PARAGON

“A sword is my preferred weapon, yes,” Xander confirmed with a nod. He accepted the practice weapon and nodded again, this time in thanks, before turning away from his opponent for a few practice swings. He adjusted to the length and weight easily, a learned flexibility from the unpredictability of battle. To be useless without Siegfried at his hand was hardly an option, after all. 

“I would be most honoured to demonstrate some of our fighting techniques for you, sire.” The next group was not due for training for over an hour, so Seth had plenty of time in which he could get to know the foreign king better. Any other plans he may have had for the intervening hour were shoved aside in favour of this chance for some one on one time with King Xander. “I am free at the current moment, your majesty, if it pleases you. If not, simply let me know when would be a more appropriate time, and I shall ensure that I am available.”

Now -- 

Xander wasn’t quite prepared. His dress in Renais was more relaxed than in Nohr. (Eirika assured him it was fine, in fact, perhaps advantageous.) But still, to so suddenly take on a challenge -- 

“I accept,” he said. Without much care for the squires and knights filtering out, he set to readying himself. Cravat, off. Jacket, shed. Gloves, tucked one inside the other. And Eirika’s handkerchief, tucked neatly into his vest pocket. 

Xander from Fire Emblem Fates!

It’s kind of old now, but I had lots of fun drawing this!

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(( Please do not repost, edit or use my illustrations without my permission! ))

@chevalier-dargent

Knighthood was hardly a foreign concept to Nohr. Xander’s first retainers had been a model for him to follow, and one he tried to emulate not only for his new pair, but for his son. But to say it was the norm would be a stretch, at best. He’d half expected the same of Renais: perhaps a few good men, but ultimately, many using titles and rank to abuse those beneath them. 

Instead, he found chivalry to be, apparently, the rule, rather than the exception. His cursory spars revealed only proper conduct, though the junior knights seemed intimidated by him. Finally, he spotted one who seemed to be a cut above the rest in dress and poise. Perhaps the captain? He thought he recalled Eirika mentioning his name. 

He seemed to be hard at work, and Xander worried he was an interruption. (Not that a knight of this caliber would ever let that on, given his own station.) 

“I was hoping, provided you have the time, that you might show me a bit of Renaitian fighting techniques. I’ve seen a bit of Queen Eirika’s swordsmanship, and King Ephraim did insist on a spar, but when it comes to more martial styles, I haven’t had the chance to learn.” 

They were meant to return to Windmire in the morning, after a particularly successful peacekeeping trip with the Ice Tribe. Unfortunately for all of Xander’s plans, the cabin they’d stayed in – quite humble, deliberately so – was rather remote. Remote enough that even should he dig them out himself, he’d still have all the roads to face. There was no way their mounts could travel back in such conditions. 

He turned to Eirika, the curtains all drawn to show the heavy snowfall. They had plenty of firewood, fresh water, and food that he could prepare, at least, but he still felt a pang of guilt. She had to be eager to return to her home.

Xander almost wanted to offer more reassurance, or to ask for it – are you certain?  But her grip seemed confirmation enough, her fingers gentle in his hair and her face lingering so close as they broke the kiss. (And they’d shared so much, after all, that he felt more secure than ever in this. For once, he was sure someone else understood, that at any moment either of them might change their mind and the evening would continue normally, without tension or fear.) 

“I regret to inform you that you’ll need to leave the blankets. And the fire, most likely – unless your thought was – ah – here?” 

Right here seemed a touch extreme, even with spontaneity in mind. He couldn’t imagine it would be comfortable for her, even with the blankets and his cloak. 

“It’s warmer in the bedroom, besides.” 

Right there was oddly tempting, even knowing it would be uncomfortable. Something in Xander’s voice always changed when he was confident: a dark timbre that sent a thrill through her. She was kissing up his jaw before he’d even finished speaking. 

“Warmer is better,” she agreed. “Take us there, then.” 

He’d held her before, helped her off her mount or shifted her weight off his shoulder or lap. But he’d never lifted her in full the way he did then, encompassing her in his broad arms. There was a thrill there he’d never taken in his own strength, how effortless it felt to lift her, how sure he was she wouldn’t mind. (It was easy to forget, at times, how much smaller she was than himself; her presence at his side was always so much greater than her frame suggested.)

old doodle~

They were meant to return to Windmire in the morning, after a particularly successful peacekeeping trip with the Ice Tribe. Unfortunately for all of Xander’s plans, the cabin they’d stayed in – quite humble, deliberately so – was rather remote. Remote enough that even should he dig them out himself, he’d still have all the roads to face. There was no way their mounts could travel back in such conditions. 

He turned to Eirika, the curtains all drawn to show the heavy snowfall. They had plenty of firewood, fresh water, and food that he could prepare, at least, but he still felt a pang of guilt. She had to be eager to return to her home.

It did feel sudden, but at the same time, right. Without her even saying a word of it, Xander recalled their careful plans and assurances, the way they’d assuaged his fears but also escalated them – how would he know it was the right time? what if he judged incorrectly? 

But her fingers were so tight, and her kiss so welcoming, and there was something in her gaze and her voice. (What better time than alone, when they were each interested? It wasn’t as if he could mark such emotions on a calendar –) 

“If you’d like – if it’s not too much.” His tone was careful, but his hand slipped lower, to the small of her back, waiting to catch some kind of confirmation before he pressed too far. “Perhaps these things are better… spontaneous?” 

“Perhaps,” Eirika echoed. Even the slightest deepening of his touch had her arching closer toward him. It meant no time to overthink and grow nervous, and a casual start might make it easier to slow, if they needed to. (Though right now, slow felt like the opposite of what she needed.) She kissed Xander again, running a hand through his hair, hoping it wasn’t so forward as to be unladylike. 

“I regret to inform you that you’ll need to leave the blankets. And the fire, most likely -- unless your thought was -- ah -- here?” 

Right here seemed a touch extreme, even with spontaneity in mind. He couldn’t imagine it would be comfortable for her, even with the blankets and his cloak.