Emmeryn approaches the azure-haired woman, a bouquet of daisies and chrysanthemums held loosely in her arms, tied off with a teal ribbon. There is a strange familiarity in the woman’s two-toned ocean eyes, a pull Emmeryn can’t quite describe.
“I heard it is your birthday. You’re Ylissean, are you not?” she smiles and holds the flowers out to the other. “As am I. Here, happy birthday. It is such a comfort to see fellow countrymen here in Fódlan – I do hope we can become friends.”
✴ —— she finds herself stricken. the regal mien of a fellow exalt briefly shifting for a moment of the other woman long possessing a kingly air. here she is, one of her failures, one of the people she wanted so dearly to meet. love is in her gaze, so like lucina in loving the world, in loving others yet her grace is entirely exalt emmeryn’s own.
( aunt emmeryn. )
“ .... milady, i am indeed ylissean. “ she bows half way; a practiced gesture and it seems that even for her sake, lying of her origins for history’s sake, the nature of a ruler is gilded naturally to lucina’s very being. “ it...” i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry. i was too late. i didn’t plan enough, i didn’t guide well enough forgive me aunt, oh aunt oh aunt! i’m so sorry please forgive me i wanted to meet you i wanted -- !
yet instead lucina gives a genuine smile; tinges of sadness not even she can hide in her eyes as her hands gently reach for the flowers; calloused, yearning palms, yearning for her love she never knew -- reach for her aunt’s. they are calloused from countless battlefields none if any could ever imagine in counting on her hands; scarred beyond measure. they are hardly so soft as hers. it shames her, in her presence, in a shared light of love and and a mercy entirely emmeryn’s. no one else’s.
if only her aunt hadn’t made that choice! if only lucina had been wiser!
“ i...” do not swallow. you have swallowed everything for years.
“ nothing...nothing would make me happier than being an ally and friend to you.” what an odd turn of phrase; but the semblances of both her brother and the hero-king’s delicate yet firm features are eerie in full measure. or the indescribable grief and joy intermingled.
“these flowers are...they’re beautiful! i must...i must cherish them in my room and when they wilt, i will dry and place them as ornaments. “ i would have cherished you all my life.i want to tell you so badly. aunt i...i...!
“... you have such kindness in your eyes. it...is a gift in itself to many, i’m sure of it.” lucina wants to leave. lucina wants to run, for once in her life, and crack among the boughs of the trees and flowers. perhaps she’s forgotten how. “ how could anyone decline such an offer?” realizing her hands are still tenderly, protectively, lingering in hers, the fellow exalt and above all...her niece, removes her grip slowly, almost reluctantly.
“ ... to be friends with the woman who has endured much for the sake of peace and given all her love to her people, and to call her friend is...more than enough of a birthday present in spring. it is an honor. “ aunt, i would embrace you. aunt in this moment i long to embrace you, aunt give me strength like everything i’ve lost to bear my love in silence, aunt oh aunt -- i want to be yours, not simply your friend but to belong to you!
she offers one last strangely, indescribably loving smile that speaks of more than a subject but an impossibly devoted, grief filled love, before lucina looks upon what she views as one of her failures...
........and bows, excusing herself with a soft, ( thankfully not strangled ) thank you.
she has to leave before she knows,
before she spills in her arms.
