BOYHOOD BRAVERY. ♚

     “ This is...? ” He’s uncertain as to why she’s offering the gifts until he realizes he has forgotten his own birthday. Smile tugs at his lips as if her own has magicked him. Books would always be a favorite of his regardless of how others joked his nose was always in one. He opens the first to discover an anthology of poems - Hoshidan in origin. The language had always fascinated him and the works possessed qualities lacking in their Nohrian counterparts. He would most certainly look some of these over before heading to bed tonight. The first is carefully closed so he can shift his attention to the second, making a mental note that brushing up on his Hoshidan later would be advisable. He was intimately familiar with Nohrian warfare having studied it closely, but Hoshidan tactics were a different beast altogether. Eyes scan the pages of the art of Hoshidan war as he flips through it in a cursory fashion. This would make an intriguing addition to his collection. 

            ❝ Oh, Siegbert! There you are! ❞ 

    With how they hadn’t been in the company of one another for the entire day, it almost sounds as though she had been looking for him all day! However, Soleil neglects to acknowledge her one day disappearing act, simply grinning up at him. She appears as chipper as she usually does, though her hair does look slightly disheveled, as if she hadn’t bothered to fix her appearance for the day ( but in truth, it’s all most likely from how many times she scratched her head in thought, mulling over his gift ). As if realizing her messy hair, a hand reaches up to brush it down, laughter bubbling past her lips.

    “Happy birthday! Boy, did I have a fun time finding you a gift,” she teases, the hand behind her back revealing itself along with her present: a telescope. “I didn’t bother getting a bag, seeing as it’s dark now,” comes the explanation for the lack of inability to ceremoniously take it out of something, her shoulders shrugging. “You’re pretty diligent with your sleep schedule too so, I figure it’s not going to be used much right now but… When the war’s over and we’ve all gone our separate ways, I thought it’d be pretty useful. No matter where we go, we’re all under the same sky, right? Stargazing and remembering your friends is fun but, I figured it’d be more interesting if you can get a close up look.” 

    She pauses, throat clearing as she pushes the metal item into his hold. “Of course, I’ll still be in your company after this is all over but, the others might not be. But, we’re all connected now that we’ve gotten to know each other so, if we can meet up again, maybe you can tell them what’s difficult to see in that wide sky we all share.” Soleil’s scratching her cheek now, laughing awkwardly as her light pink dusts her visage. What embarrassing words! Thank goodness it’s only one day each year. 

    The embarrassment clears quickly though, her smile warm as she moves to his side, an arm wrapping around him, a hand comfortingly rubbing upon his bicep. They’ve both had enough festivities for the day ( him especially, considering his dislike for the doting ). the half-embrace she gives him meant to say Hey, good job but also a I’m here now, no need to pretend. She squeezes him to her side tightly, before she loosens her grip and retreats from him, her head nodding in a direction away from the rest of their comrades. 

    “But, enough about that birthday stuff— The attention’s been stressful, hasn’t it? Why don’t we go use that telescope? I’m sure it’ll help you wind down and if not, we can always have a cup of tea.”

birthday boy @siegnificant​!

     “ S-Soleil... ” Commentary on her hair is withheld because it appears she’s been scurrying about. He hadn’t heard from her for an entire day, but he also assumed she had her own business to take care of- appearance now confirming his suspicions. Dismissing any concern he had with easy-going laughter, as she does, her smile seems remarkably brighter after having been without it.

     He’s taken aback when she offers him the present. He hadn’t expected to receive anything from her- regardless of the occasion. “ You need not have gone to the troubl- ” Protest falls short; no match for the enthusiasm and optimism she conducts herself with. “ I see. ” A thoughtful hum escapes him to acknowledge that he was listening and did not wish to interrupt. Hopefully the war would have ended by his next birthday. But being prepared to ascend the throne in even a year or two from now was wishful thinking, at best. And it’s sad to imagine that once the army disbands they will be forced to part with dear comrades.

     Soleil’s sunny presence would be a great comfort in the years to come. In fact, he cannot envision a future in which he is not serving at his side. Her words inspire in the way he hopes to one day inspire his people. “ I hope that’s the case, ” Siegbert replies quietly. Relying on the heavens to keep them all connected is novel but he wants to believe in it nonetheless. Once she passes him the telescope, he examines the tool by carefully twirling it in his hands.  

    Fatigue weighs on him despite his efforts to mask it- which is nary successful with such an attentive retainer. He can never fool Soleil. Worries and anxieties that plague him do not go unnoticed. The festivities, the celebration, were a little more overwhelming than he’d care to confess. Although admitting to as much would be ungrateful. His lips curl into a small smile and the warmth of her touch lingers after she pulls away. 

    Laughter is breathed soft, the likes of which is reserved only for close friends and family. He had managed to survive the day however challenging it was at some points. “ That is a fine idea- a fitting end to this day. ” Allowing her to lead the way, the two settle on a hill a short distance from the main party. The night air is pleasantly cool against his back and he turns to see her beside him (as always).

