BE EXALTED O KING!

“ this strength serves more than me alone.” 

✴ —— the warm gesture was not remiss. she much appreciated others nearing her not as a distant figure, like some blinding star nor unreachable royal, but a human being. that priam's vivacious energy had not dulled since she recalled him, even if events very well could be different for him, gave her no small measure of joy. familiar faces from her beloved ylisse, a beloved world, that was only one small portion of a taste of the universe she had held in her hands whilst traveling through the outrealm gate; the steadfast stars, the bright moon.. the steadfast sun. the pole star which one of her names imbued.

a gentle chuckle from the exalt turned student; smiling fondly and with a warrior's appreciation for the item, knowing full well what it meant. "i don't think anyone quite is, priam. but if you feel we are kindred in anyway with your passion for life, then i consider myself fortunate!" her smile is warm as she extends her hand; more familiar with kisses of fealty or terrified fingers squeezing hers than the remembrance of familial touches and simpler times. but now, now was a time to change such things.

" i'll be certain to polish my blade with the respect it is due should it grow weary. but in return, priam, may i hold you to your word? " no seriousness, just the same steadfastness of that bright star her father had added to her name, that had molded to her spirit, her symbolization. " i expect you to hold nothing back and every technique you have to offer. while i would wish you to be at ease without raising your own blade . . . harmless training in peace you may always find with me."

continued from here ! 

✴ —— my princess. how long had she heard those words? how long had she in title actually been one? it made sense in days gone by with flowers for mother and early calloused palms for father’s training to briefly recall those days. but long had the crown of exalt and the ruler kneeling before her had devoured that girl so that what was needed, what the people cried for, took its place. 

she is silent in the wake of her respectful but affectionate warmth. her heart twinges at her thanks; and for once her stoic, unflappable grace of calm is hindered. she almost grits her teeth internally at how merciful cordelia is. 

the young exalt and time-traveler holds back words of apology, of failing to save her life, of failing to in her eyes, so many failures in the eyes of the one hardest upon one’s self! her best friend’s grief...unable to have time to properly be a friend instead of the ruler that was necessary. 

instead; for a brief moment those heterochromatic eyes flit to her with unfathomable hope and unfathomable grief. “... i would have prevented more if i could. please, lady cordelia, you owe me no thanks. my father’s companions and friends taught me both in the past and future the meaning of camaraderie. even if it fell to me, i was never truly alone with your daughter nor others at my side. if hope can be preserved, if a future made bright is in the past...or perhaps your future? then that is all i have ever sought nor wanted. i want nothing more. “

 she raises herself; once more composed and a twitch of a smile not of indecipherable things but of happiness. enough that even a rare giggle touches her lips; ruined fingers covered by gloves ghosting her mouth as she laughs. 

“ . . . i haven’t been called a princess in such a long time. i became an exalt at a young age and it remains most of my life. “ she muses wistfully, smiling at her father’s dear friend. “ in a way i am still adjusting to past titles. but in this moment i would be nothing more than a girl who would selfishly seek your company. it...you are more than my family’s guardian among many. you are my family’s friend, a confidante, and for that my thanks will always overflow. “ 

a brief hesitant ghosting of fingers against the woman’s arm. smile warm and bright for eyes far, far too old. she understands what the paragon knight is trying to say. her smile only brightens; eyes crinkling with appreciation that hides the bitter sweetness of her message.

✴ —— “ hello, ike. “ simple pleasantries that held heartfelt sentiment. such was their way. so often were they sparring or speaking of experiences without divulging their stories too overmuch that lucina enjoyed times when his eyes did not look to her expectantly for an instruction. there is a brief blink at the gesture before her; carefully researching in time she never imagined to be so full of; various plants, herbs, foods and customs of fodlan.

“ my experiences with you, my friend, tell me that these hold a deeper meaning.” some might think ike held no wisdom nor tact, as much as lucina held no flaws nor weaknesses. both were untrue. his companion can only finger it in her hands with a small chuckle at his open comment at her strength of breaking the dummies. a trait lovingly and embarrassingly inherited from father despite her all-rounded technique. 

