WriterEmblem (FE Fics)

This just in: Lit major spends her free time writing cute FIre Emblem fics because she's in Hell.

[writeremblemfics]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Ephraim/L'Arachel (Fire Emblem) Characters: Ephraim (Fire Emblem), L'Arachel (Fire Emblem), Forde (Fire Emblem), Lute (Fire Emblem), Eirika (Fire Emblem), Seth (Fire Emblem) Additional Tags: Fluff, Comedy, Light Smut, Awkward Flirting, Pre-Relationship Summary:

After the events of Ephraim and L'Arachel's B support, L'Arachel seeks help from her friends about confronting her feelings for the densest prince alive.

[writeremblemfics]

The Angry Tactician is Not Impressed pt. 2/4

48 Hours Until Celebration

“Alright, Your Majestys, let me know if you need anything,” Kyle served two cups of steaming-hot tea to the two figures perched at the tiny table in Eirika’s quarters and bowed respectfully before making his exit.

“Thanks, Kyle,” Eirika called after him. The princess turned her attention to her oaf of a brother, whose bedhead reached unprecedented levels of fluffiness and whose eyes were barely cracked open. “You alive, bro?”

“Mhm,” Ephraim grunted vaguely.

“Here, have some tea and perk up. We need to talk strategy.” In contrast to her usual breezy kindness, Eirika’s tone was all business this morning. “We have a time crunch, and we really can’t have Innes interfering with our plans. He grilled Tana last night and we were almost found out.”

“Need more help?” the king yawned.

“You are helping. You have a very important job this time.”

“Is it training?” Ephraim was suddenly wide awake. He took a big gulp of tea, only to burn his mouth on the searing liquid and nearly choke. As he coughed violently, Eirika patted his back.

“You okay?” The girl asked, at war with herself over whether she should laugh or be legitimately concerned.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ephraim managed.

“Anyway,” Eirika cleared her throat. “we can’t do the same thing every day, we need a bigger diversion.  I’ve enlisted some backup.”

“Backup?”

There was a sharp knock on the door. “Right on time. Come in,” Eirika said.

Right on cue, Franz and Amelia marched into the room, posture stick-straight and eyes brimming with eager determination. “We are here to serve, Your Majestys!” chanted the young knights in unison.

“Wonderful,” Eirika beamed. “I need you two to help my brother occupy Innes for the day so we can make arrangements for  his party. And not a word of this to the other castle staff, alright?”

“I won’t fail you,” Franz clenched his fist.

“Milady, if word gets out, I will rip out my own vocal cords as penance.” Amelia vowed, stone-faced.

“Amelia, that… won’t be necessary.”

“You gotta admit, the kids have balls,” Forde burst into the room, planting himself between the two and tousling their hair in a brotherly fashion.

“Brother,” Franz pouted, swatting away Forde’s hand.

“We are all present, save for His Majesty Innes,” Kyle announced, closing the door behind him. “We’ve finished the preparations to travel to the mountains.”

“The mountains?” Ephraim glanced at his sister in askance.

“The six of you are going monster-hunting,” Eirika grinned.

 ~~ After a tense, hours-long trek into the heart of the mountains, the hunting party began to notice an ominous aura hanging in the air. Even though none of them were particularly attuned to magic, something felt… off about their surroundings. The mountain ecosystem that normally teemed with life was noticeably void of animals, and the plant life appeared dull, pressed downward by some invisible force.

“Milord, this is the place the scouts mentioned,” Franz hopped off his horse and approached the group, who’d been waiting further behind for his report. “We’ve sighted monsters that haven’t been seen since the Demon King’s defeat.”

“Strange,” Innes mused, poring over the map and stroking his chin. “Could this mean a surge in demonic activity? An attempt by a dark mage to...” Innes cut himself off, thinking better of mentioning Lyon’s fate at the hands of the Demon King.

Truthfully, Ephraim had no idea how monsters had reappeared in Magvel. When he’d asked Eirika about it, she’d simply given him a devious smirk and replied, “You’ll see.”