“Tis alright, Siegbert! Not everyone can master the intricate vocabulary of a chosen one.”

She knows this is foreign territory for Siegbert. Though he is admirable, he is not quite as vivacious as his cousin is. Ophelia does not see it as a flaw, but a distinguishing feature. Both she and Siegbert have been told on countless occasions how similar they are to their fathers, and the prince and princess have always found such comparisons to be COMPLIMENTARY. Siegbert takes after Marx, and it makes sense for him to be less bodacious. It is a part of who he is, and Ophelia does not want to change it. Instead, she works with it.

“Do not trouble yourself. Words are not the only form of inspiration. You must find the method that speaks to you. Only once your OWN heart has been inspired may you inspire the hearts of others.”

         Golden brows knit into a furrow. Perhaps he is not “Chosen One” material afterall. Setbacks are to be expected in all endeavors, but Siegbert is discouraged more easily than most. Foleo and Ophelia had been blessed by the heavens with artistic creativity in abundance. Even though he enjoyed painting occasionally, he would hardly consider himself above the level of an amateur.

     His cousin’s advice is sound, more so than most would give her credit for. He couldn’t hope to inspire others without first finding inspiration of his own. Although the legacy of past Nohrian kings inspired him to work towards his full potential, he’s not quite sure that will suffice. Certainly she speaks of something more grand- something akin to divine inspiration from the gods. 

In her hands, there is a present; in her touch, tenderness; in her eyes, an immeasurable endearment to for the child she is both blessed and distinguished to consider her son.

“Siegbert?”

She hopes her introduction isn’t an intrusion on this evening of earned and entitled excellence, containing in its commemoration of his person and conformation to a consummate criterion the celebration that her son always deserves, though does not receive nearly enough of – recognition and reaffirmation shamefully scarce in their assignment to an adolescent that, more than his meriting of them, is in an implicit and latent need for them.

“May I have a moment?” 

This – she has discerned. This – she has acted upon, restless in her eagerness to dispense the fondness that runs rapid and unrestrained in her veins, escalating and accelerating in its accumulation inside her, until it is her – her heart that of a mother’s: one that harbors in it nothing but an adoration – immense and immeasurable, incomparable and impossible – for her child.

She holds her present out to him, her insistence silent but interminable as it transfers from her hands and into his, and her consideration of him does not cease in its contemplation of his features. In his hands is a gift that had been hers to grant, hers to originate in its conception and hers to orchestrate in the months of its construction, but not hers alone to bestow.

It is a journal, its pages containing in industrious documentation the enumeration of all the actions, both tremendous and trivial, that he has performed on the behalf and for the betterment of his comrades. Each recount is a paragraph in her hand – an accurate and succinct synopsis of the occasion in question, – accommodated by a comment from those he had assisted. The names of his friends and their messages of gratitude can be read within – their contributions but a slender percentage in her chronicle of his compassion.

It is a transcript of his accomplishments, a testament to his constant and unconditional kindness, a record of all the appreciation that had gone unspoken, though not unfelt, until her endeavors to document them all.

“Happy Birthday, Siegbert.”

A note, penned in her hand, adorns the inner cover.

“From them, from me – from all of us: to you.”

For whenever you forget your own worth.

     “ Yes, Mother? ” he responds to her call without dally. Her company is never an imposition, in fact, he revels in the sparing moments they are allowed in between battle after battle. She never fails to check up on either of her sons, ascertaining that they haven’t sustained any wounds in skirmishes.

     “ Anything for you. ” She asks only for a moment, but he would give her all the time in the world if needed. Although it is his birthday, he does not expect anything, her presence is enough of a gift to him. War has wrought many sorrows on the land and while he dare not thank it for any favors, he is overjoyed to be reunited with his parents. Time, he’s come to learn, is a gift and being able to spend it with loved ones is a blessing. 

     She bestows him with a journal, a practical gift he thinks upon first glance, something in which to record his own thoughts. He’s kept a diary since childhood, but its pages were nearly all full. He smiles and mouths a thank you before she urges him to open the book. He flips the cover to reveal a a small message in his mother’s handwriting. Eyes widen as he turns the page, intently scanning the words inscribed. Page after page, he realizes its filled from beginning to end with the sentiments of comrades that redden his cheeks. His gaze travels from her to the book and to her again. She’s smiling at him as she does, in the way only a parent can, with such tenderness and love that his lips quiver. He clutches the journal against his chest before reaching to wipe away a stray tear.

          A shade of pink much like the hair he inherited from her dusts over the prince’s cheeks. And he feels like the same boy he was when his parents had retrieved him from the Deeprealms. Hoshido is a peaceful land, the journey across the sea was not a difficult one, I was received warmly at Castle Shirasagi... are what he wishes to say but her concern is rooted in love so he does not challenge it, instead, offering a grateful smile. “ I appreciate the thought. I missed you as well. ” Siegbert moves to join her, hand hovering on the chair’s back when a thought occurs to him. 

