Seeing that shining blue makes her blood boil, simmering in her chest as she tries to hold back the best she can from causing a scene. It is almost the same shade of blue as that infernal child, that defect, wears halfway in their hair. It is the same blue that glimmered from a ring worn as she faced her end. And it is the same blue that plagues her now. He had looked much better when summoned by Lord Sombron, red with rage and the stain of blood.
Seeing him here and happy while she'd had to die and leave Lord Sombron behind, it almost makes her want to stride over and give him a true piece of her mind. But she can be civil. She must think of it as another thing she has to do to serve Lord Sombron, then there is nothing for her to worry about.
"Marth-" His name comes out as more as a sting than she had meant for it, barbs splintering at the edge of her tongue while everything else about her body language conveyed someone who simply wanted a nice, civil chat. This may not be the same Marth from within the rings, rather the real Marth, the one from the stories of heroes told of the rings, but he still shares that face, the one that she had stared down as her life faded. "How... unexpected to see you here, darling. The great Hero King, at a simple academy. How noble of you."
The 'great Hero-King' turns- senses balking with alarm, confusion, then at last realization at the venomous inflection in the woman's voice. Just like his encounter with Alear, the notion of familiarity to which Marth can offer no understanding is the same, and, just like Alear, this stranger must derive her knowledge of him from an echo; the Hero-King belonged to another world. Though he still grapples with acceptance over the newfound knowledge, it is the most reasonable explanation that exists to date in explaining such strange, one-sided encounters. Weighing heavily toward love or hatred while Marth himself possessed no memory of a former meeting.
But... upon first look there is one point of nostalgia that follows his inspection of the other. Friends, enemies, acquaintances, gods- dragons have taken so many a shape across his life that to identify their kind is a perk of natural progression. That same area of expertise shines an illuminating light upon the woman before him.
Ears uniquely slanted into fine points, serpentine pupils gouging into the middle of the iris, and even the indiscernible metric of strangeness that an inhuman presence can hold to full, such signs serve unfailingly to signal that she is dragon. Of this there is no mistake. Even if his eyes should fail him then surely it will be the heart that knows just as well. But this dragon... this one defines his very dread, come in the form of a mage dragon; belonged to a tribe flowing with countless villains upon his native continent. To the one that stole from him a mother.
Surprise gives way to a middling ground, suspended between horror and judgement, a clench of his fingers, and then—
"You are new to the academy, I presume? Welcome." All inhibition is cut away by the shears of hospitality. While a smile, too, can be a weapon, the king wields his only in complete sincerity. Whatever the distasteful experiences between this woman and the Hero-King that walked- floated- before, in his eyes their present encounter is a seed that has yet to sprout in any sort of way. "A denizen of distant Elyos is clear in these parts, milady.... your way of speech informs me that you are plenty informed of my whereabouts. The version of me that once resided in your land, anyway."
The same wise eyes peer back at her, the same blue they may be, and even an identical soul churning behind the difference of skin, bone, and flesh, but it is memories that make a man in the end. Or a ghost. His gaze does not flicker with recognition and in its place is a curious, prodding warmth. "—I am not your Hero-King I am sorry to say. I know little of you, not even a name. But if you will introduce yourself then perhaps here we can start anew."
