Commission sketch for AyraChloéMarisaLyn’sHusband (Summoner) with Legendary Ayra, and carrying little keychains of his four faves (Ayra, Chloé, Marisa, Lyn) 🤗
Prompt: dutiful/admiration, for @fireemblemfemslashweek
Fandom: Fire Emblem 4
Pairing: Ayra/Edain
Rating/Length: G, ~800 words
Title: from afar
Edain longs for what she can’t have.
Edain had always known that, deep down, she was a selfish person, prioritizing her own wants over her duties. She had never liked the idea of training as a knight under her father, never liked holding a sword or riding a horse, even though those were the most direct ways to serve the people of Jungby. Violence seemed far too messy a deed, one that left no one happy in the end.
When Brigid had disappeared, it took but a brief moment before she knew finding her was the new most important task to her. The priests at Bragi Tower were happy to give her lectures and guidance, to speak of the diaspora of their clerics across the continent. It had seemed a perfect solution to searching for her sister; she would see far more people and have far more allies to question than she would by being a knight. It was the least she could do to dedicate herself to religious duties when she was taking advantage of the clergy.
And now here she was, years later, finding herself ready to stray from the vows of chastity. It wasn’t unusual at all for that vow to be largely ignored, but Edain had been using it for ages to turn down the nobles who expressed interest in the only daughter of the duke of Jungby. It was what she had used to turn down Jamke’s gentle advances, heart heavy, for he had given so much at her word.
It was simply that she had never had much interest in anyone, or so she thought, for here she was, pining over a woman from an enemy nation. Ayra carried herself with a simple grace, the posture of a noble and the light step of a dexterous fighter. Her swing never faltered on the battle field, her blade always glinting with a deadly sheen, no matter how much blood it spilled the day before.
Edain couldn’t help but admire Ayra’s dedication to her chosen task in life of aiding Sigurd to keep her nephew safe. She carried out even the simplest task with steady silence. In their occupation of Agusty, she hadn’t once complained about being asked to help with the menial tasks around the castle. Many of the servants had fled with its fall, and Sigurd was too kind-hearted to ask for any citizens to aid the force occupying them. To keep his band from growing idle, they had been assigned to complete various chores around the manor.
As of now, Ayra had been assigned to assist Edain in preparing food. She had assumed Ayra would have no problem with cutting up vegetables, but, well.
Edain peered over Ayra’s shoulder at the dreadful carnage, biting her lip to hold back laughter.
“Perhaps I should have demonstrated first,” she said gently. Ayra grunted.
“A knife is a lot smaller than a sword. Much harder to wield.” At that, Edain glanced at the way Ayra’s calloused hand was wrapped around the knife. That would explain what had become of the carrots.
“I can only imagine. It took me quite some time to pick this skill up. Father didn’t often want us running underfoot in the kitchens.” She reached for the hand holding the knife. “May I?”
Ayra looked at her briefly, face unreadable, but nodded. She lightly took ahold of Ayra’s slender fingers, correcting her grip. With the other hand she guided Ayra’s free hand to an intact potato. Ayra was quiet, but didn’t protest, keeping her shoulders squared against Edain’s weight as she leaned forward.
“You hold it like this, to lower the chance of cutting off a fingertip. And then you slice from there.” Hands over Ayra’s, she led her through the process, front pressed just barely against her back. At the end, she pulled back.
“I understand.” Ayra said solemnly, staring down at the chopping board with a strange intensity. Perhaps that level of physical contact had been beyond what Ayra had expected.
“Let me know once you’re done, and we can pass this off to the ones doing the cooking.” Edain turned away, focus on her own share of the vegetables. She could hear Ayra moving behind her, knife hitting the wood slowly at first and then faster as she fell into a rhythm.
Edain’s thoughts wandered again, to wondering if this was all she would ever have. It was the reasonable thing, considering they were in the middle of such wretched political turmoil, a messy war with no end in sight. But Sigurd and Lady Deirdre had found love despite it all, and they seemed happy enough. On the other hand, her priority right now was to keep Sigurd’s battalion healthy, and to keep her eyes peeled for any sign of her sister. To wish for more was arrogant, and Ayra had her own loyalties and homeland to return to. Their meeting was naught but a coincidence, a fleeting overlapping of their goals. There was no future here, not one Edain dared to let herself hope for.