  Though the younger prince tries not to draw much attention to it, it’s easy for Marx to sense the change that comes over him. The soft reply, a stutter… It’s reminiscent of his own behavior from years past, before he was fully capable of keeping such things hidden, and he frowns once again. Marx could hardly blame him for it, however. Even though Marx didn’t have the opportunity to spend as much time with Siegbert as his own father had spent with him, he knew that he still greatly admired him. 

  Marx, too, felt a sadness come over him at the thought of his own father’s death. King Garon was hardly the same man he used to be, but as far as Marx knew, he was still his father, and he himself wouldn’t be the person he was now if not for Garon.

  “I apologize. It was not my intention to upset you.”

      Like a child Siegbert hangs on his father’s every word. He realizes now the heavy atmosphere between them and regrets speaking out of turn.  “ Ah, No... It’s... I should be the one apologizing, Father. ” 

(content warning for death, length, and birthright spoilers)

@ofthelace  ღ

      He was roughly six years of age when his mother finally allowed the royal stylist to take a blade to his hair. She insisted on staying the entire time despite father’s reassurances that it would look equally handsome when finished. Siegbert remembers when his bangs were a curly mess that he could barely see past and also remembers crying at the loss of them. It’s laughable to recall now: Nohr’s future king tearing up in the barber’s chair after his first hair cut; the way his mother effortlessly scooped him into her arms after. “ I love it ” her voice had reassured him as she pressed a kiss to his bare temple. “ Now I can do this. ”

      At seven his hair is growing faster than ever taking on the color of his mother’s hair with the texture of his father’s. The curls have started to settle in and her hands never stray far - tirelessly working through them in a vain attempt to smooth. He never minded. Even when he awoke up with bedhead that took his mother hours to untangle (which she never failed to). He knows it now to be a labor of her love for him.

      Later that same year, his parents are busier than ever with war affairs. Aunt Kamui, if he can even call her that, is leading the Hoshidan army according to Uncle Leon. He picked up the name from Aunt Elise, but his uncle corrects him by saying she is no longer part of their family. It doesn’t make sense to a child his age. Still, he knows better than to question it. This Kamui had left Nohr before his birth and any curiosity he has is overshadowed by the pained face of his aunts when her name is mentioned.

      His uncle is ruling Nohr as its regent king until Siegbert is ready to succeed the throne. But it still unsettles the young prince’s stomach to see anyone standing where his father once stood. There was a terrible accident that night Leon had informed him - one that cost them the lives of Nohr’s crown prince and his Queen and the second princess. Even Leon didn’t have the details, only that none of them would be returning to the castle. The empty seat next to the king’s taunts him. His uncle has yet to take a wife because he needs no heir and the stability of their nation is a greater concern.

Sakura can’t help but smile wide as the big arms of her almost-nephew encircle her. Gods, how old is he now? 15? 16? She could no longer remember, not after both parties were completely swept up in the war and begrudgingly became allies.

Sakura took to the first born prince almost instantly. If not at first, it was simply due to lack of exposure. He visited often once Xander agreed to let him leave his Deeprealm. Now it seems that he’s at Castle Shirasagi at least once a month. And it’s not an easy journey, either.

“Siegbert i-it’s so good to see you!” She beams at him as she let’s him go. “My goodness, h-how are you?”

     With a polite hug exchanged upon arrival, he inwardly notes that she is shorter than they last met - or rather he has grown.  Although the princess’ height remains the same, facial features have begun to noticeably fill out. But those kind eyes of hers are just as he remembers.

     There is an indisputable charm to Hoshido - the lands are fertile, air and skies clear, and spring brings with it captivating blossoms that are unlike anything in Nohr. The scenery alone is worth the the various preparations necessary for a visit. And the company even more so. Prince Kisaragi and Prince Shinonome were never lacking in excitement (and mischief much to his chagrin).

his chin lifts, eyebrows furrow down. he isn’t sure where to start but he sure as hell isn’t going to admit it. “ANYWHERE. WE MUST SEARCH EVERY NOOK AND CRANNY FOR LADY ELISE.” he leaned down, his lips pursing into a pout that only siegbert could see all while whispering words only he could hear. he said, “effie would have my head if any harm would come to lady elise; and i admit i’ve been worried for a while.”

he stood up straight, hands going to hips. he’s back to his old self. “SO, LET’S GO.”

     “ I’ve yet to familiarize myself with the area so I place myself in your capable hands. I endeavor to assist in any way I can. ” 

   “ Oh my! That sounds like a tall order you have there, Sieggy.       Are you sure that it wouldn’t be a problem to have me tag along?       Though I don’t really have any  set-in-stone  plans,                       I can easily adjust doing minimal tasks until the last light of the day. ”