no goodbyes / drabble.
He almost got cold feet. Almost waited until the last possible second, hand clenching and unclenching on the doorknob. Surely she’d be busy preparing right now? A visit from him would only be a distraction...
Inigo, don’t be an idiot.
Before he can quadruple-guess himself, Inigo bursts out of his room. Finds her door slightly ajar, and even with the open door policy they so favor, it’s rude to walk into a lady’s room unannounced. Knuckles rap softly on the wood.
“Lucina?” Dancer enters, face tinting pink.
“Um, I just came by to wish you well on the journey. I...” gods, he really should have rehearsed this in his head more.
Plasters on a smile. “I hope you don’t have too much fun without me! Promise you’ll come back, and I’ll take you out to tea so we can laugh about our trips...” cuts his rambling off with a slight cough.
Anxiety crashes over him like a wave. Inigo brings to retreat, whispering “come back to me, Lucina,” before leaving as quickly as he arrived .
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✴ —— an air of eerie silence falls on both monarch, friend, and princess. it had fallen upon her even more than usual as she had been found; idly perusing the list and details of both the accompanier, an already curious fellow named ‘milo’ and . . a rather interesting situation with these ‘relics’ she’d yet to fully investigate. fingers that had idly perused with scarred tissue beneath her half-gloves the complete lack of any of her own. no morgan, no cynthia, she’s even heard word her own cousin was here, gods be good...and certainly no inigo, if his ashen expression as she finished perusing all too calmly the list without her people and friend’s names was absent.
absent in that her eyes would not be able to watch them, to lead them. absent in that she would not be there to step in front no matter the world, no matter the situation, and fight by their side if anything insidious emerged; and wisdom and unfathomable experience...told her it would. a clench that has been like a fist in her heart continues to grip and will not cease as inigo paces her room; watches the exalt who seems almost like a worn, solitary bright light of a statue in the room. . .
“ remember everything you’ve learned and known and use it. “ it’s calm, but quiet, in response to what he says. there’s a desperation beneath the surface that is well hidden, well placed. a terror and rising bile in her throat at the idea that she will not be there to shield him this time. that even now she cannot even wield falchion, a companion in hell, a companion in heart and comfort of soul.
“ remember everything as painful as it is, i know, and...use that wisdom to aid those here that will never know what we know.
use it for your survival because this by no means will be your greatest challenge, but it remains that. a challenge. make sure....you also talk to everyone else. i have to leave early, you see...and i’d like you check on them. please.” finally she glances at him; mismatched in color and branded in the left are her eyes; eerily glittering pale blue and royal sapphire in a somewhat fitting tandem. as if her very brand glows like a keen star that has ever led and guided the way. not this time.
her mouth is not smiling. not the calmly gentle; ever benevolent look that he would know, that many of her friends would know in few but impactful moments. it’s a firm, pained line. the way inigo stammers is so similar to when they were children; arms full of flowers for her. how his voice ached with something she feels she is nearing the end of discovery towards; and also its beginning, but there is no time for that now.
or perhaps she knows, and finds herself only able to be this because the prospect is yet another thing she feels undeserving of. a leader first, king, exalt, princess, commander, whatever phrasing, prioritizing his life over her own, as ever . a shepherd like her father, inigo a lethal, but all the same sheep eternally curled in her heart. perhaps deeper than she will let herself open her eyes at last to.
carefully she treads towards the room; walking purposefully towards him and halting his escape route with a firm but ever unsettling quiet for lucina, in her voice.
“inigo. don’t...don’t worry about me. as ever i’m thankful for you staying by our side, my side, but...you are in a place, you are all in a place i cannot be there for, you realize? even if you say i no longer need feel so, i will all my remaining life. please...try to understand my silence.
it is ... i’m frustrated. i have utmost faith in all of you in this endeavor. i know you are more seasoned than all in this academy, after all who can say what you all have endured? none. not that i ever wished it for you. “ her heart is racing like a galloping pegasi in grief; tumult; a quiet defiance of the list for how dare it keep her from her people, her own, her friends, her family, though no temper burns; only that all consuming, white-hot light to protect and once more defy her circumstances.
“....i will return.” keen senses and nights ever awake with watchful eye over her flock as the shepherd held falchion’s holy hilt against her side do aid her in hearing his whispered voice. her own voice considerably softer, yet strong where he trembles. she must be. if both crumble nothing good will come. she must let him know that she endures; she has always endured; for ylisse, for them, for the world. she will do so again.
but he must as well.
“ .... tell everyone you see that’s one of ours to take a breath, unless of course, you’re cynthia who i imagine will, “ hitched voice; but fond, no tears, only grief in her voice, “be most earnest. still i worry for her always. my brother, of course. my cousin? let him know...” i will not say tell him i love him, because he will be alright, she thinks though the phrase is clearly unspoken. every name uttered from the second generation of ylisse’s shepherds are laced in lucina’s love for them. her protective light.
when she finally smiles; as ever, it seems laced in that quiet, faint sorrow that never leaves. that fully kind smile with a hint of sadness. her suggestions made clear, the crown softens its might in gold. “and if it’s just you, try not to flirt overmuch, yes? what will i do if you come back and we are unable to have tea since you’ve once again done something silly and unlike your real self? something like have another woman there already? i’ll think you’re jesting once again! oh, and by the way...
you can’t flirt with the enemy. now i try to jest. there may and likely will be one. it all seems very contrived. but you know me, i am far too wary, or perhaps this is wisdom in the harshest sense...” oh to be old and wise and nineteen. who would ever want it once you had it?
her hand gently clasps both his arms before he can flee. he can see the battered, torn tissue of lucina’s hands and fingers; flesh that has borne sacred steel and scar tissue from facing armies both together and alone. of the devil himself, of fate and time and trial again and again until the soft hands he once held as a child laughing innocently as a fair princess are but distant memories. they are now battered and worn beyond recognition. a small price, for hope, she thinks. i never really minded if they were beautiful.
“go, i’ll be fine, you fool. worry about you. you know me. i’ll be alright. just come back safely and well, is all i ask. and use your kindness to comfort those who are not as brave nor experienced as you. it has served me far often greater even than your blade. it always will. “ lucina knows her insides for being unrattled bone and steel are pulsing with the memories of their bodies battered on battlefields, again and again -- her broken cries unheard in her heart, ‘when will we rest, when can we rest?’.
oh. this feeling...she knows it. it is anguish.
“ .... or if you come back first, set the table. i’ll...be very glad to have that tea.” gripping his arms assuringly, not too harsh nor too firm now, but gentle and ever protective, his exalt and friend finally lets go.
“ safe travels, inigo. i will see you when i return.. i know you will. all of you. “
she swallows the ingrained sentence she’s spoken so many times in the past years:
just stay alive, is all i ask.