“Right now, it’s important that we eliminate the threat. We can examine the source later,” suggested Kyle, to which the rest of the party nodded in agreement.

“How about a little wager to spice this up?” Forde suggested, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Is now really the time?” Innes frowned.

“Hmm, so you don’t think you can kill more monsters than ol’ Ephraim here? I see.”

“No one said that,” Innes bristled. “If we are keeping score, I’ll certainly emerge victorious.”

“You’re on,” Ephraim readied his lance.

Their banter was interrupted by a piercing howl that echoed off of the mountainside. “There!” Amelia pointed to a rocky outcropping in the distance where an imposing canine figure stood stock still, yellow mane blazing in the harsh sunlight, fangs bared, glowing, hellish eyes boring into his prospective prey.

“Is that a Mauthe Doog?” Franz asked. From his post to the right of the young man, Ephraim could see the boy’s sword-arm quiver.

“No, it’s a Gwyllgi,” Forde corrected. “Fully grown, much more dangerous. Stay on your toes, Little Brother.”

“Strange, they don’t usually travel alone,” Kyle muttered.

“It isn’t alone,” Innes gestured with his bow to the pack of prowling beasts surrounding them on all sides, a mix of young monsters with red and black fur, and their elders, with noticeably bigger teeth jutting from their maws and manes glowing yellow. “The leader signaled its pack. We need to stick together and fight as one, don’t let them isolate you or you’re as good as dead.”

Nice job, Eirika, Ephraim groaned internally, maybe now Innes will never know about his birthday party. Because he won’t live to see it.

Ephraim counted three heartbeats of tense silence, then everything was a blur of chaotic melee.

“Innes, on your left!” Ephraim roared, yanking his lance from the corpse of an elder beast and reacting just in time to hold off a second, which clamped its jaws in the middle of his weapon. The king of Renais kicked the Gwyllgi off and it crashed into the canyon wall, slumping to the ground, dazed.

Before Ephraim could finish the job, an arrow sprouted from the monster’s forehead. “That’s another one for me,” Innes deadpanned.

“Hey, that was mine!” Ephraim protested. “I did all the work!”

“But you couldn’t follow through, what a shame.” There was a wicked smile on the archer’s face as he aimed his bow right over Ephraim’s shoulder, laying another beast to waste before it could pounce. “This is fun, it’s as if I never left the battlefield,” he mocked.

“Watch your mouth, dastard,” Ephraim took a bounding leap and skewered a charging predator midair, muscles burning as he drove it into the ground. “Point, Ephraim.”

“Hey, lovebirds!” Forde snapped. “Three of the Mauthe Doogs ganged up on Amelia, get over here.”

All of the humor evaporated from their faces as the two men charged after Forde. Abruptly, the knight stopped in the face of a steep incline, and Ephraim had to firmly grasp Innes’ arm and yank him back against his chest to keep the Frelian king from taking a nasty fall.

“Don’t die,” Ephraim growled.

Instead of a ‘thank you’, Innes notched an arrow and pointed it at the scuffle below. Amelia was fighting valiantly, having bested two of her three pursuers. But her stance swayed, her blonde hair was plastered to her forehead and there were claw and teeth marks marring her prized red armor. The lone remaining creature circled her, seeking an opening.

“Can you hit that thing and miss Amelia?” Ephraim asked.

“Obviously,” Innes closed one eye. But before he could take a shot, Franz came thundering down the incline, eyes rimmed red with rage and a mix of adrenaline and gravity spurring him forward at superhuman speed.

“Ameliaaaaaaaaa!” He cried, catching the Mauthe Doog in the jaw with his shield and sending it flying. With that opening, Innes finished the job in the blink of an eye. The monster lay still.

“Amelia,” Franz sobbed, throwing his arms around her as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. “You’re alive.”

Stunned, Amelia tentatively patted the boy’s back, a tired smile gracing her lips. “I’m okay. My rival got to me in time.”

“Are you hurt?” Kyle skidded down the slope, followed by the rest of the party. Forde practically had to pry a blubbering Franz off of his companion so they could examine her.