“ thank you ike. i do prefer practicality over baubles, if i may be blunt? although i would never spurn any gift at all, so i suppose i contradict myself! “ a rare giggle before she moves to hold out her hand in gratitude. “ if i’m not mistaken do we not share a birthday? so today is your day as much as mine. i was wondering..”

appraising her friend as she sets the precious tool aside; it seemed they always came back to her house leader’s country. perhaps she really ought to study even more to be more respectful of the students borne of it and its leader? 

“ i assume professor rhys and princess maria gifted you cake most generously? if so... would you mind terribly if i ate some of mine with you? i think we ought to relax today. “ what a strange word for her to know or say! but in such peaceful times...undercurrents abound, as all things were, lucina felt it was an appropriate thing. 

hopefully her precious friend and student would not see it as anything less. 

“ happy birthday ike! “ a rare, bright smile. she grips his hand in hers; small, scared beyond measure, but sure, and intimately fond the way one might hold a family member’s hand. someone they trusted even without divulging the most painful of tales. “ i wish you good tidings, health, and many, many years to come. i look forward to seeing you grow even stronger both in heart and body. “

some experience in giving gifts upon these very occasions had been accreted, she notices. no longer did she struggle too much in finding the proper words to say— it seemed, after all, that the thought alone was enough for most (and that was a rather kind aspect of all mortal hearts). in her hands, held out to lucina is a crown woven of flowers; bluestars, vibrant and soft in their light.

it had taken some time for the flowers to truly cultivate, and eir had tried her best to grow them, despite all of her lack of experience. she tends to them— picks them out just for lucina; that which symbolised the hope and beauty of all things, and the reaching out towards the infinite, almost unreachable of futures. the name, too, bore some resemblance— in that lucina, in all of her royal, navy light, was a star that encompassed those around her to follow.

“to many more years, with you,” she says, finally, thumbing the petals in her hold, gentle; moulding it, keeping shape. her gaze flits briefly towards the top of lucina’s head, before traveling downwards— meeting her eyes with a a question. “if you would please, allow me...?”

“ eir, you would...” she says simply and calmly. she should not be so arrogant to assu -- yet there it stands. a crown. long has she borne and forever in spirit will one be borne. yet in her hands are innocent flower crowns. things woven in her distant, slain youth.  she finds herself speechless at its sight; a brief, somber expression on her face that quickly turns to humility in its utmost. 

it’s a strange feeling. the weight of eir’s crown as opposed to her ancestor’s is far, far less heavy. it is the weight of love and friendship. it is the utmost honor even if eir knows it not. she cannot help but find her knees almost instinctively lowering in a regal, stately gesture of prostrating herself . but perhaps that reveals over much. in time she feels eir may know much anyway. it’s a...strange feeling.

“ my friend.” she repeats. softly looking at the flowers from the tall woman, ashen and bright-eyed with an immeasurable gentleness. a mercy that begets all others as the progenitor. her smile twitches in both bittersweet and equal measures openly tender; not twitching in a small smile but a solemnity and inability to truly express how much this meant.

crown me in flowers, you say? you would crown me in flowers . . . 

even if she feels herself a failure many if not each day; even if she is regaled by those who know her, hopeful and trusting eyes upon her atlas-laden back; she cannot help but find herself briefly closing calloused hands around her wrist.

“ i would ask you....for a personal reason to allow me to kneel. “ it’s soft, quiet.

let this be a coronation of spirit. a renewal of her vows and duties, and the freedom to choose them when no one would ask it of her. let it shine as a star brighter perhaps even than the coronation ages ago as exalt, holy king, any name but lucina. 

“ no, you may not know that this goes beyond all honor that i do not deserve, but, please. “ soft, vulnerable for once, regal mien and kindly features briefly faltering in a rare display of emotion. a silent plead. of warmth and love for the friend she echoes softly, “ please...one day i will tell you. perhaps. but this weighs more finely and truly than any gold or kingdom in all the world.”

please crown me in flowers. grace my head as if it were the brightest star. 

lucina releases her tender grip around death’s wrists and hope kneels. 

the woman kneels before her; head bowed in almost baffling humility for her confidence as her lips fully smile, almost as if it brings her comfort. 

it does.

