naimhdean

“After everything I did for you, you turned it all aside and gave up.”

Hilda’s voice cut through the air as she cornered her daughter, Ishtar’s back pressed against the cold stone wall as her eyes stayed fixed to the ground. This bugged Hilda more than anything else, the idea that the girl just seemed to be riding through the lesson and waiting to sneak away - how dare she? Scowling a hand moved to her chin, nails digging into her cheek even as she lifted her daughter’s head almost gently.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” She growled. A harsh glare met a pair of dead, hopeless eyes as Hilda sighed in disgust and shook her head. She must have pushed Ishtar too hard in that previous life —- a broken tool wasn’t of any use to her. She pulled her hand away and noted with some satisfaction that at least the silver-haired girl didn’t look away. “Good. Now, it isn’t a complete waste. His Highness is wandering around this world as well, so we can still complete the marriage-”

“No. Never again.”

Ishtar’s firm refusal caught Hilda off guard, and the dark-haired woman stared at her incredulously for a moment. Ishtar avoided her gaze, two hands fiddling with each other - not the scratching at her forearms the girl so foolishly normally did. Eyes narrowed a little and focused, and she let out a small bark of unbelieving laughter at the sight she found.

“You married another, then?” She shook her head in disgust. “Such a damned waste. Going from an emperor and heir of not one but two mighty bloodlines to who, then?”

“Someone better-” Ishtar seemed like she was mustering up the courage to snarl a retort, but her attention snapped away to something else even as Hilda snorted in disgust at what she assumed the words meant. “S-seliph!”

“Seliph…? Ah, you clever girl.” Something almost like pride filled Hilda’s heart and she chuckled, arms crossed under her chest. “You saw Julius losing the war and decided it would be best to start over, latching onto the new emperor instead. I’m impre-”

Ishtar shoved herself past her mother, clearly not listening to her words anymore. Hilda’s face contorted with rage at this and she reached out, grabbing a wrist as she tried to leave. “We are not finished here you silly-”

She froze, finding herself staring not just at her restrained daughter, but the man with an arm around her shoulders and glaring at her. As if she was doing something wrong. This must be Seliph, then…she’d never gotten to meet him in person before that damned reject son of Tailtiu’s had killed her.

“Unhand her.” She said, coldly. “I’m having words with my daughter.”

     He knew he should not have left her alone.      From the moment that word reached their ears about that woman’s arrival, Seliph should have known that not accompanying Ishtar would leave her open to being confronted like this– by Hilda; her mother; a vile, uncaring and dangerous person. She is no mother, but instead a persistent leech, and while the boy had not been confident in his abilities to spot her initially, there is no mistaking that the older woman clutching onto his partner’s wrist and addressing him so distantly must be Hilda. An uncharacteristically dull stare maintains eye contact with the other, summoning what courage he can gather to stay utterly still– to keep his arm around Ishtar’s shoulders if not to comfort the girl, then in case if she dares to try and pull her back. The young king has half a mind to move his free hand to Tyrfing’s hilt, however, as tempting as the idea happens to be, Seliph knows that it would only further upset and anger the woman keeping his lover in a situation she so clearly did not want to have been dragged into in the first place.

          “I’m sorry, but I cannot do that,”

     His voice is low, but still ever as gentle as it normally is, not wishing to worsen the situation or call for attention of those nearby. It is his fault that she found herself face-to-face with someone so wretched, after all– it is he who broke his promise to keep the girl away from her mother at all costs. The very least Seliph can do now is ensure that she escapes from this unscathed, both physically and emotionally. Pale features contort, a light frown tainting replacing the calm expression that had been there moments prior, wishing he could guide his partner away– resisting the urge to pry each and every one of those talon-like fingers off of her wrist so they could leave.

          “If I’m not mistaken, Ishtar was trying to leave, was she not…? She clearly does not want to speak with you any longer… It would be best for you to respect her wishes.”

