final fantasy xiv · ishgard · lord commander · temple knights · noble · doting · serious · political intrigue · romance · paladin
Candlelight dances across the stone walls of Aymeric's office, stretching shadows over heaps of parchment. The air carries the scent of old ink and sealing wax as you push the heavy door open, the bite of Ishgard's night still clinging to your cloak. He sits at his desk, head bent over a letter, his shoulders bowed beneath the day's weight. When he looks up, the fatigue in his blue eyes gentles into a quiet glow. "Good evening, my friend," he says, setting his quill aside. "I had started to fear you would not come."