid, her latest endeavor to find the Scions funding.
For his part, Aymeric cleared his throat, seeing he was the only one with enough willpower to speak up, if the looks on his friends' faces were any indication.
"So, what did you have in mind, Miss Tataru?" he asked, smoothing his hands over a forgotten report on his desk. "I was under the impression that weaving had been a great investment for you."
The proud Lalafell bounced on her feet, raising a hand in the air. Alphinaud's teeth grinded so hard that Aymeric wondered if he might have actually heard the gnashing. A sweat gathering on his brow, Aymeric shut his eyes, hoping (nay, praying) that it couldn't truly be that awful, that frightening. The fire in Tataru's eyes spoke to him, though, and he knew he was wrong.
"If it would be alright with the House of Lords and House of Commons, I, Tataru Taru, wish to hold a fashion show in Ishgard!"
It couldn't be that bad, it couldn't be terrible, Aymeric thought to himself, a litany of prayers to Halone and the rest of the Twelve. Certainly...
Estinien folded his arms, one eyebrow cocked to show the barest hints of irritation. And yet, Aymeric knew there could be only one answer.
"Of course. Perhaps it would be good for the economy of both your organization and our city... I'm sure merchants may come from around Eorzea."
"I agree," Tataru replied, bounding up and down. "Besides, who wouldn't want to see the great Warrior of Light in a wedding dress?"
Aymeric, for all intents and purposes, died. Right there, the blood draining from his head and straight down... It took all that remained of his willpower (and then some) to keep himself from smacking his head onto his desk from blood loss. When he looked, his friends were in a similar state-a twitch in Estinien's brow and hands, Alphinaud all but collapsed on the floor.
Halone help them, this was to be worse than fighting Nidhogg or even the battle for Ala Mhigo...
#
A few days later and Tataru would hear no excuses from the boys, daggers in her eyes as she pushed all three Elezen men to Manor Fortemps. Laughing, she told them that she wanted to show them a preview before the show on the steps of the Vault. To know their opinions. Aymeric did not know which was worse, to see the woman of his dreams in intricate clothes from a distance or up close. He supposed at least he wouldn't have the urge to make a spectacle in public.
When they arrived, Thancred, Alisae, and Y'shtola were waiting in the foyer, looks of both amusement and remorse as the three Elezen, being pushed by a small Lalafell, entered the room. Lord Edmont and his sons were also there, shaking their heads with a sigh. Aymeric mentally prepared his last rites, noting to tell Lord Edmont where to bury him if he should die that day.
Alphinaud, poor Alphinaud, nervously bit at his nails, watching as Tataru blocked their exit from the manor, boundless energy in the tiniest of forms.
"Alright! Mariya, our lovely and beautiful Warrior of the Light, has so graciously agreed to model my dresses and gowns. So, if I could please have your attention, let us begin!"
All three Elezen men stared at the door from which they knew Mariya would step out from. The anticipation was so palpable, the hairs stood on the backs of their necks, whether or not anyone could see the short strands. Tataru stepped to the door and gave it a knock.
"Are you ready, Mariya?"
"Yes," was a muffled voice behind the door.
"Then don't keep them waiting!" Tataru turned to her audience, all smiles and joyful (terrible) glee. "For our first dress, we have Mariya modeling my latest ball gown, made with silks and taffeta, but warm enough to withstand the cold of Ishgard."
The door opened and all eyes (swiftly, oh so swiftly) turned.
And stared.
Mariya, beautiful Mariya, Warrior of Light, a petite Hyur woman of such phenomenal strength... She stood before them with a rare blush on her cheeks, dressed in a crimson red gown made just for her, her chin-length black hair hiding her face as she peered to the side. The way the silk bodice hugged her curves, sparkling crystal on the flared skirt that accentuated the width of her hips, asymmetrical with the back longer than the front, the skirt cut in just a way to show just the barest hint of sand-colored skin above thigh-high leather boots. And cruel mistress that Tataru was, the collar was not high, but dipped low in a sweetheart curve, Mariya's bosom so very...
Aymeric turned his face away, his skin searingly hot, a hand over his mouth. The way her black hair was usually, his eyes always lingered on her lips, rose red and perfectly full. Add that to the gown, which only heightened his distraction now, Aymeric thought he had died and stepped into the halls of Halone... or the very bottom of the Seven Hells.
He had never considered himself a godly man, but by the heavens, never had temptation been so utterly irresistible.
"I will take that as approval, then!" Tataru sang, sing-song. When Aymeric heard the door close, he felt relief wash over him, only for it to be taken away again as Tataru's voice rang out in his ears. "While our Mariya dresses, let me explain our next gown. This one is a twist on the wedding gowns sold across Eorzea. Suffice to say, I think it would fetch a rather handsome price here in Ishgard!"