     He doubts Hilda will listen to him– if what his lover has said about her is true, then it will not be that simple–, however there is no harm in at least trying to be reasonable, and seeing if acting that way would offer them an opportunity to slip away without the situation escalating. 

He looked stupid, though. There wasn't anything in that stare other than blunt courage nad some small amount of anger as his face twisted into a frown. Hilda's scowl deepened and, eventually, she let go of Ishtar's wrist.

"Perhaps I should be speaking to you instead, then." Hilda ignored Ishtar as the girl managed to step away, letting go of Seliph's hand in turn and rubbing her wrist. For a moment it looked as though the girl would stay, but then a small sob escaped her throat and she turned tail and fled.

Ah...she must know I'm going to reveal all her little secrets and manipulations. Then she won't have any choice but to fall back to Julius and follow my plans like a good little girl.

me:

– savage beasts of the night

                                                                              we enjoy watching you crawl for life –

                                      run while you still can, we will show no mercy

indie fire emblem blogs valter && grima oc && duplicates friendly penned by munstone && grima

“…this must be some form of cruel joke.” Validar’s words were flat. He had spent years - so many long, lonely years consumed by hate and frustration - attempting to find his wife. Even when his child had resurfaced, Naeva hadn’t been with them, and he had ultimately if reluctantly dismissed her as most likely dead.

It was hard to stop loving someone. Particularly when they still seemed to do things that endeared them to you - he was convinced the former Exalt’s murder had been her work. She’d always been so distinctive when it came to executions. But to find her here, in Askr…

“Tell me, then. Since we cannot come to blows under the orders of that blasted summoner…why? Why would you take our child and flee from their destiny? I thought we had agreed to this path together years ago.”

          “I–”

     The sound escapes from red lips before the sage can hope to hold it back– as though her mind forces the mother to speak, to give her husband an answer, without any sort of delay or hesitance; as though she fears any bout of silence, no matter how large or small, would only upset him further. This is naught but a scenario from a mix of her worst nightmares, and painful dreams– to be confronted by a man her actions must have hurt beyond repair, but to also have the opportunity to apologise and explain herself, though Naeva knows that it will take more than a few words to fully work over two decades of mulling and frustration. To protect Robin– to keep him safe– was her only reason. A mix of maternal instincts, paranoia and fear, and the internal reassurance that so long as Robin was safe, then she was still sticking to her role– that was what had driven her to run. Whether or not that happens to be a good enough reason, in Validar’s eyes, happens to be another question.

          “…We did, however I… the threat of the war… the idea of losing our child… Validar, I grew so frightened and paranoid that I… felt as though the entire world was out to harm them… that I had no other choice– like I was… trapped,”

      The idea to say that she wanted Robin to have the opportunity to live and choose their own path comes to mind, however the sage refrains from speaking such a thing, for she knows that their child would have had the same amount of time to grow up, and forge their own path. It would useless to waste the sorcerer’s time by rambling on about that, and foolish to try and convince herself that Robin would not have had at least twenty years to grow up happily, in the lap of luxury, and able to choose his own path. Her actions stemmed from a bout of hysteria that was left to fester, and never shared– Naeva knows that, and assumes her husband believes the same thing–, but at least the female can recognise the main reason for running away, even if their foundation still composes itself out of worries and distressing thoughts; nothing concrete.

His own madness had hurt less than acknowledging her traitorous presence. The sword driving through his chest or the burning of lightning against his back had been close, but it was hard to make him feel anything after that day - except for hate, and an ambitious drive.

“The child would have been safe for years until the time came - and they would have understood their role by then. Instead they rejected it, and look at what followed.” He spat, growling. “Our God lays dead, not even sealed, but dead - at the hands of the one we brought forwards to bring him back. You brought ruin on everything we worked with and all you have are apologies-”

“Grimleal Trinity”

Another Alphonse Mucha conceptual study

Man, what if Morgan could be a vessel for Grima. Like, this poor kid already has to deal with enough. I just have a lot of feelings about the Tactician and her family. u n u 

Commissioned by @crispytp