of the azure sky

“My brother speaks highly of you despite some of your more…irksome tendencies. Is it wrong of me to do the same when witnessing you doing something praise worthy?”

Though some wouldn’t find the act of mere dancing to be anything worth more than a few meager claps. Some would even find the compliments given by a prince to simply be too much. But Leo had a soft spot for the arts - something he attributed his own Nestrian heritage to. A love of dance and theater born and carried on through genes. Silly, yes. But an amusing thought to entertain.

On top of that, he hadn’t been lying when he’d stated his brother had nothing short of praise for his retainer. Laslow being easier to deal with than the murderous Peri. A devoted man despite his foreign upbringing. To put one’s life down for a prince that wasn’t even of his own kingdom - remarkable. On some level Leo felt the same towards Odin.

“Hmm, from what I observed I had thought you to be a theater trope member turned mercenary. Preposterous now that I think of it.”

What actor or dancer could pick up a sword and become talented so fast? He’d been there during Xander and Laslow’s first duel. The fight that decided the man’s worth. And judging from that fight - the man was no beginner. He moved like one that had been fighting for years. And yet he still managed to have the grace and movements of a dancer performing up on stage. A man who wished to captivate his audience.

“Tell me, what do you plan to do after the war? My brother has voiced concerns over you possibly returning home.” Concerns he shared when it came to Odin.

Really, the prince is far too kind on his heart. To receive such praise, in any form, why it’s quite the level to take in. Laslow truly does find it… quite so embarrassing, but… oh, be still and take it to his soul, this is what his calling has always wanted to be.

“N-Not at all, milord!” Laslow shakes his head, “It simply caught me off guard! Truly, just a bit of kindness rings quite well! What flattery, I’m charmed.”

For the longest time, he’s simply wanted to dance; yes, it makes him happy, actually and genuinely so. That’s why it’s a part of his dream, for a legacy to uphold. In memory of his mother, the one who carried more talent than him, who uplifted more spirits than him. Dance, ever important to him, one day... perhaps he’ll be able to rest the sword and pick up the rings. 

That would be wonderful. 

A man with a past unspoken, his little secret that isn’t worth mentioning.

“I have seen more than a few battles before coming here,” Laslow says. That’s right, ages, warring across time. Sworn swords, he, Odin, and Selena are, restless, memories of how cruel fate is, but how tireless efforts can come to bring change. Learned to dance to the tunes of his mother’s favorites, and of his own adaptations, the sword taken up with a smile never leaving in order to save those around him. “Such is the case with many, it seems.”

What does he plan? That... an excellent question, to be sure, and one that he must answer... less specific than he’s sure any would be satisfied truly with. But there are some words that aren’t meant for some ears, whispers that tip their toes and shyly bow their heads. A life... with... a certain fair lady, if the world will spare him that much. But to leave friends behind... nay, they mustn’t stay here.

They have others awaiting them.

It takes him only a brief moment to recognize the accessory that Corrin holds in her hands. A gift – who came and gave her the idea? Lucina? Why, she hadn’t been pulled to here with them! But… there’s no denying that the Princess of their time had a vast collection of these hats, having deliberately bought out the entire stock of them at multiple stores the same day she laid her eyes on them. 

And with her generous adoration for sharing what happened to make her smile after such a serious life… wait, no, no, that couldn’t be right! Perhaps this is just a fated exchange, a mirror of honors past, present, and eternal. Truly, he is still strung along this complicated web. 

And this undeniably reminds him of... the misadventures back home, at least...

“Lady… Lady Corrin… you mean this as not a jest?” Right, right, the safe question, dance around offense, wound not the lady’s heart. Not only does Corrin’s excitement hang on this, but he feels as though Lucina’s does as well. “Because, uhh, I must thank you splendidly..! Milady. it’s… adorable… and to be matching with one such as Selena…” 

What a thought that is, as... embarrassing as it may be. Selena... No, Severa, as she was then, oft fought back against Lucina’s, hadn’t she? Surely, he cannot be recalling that wrong. 

But then the... unfortunate stench pulls him back to reality. 

For a moment, at least, 

“So you’re serious... it sticks... like a bear..!” Wait,bounce back, Laslow, steadfast, is that the slightest fade of her smile? Quite... Not his intentions, “I mean, it’s unique odor... of that of a bear will surely adorn our group with its... perfume, haha, well..! Milady, you have my gratitude, truly!” 

//GOSH I LOVE YOU... AND I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!

❤️- A happy memory that makes them smile

Promises, ones that could speak louder than mere words ever will. They’re delicate, quiet, even a mere brush of a hand can mark a swear for years to come. He feels safe, safe near her, near his family, and even as he rests against Mister Stahl, the sounds of slight pattering of pairs of feet moving around nearby, he doesn’t feel out of place.

Inigo likes being around his mother and father, but Mister Stahl, Severa’s father, is nice. Her family is warm, and it’s rare he’s under their care. It’s usually the other way around.

“Th-Thank you…” he whispers, as he keeps his eyes closed. He’s nervous, clearly, as his breathing seems to change pace, deep breaths shift to shallow and vice versa. Sometimes, it’s really scary being in unfamiliar places; he’s used to hiding behind Owain or one of the other boys he’s talked to, or gaping from a distance. He’ll cling to those he’s most familiar with when his parents aren’t there, a fault of his heavy shyness.

Stahl gently ruffles Inigo’s white hair, making sure not to move too much otherwise, his softer voice speaking,

“They’ll be back soon, Inigo. And haha, don’t you worry. Severa’s still here with you.”

Stahl is very well aware of how positively his daughter gets along with the son of the other Shepards. It’s quite nice, the fact that they’ve formed friendships, so that they’ll have comforts during the times their parents have to fight for their futures, so that they’ll never be alone.

“Y-Yes…” Inigo responds, his voice almost so soft it’s nearly unintelligible. But as he grips the small rabbit plush that rests on his lap, the one that Mother allowed him to take as a certain comfort, he feels a hand brush against his own, a pressure meeting his other side.

“I told you Daddy’s the best at this sort of thing.”

Severa.

Ah, I like… being near her… not difficult… to stay…

Her hand is warm. He doesn’t want to open her eyes to look at her, because he’d probably want to skitter away to Stahl’s other side. He can’t look directly at the moon when she’s this close anyway, not right now. Too bright, too inviting, he wants to shrink.

“Hey, are you listening? You better be grateful to me and Daddy. We… We don’t wanna see you with a frown…”

What is Severa’s expression? Is she pouting? As her hand stays a top of his he feels a quick press of a plush against his cheek - the bear, right? He brought them both... He wishes he can speak, the he can be as cool as Owain and the other kids, like a prince, even, but words aren’t allowing him so.

Yet, he likes this familial hold, the closeness, the warmth, he’s used to things like this, and... Severa seems happy too, doesn’t she?