Alphinaud, a boy growing into a man, turned his eyes to Aymeric and Estinien and the older Elezen men nodded, all of them trying to steel themselves. Three great warriors of Eorzea, to be brought low by a woman in a dress... Aymeric felt himself sigh, heavily, pale blue eyes closing as he waited for the end.
Thancred and Y'shtola glanced at each other, Alisae shutting her eyes in exasperation at the pure comedy of the three men who could fight dragons and all the rest, but couldn't handle a simple crush. Y'shtola could not help but stifle a laugh, Thancred's expression similar to Alisae's as he shook his head, as if so utterly disappointed.
"By the gods," Thancred whispered, "never had I seen three men so utterly fail at being in love. And Ser Aymeric, are you quite sure he is a politician? I doubt there has ever been a man who has lost all sense of composure, his very wits, like he does when our faithful warrior walks into a room. It has only gotten worse with time, hasn't it?"
Y'shtola grabbed at her sides, her laughter louder. Oh, Tataru had said there would be a show, but the Mi'qote had not realized it was to be a comedy of the greatest magnitude.
Wiping a tear from her eyes, she gave a nod to Thancred.
"His affections for the savior of the realm is indeed the worst kept secret in all of Eorzea. I think I shall remember this scene for the rest of my days."
Alisae placed her palm over her face. Seven Hells, how grown men could falter so easily.
Again emerging from the door was Mariya, and the sweep of her dress combined with a gentle sway of her hips... Aymeric prayed for the coldest shower in all of Eorzea, perhaps to drown in a frozen lake in the Coerthas Western Highlands. But, his eyes could not look away. The object of his most burning affection, the woman was dressed as a princess might, but with a dainty elegance in the pale blue crystals embroidered in the shape of flowers, swirling around in long sweeps as if to pull the eyes from her crystal glass shoes up the full skirt, and just to dip between her breasts, another sweetheart line. She wore a necklace of blue sapphire, glimmering under the candlelight, sparkling against the gold of her eyes. In her hair was a single blue flower made of what appeared to be starched cloth, a dusting of sparkles for a shine. She was smiling this time, indeed just like a blushing bride...
Through sheer willpower, Aymeric remained standing, his hands itching to just grab the woman and run. After all, his home was just around the corner, where he could...
"Halone," he prayed, his voice hardly above a whisper, his hand to his face, "I am but a weak-willed man in the face of temptation. If this be a test, I have failed. Utterly."
For their part, the other two didn't fare much better. Alphinaud gawked, helpless, like a doe in front of a stampede. Estinien, though he showed barely any signs, had a twitch at the corner of his mouth, his hands like a vice on his arms. Aymeric knew his old friend well enough to know that the man wished he still wore the armor of the Azure Dragoon, so that the visor might keep his eyes unreadable.
Y'shtola could only laugh harder, practically falling over. The Warrior of Light, Mariya, only smiled, her eyes leaving Aymeric's to enjoy the sight of Y'shtola in real joy.
In Aymeric's mind, there played a long set of scenarios in which his would-be beloved might wear that dress. A beautiful wedding, attended by friends and family, the Zenith not so far away, the vistas of the Churning Mists only adding to the beauty... followed by carrying her, in his arms, across the threshold of a wedding chamber, somewhere far from everything, where he could slowly slip the fabric from her hips and...
Blessed be Halone, he thought, for heavy armor.
Devilish Miss Tataru glanced across the faces of the three Elezen boys. Good, good, she thought...
The Lalafell scooted Mariya back into the other room before turning to them again, smiling as brightly as she could.
Alphinaud grew pale, paler than his normal alabaster complexion. Ser Aymeric and Ser Estinien did not know Tataru, did not know the mischief the little woman could cause... Like Aymeric, he looked to the skies in silent prayer, if only to spare his two friends, both brothers to him, from the machinations of the most evil woman he had ever met.
"Well, I am glad you enjoyed that," Tataru giggled. "We only have one more outfit to showcase and I will let it speak for itself..."
Thancred glanced conspiratorially to Y'shtola, the Mi'qote grinning from cat ear to cat ear. They knew, Alphinaud could see, whatever the next fiendish test of will Tataru had planned. Bloody hells. Alphinaud glared at the two, cowed only as Alisae gave a steely, cold gaze to her twin brother.
Moments passed to give time for Mariya to dress and Aymeric did not know what was worse, the waiting or whatever was in store for them (him) next. He was sure it would be a coup d'etat, though he wished for a mercy kill. Why did he always turn into a pathetic goobbue at the sight of the woman called the Warrior of Light?
The door opened then and Mariya stepped into view. If Alphinaud had gawked before, there was nothing but silence, heavy silence, as the three male Elezen watched the Hyur woman place herself in the center, a (poisoned) feast for their very eyes.