“ . . . i kneel before your friendship. your goodness. so please, crown me in flowers, my gentle friend. and..do so knowing it is beyond words.” she glances up softly, mismatched eyes unfathomable in their myriad display of feelings. 

“ i can think of no higher honor from you, so please, do so. it is my pleasure, my joy, and a blessing. “ 

with the dignity and brightness that was beholden to her, lucina bows her head low, the glittering circlet upon her head catching in the light as without even hesitating she removes it. lashes brush against her skin; smile turns to solemnity as if before the ylissean court once again.

but this time the court is light and eyes look to her in friendship. not as their hope, their monarch, and the shoulders briefly lighten almost subconsciously.

a king crowned in flowers.....yes, to many years with you, gentle eir. many more.

“ please eir. i cannot tell you why, but... this is sacred to me in ways perhaps i can never truly share.” one day perhaps, but not this day. 

crown me in flowers, not as an exalt who never feels enough...                           ....but as your loyal friend.

✴ ——  she has heard of someone with battle experience made professor. byleth, wasn’t it? as a survivor and victor of countless battlefields, the quiet exalt of a fallen world cannot help but be intrigued like so many are that a mercenary would be given such a profession. though qualification should be merited on skill, not birthrights. a staunch believer of such, she cannot help but be surprised at thinking a woman most were intimidated by rather...looks intimidated by her when she opens the door.

a kind, if not surprised smile on her face, small but palpable, years of battle instinct have her reflexes catch it rather aptly, too aptly for a mere student before she offers a surprised and very rare owlish blink, if not a brief, outright gape. 

“ pr-professor? professor byleth! please wait! by naga’s name -- ! “ hastily setting the cookies down the blue lions student matches her fast stride with ease as she wonders if she is only making it worse! but such kindness cannot go repaid, she delicately calls. 

“forgive me! but. can you stay a little bit enough for me to thank you, professor? please, you needn’t...be at unease with me. i assure you that i hold you in high esteem. to teach others is a kindness and a gift upon the world.” any world. 

“er, professor?” as she draws nearer from where she’s caught her retreating, concern wrinkles her brows. perhaps...this was a bad idea. 

“ um ... er, perhaps i will write to you later? if that pleases you? i did not mean to pursue you so relentlessly without regards to your feelings.....” but while her hands are torn from battle beyond recognition, she tentatively places a hand against her arm as if touching a startled animal. how strange..this is not what she had heard! but endearing nonetheless...as if seeing the human behind the beloved teacher.

“ professor byleth. you are very kind. “ looking down a bit to match her gaze, her own strong yet kind, she offers her a rare, but far more openly spread smile that crinkles her very eyes. 

“ i owe you my gratitude. and if you are willing, i will gladly return it with nothing but humility and a sense of honor in my heart. “ releasing her hand, the ruler and time-traveler walks away, one last glance before quietly striding back to her room. 

✴ —— the informality reminds her that to many, she is human. not only steel and crown or grief or hope. “yes? it is indeed! and to hear yours as well...i had no idea you knew that. did you get your helping of cake, milady?” the woman laughs; soft and strong, as she closes the gap only to blink briefly, a brief hitch in step, at the presented gift. 

“ tulsi tea ? i hear it does wonders for one’s health. a friend of mine also purchased me a great deal of fine teas for my name day. perhaps we ought to have a tea time if you wish? “ she is trying to open herself enough to encourage these bonds, the bonds which have ever given her invincible strength. not strength alone, no, strength never served her alone. 

either way, it’s a sweet gesture; and while serra’s eyes hold an impish, irreverent gleam, they at their core, she senses, are harmless and genuinely well meant at the end of the day. for whoever she was, an unfamiliar face with a brightness to match the sunny day of their birthdays. 

“ can i help you carry some of these? i can’t imagine professor rhys or princess maria forgetting you a slice, but if you’d like more portions i am more than happy to share my own. as dearly as i enjoy a sweet, i think i may become ill from eating all of their massive generosity! “ a beat. “ but thank you. “ politely but kindness leaks in her voice. “ at the very least i’d like your name?