She was dressed in a frilly dress, the black skirt flared in exaggeration with layers upon layers of a thick petticoat underneath, itself barely covering the tops of her thighs, the hint of caramel sand skin above thigh-high stockings of pure white, dainty black shoes with a thick heel. Her top, also black, resembled something of a maid's uniform, though there were far too many ruffles lining the all-too-small white apron, tied with an enormous bow at the back. Her shoulder, too, were bare, though at least the curves of her breast were not on full display, the collar high and topped with white ruffles, a small red bow at her neck.
By Halone, Aymeric truly had died.
And yet... Tataru placed a finger in the air, turning to Mariya.
"Alright! Now, remember what we practiced?"
Mariya nodded, determination in her eyes as if she was striding into battle. Her expression changed, however, as she faced the three men before her, her small hands pressing down on her skirt as she bowed low. She was still half-bent when her eyes gazed up, the sweetest smile on her lips.
"Thank you for returning, masters. Was there any way I could be of service to you?"
Not a single soul breathed as the three Elezen heard Mariya's sing-song voice in their pointed ears. Immediately, Alphinaud collapsed, as if his spirit and soul had left his body. Estinien, in a rare case of nerves, turned away completely, one hand over his mouth as he shut his eyes. That left Aymeric, looking down at the woman, her lips slightly parted as she gazed up to him. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, wetting her lips with her tongue...
There was a commotion, sudden movements, and a very loud yelp as the doors to Fortemps Manor slammed open.
Tataru ran after, shouting.
"Ser Aymeric de Borel, put her down right this instance!"
By Halone's Grace, the man was not listening.
#
It was the sound of giggling that brought Aymeric back to his senses. He stood in the middle of the street, a petite woman thrown over his shoulder. Ishgardian nobles everywhere were staring in utter shock. Glancing to the woman, Aymeric's pale blue eyes widened as he saw Mariya's small clothes, lacy white undergarments, in full view. She didn't seem to care however, still laughing lightly even as he put her back on her feet.
She smiled up to him, warmly. Aymeric, for his part, placed a hand over his mouth, both embarrassed beyond belief and also quite... happy. If it was the cold that made her cheeks ruddy, he wasn't sure. Just in case, however, he wrapped his blue cloak around her, pulling her close.
"I thought only rogues could move so quickly," Mariya laughed, her fingers over her mouth to stifle the sound. "If I didn't know any better, I think Tataru's plan worked..."
"Dammit," he swore even as he laughed, breathing into the woman's dark hair. "I should have known. Did you put her up to this?"
She shook her head, nuzzling in close.
"No, but it was nice. I always wondered if I had that effect on you."
"Oh, please, you've always known."
"Mayhaps," she stated, her voice light, laughter bubbling underneath. "But I think we are two warriors who do not know what to do when faced with happiness."
He shut his eyes, holding her tight. It was, indeed, nice. Wonderful, even.
"And you didn't bother to tell her we had already broached that subject...?"
The woman giggled again, wrapping her arms around him.
"No." She pulled away just to look up at him, gold eyes meeting blue. "Because I wanted to see the look on your face. The same one you had when we first had that dinner together."
Aymeric scowled, even as he felt her place a soft kiss against his lips, he only returning the soft affection with the mostly pleasant memory lingering in his thoughts.
"Besides," she sighed, a ghost of a grin on her lips, the heat of her breath against his, "I wonder... what were you thinking of when I said those words, my dear Master Aymeric...? My Lord Commander?"
"Blast it all," Aymeric shook his head, holding her tight. "If you do not stop, I am going to bend you over the first table or desk in my house and do to you all the foul things I can think of."
She grinned, even as she kissed him, just barely a touch of her lips on his.
"Is that a promise, Master, oh Lord Commander...?"
"Godsdammit," Aymeric huffed, before he threw the woman over his shoulder again. "You kill me, woman."
Mariya, the woman they called the savior of Eorzea, only laughed as her lover walked with purpose to his house (nay, their home), his eyes determined and set with purpose. Oh, the things he would do to her tonight...
#
The next day, Tataru Taru walked up to the Lord Commander of the Templar Knights, he sitting behind his desk, a certain glow across his skin. There was a knowing smirk on her lips and she gave the man a nod.
"Well...?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.
Aymeric sighed, running a hand over his face, before placing a very heavy bag of gil on the desk between them.
"The price for all three dresses, as requested," Aymeric stated, his eyes closed.
"Thank you kindly, good ser," Tataru laughed. "If you ever wish to order another dress, say... something special... please feel free to send payment to the Rising Stones. I have all but memorized Mariya's measurements, after all."
She did a small curtsy and turned, leaving Aymeric to place his face in his hands. Halone save him, he would never sleep again, he was sure of it.
Alphinaud, indeed, had been right-there is no Scion more dangerous than Tataru Taru.