“No major injuries,” Kyle reported. “But we should get her checked out by the healers once we get home.”

“Maybe,” Franz managed, swiping at his eyes and trying to regain his composure, “maybe we can take a rest in that cave over there.”

“Wait,” Ephraim commanded. Everyone froze. “If the monsters have returned, we can’t travel through the caves. Remember?”

It dawned on the others, and Forde gave a disgusted groan. “I hate spiders.”

“What should we do now?” Franz asked tentatively. “Isn’t it our mission to wipe out the monsters here?”

“Demonic beasts aren’t naturally occurring,” Innes mused. “We need to find the source. If we can do that, we won’t need to fight every monster directly.”

“What are we looking for, then?” Amelia cocked her head to he side.

“A dark mage, a suspicious gateway, ancient runes or artifacts, maybe?” Innes shrugged.

Eirika has to know, Ephraim figured. But bringing Innes back this early from the expedition could be problematic. “Amelia, are you alright to keep going?”

“Of course!” Amelia showed no hesitation. “I won’t slow you down.”

“If you’re okay, that’s good. Innes?” Ephraim grinned. “You’re our tactician, I’ll defer to your judgement. What’s the best course of action here?”

Innes paused, deep in thought. “Heading toward the summit might be our best bet. We can get a good vantage point.”

“Roger,” Ephraim gave him a playful salute. “Let’s head out, then.”

The group pressed on, making their way up as quickly as possible while taking Amelia into consideration. They ran into monster after monster; a cyclops here, a stray Bael there. Ephraim and Innes were tied for kills, growing frustrated that neither could develop a significant lead.

They were nearly at the mountain’s peak when Franz, who had been stuck to Amelia’s side like glue the whole way, let out a gasp. “Wait.”

The party came to a halt, following his line of sight to a large stone that blocked their path up ahead. The closer Ephraim looked, the more the mound of rock began to resemble a human silhouette. It cast a long, jagged shadow on the uneven ground.

“Allow me to inspect,” Kyle offered. “Forde, come with me.”

“I’m good here,” Forde folded his arms, but contrary to his words, he followed his

friend to get a closer look. Unable to quell their curiosity, the others inched forward after him. “Gods, it’s definitely a person.”

Amelia put a hand to her heart, voice shaking. “Do you see that crest? It’s a soldier from Grado.”

A hush fell over the party. “Only one culprit comes to mind,” Innes furrowed his brow.

“It couldn’t possibly be a gorgon—” The companions traded tense looks. Gorgons were some of the most dangerous monsters in Magvel. Not only were these grotesque fusions of snake and woman skilled at magic, but one well-aimed spell could petrify even the mightiest warrior.

From the summit, there came a hissing shriek, a surge of dark magic that barely missed the party and blasted the rock face behind them. “Run!” Ephraim commanded. That proved redundant, everyone’s feet were already flying, frantically thundering down the mountainside. They were all short of breath from the elevation and tired from their full day of hiking, it was all the warriors could do to dodge falling rocks and keep from tumbling to their deaths. Kyle and Forde led the way, with Franz and Amelia at their heels and Ephraim and Innes bringing up the rear a fair bit behind.

“This is bad, that thing has the high ground, and who knows if we can outrun it,” Innes panted. “Also, if its attacks don’t let up soon, we could be dealing with a full-on landslide.”

“That means we’ll need to beat it quickly,” Ephraim huffed. “If that’s the case, I’ll hold it off and the rest of you go on ahead—”

“Absolutely not!” The archer barked. “You have a death wish?”

“Innes,” Ephraim stopped short, readying his weapon and turning toward the pursuing beast. “I don’t pick fights I can’t win.”

The King of Frelia was speechless. Staring. Scowling. He looked torn between leaving the foolish lancer to die and backing him up, but as the gorgon rounded the corner and barreled into sight, he settled on the latter. He notched an arrow.

“Haaah!” Ephraim cried, lunging forward to swipe at the monster’s undulating snake-torso. His strike was too shallow, only leaving an oozing scratch on its scaly hide. Innes loosed his arrow to similarly small effect. The gorgon reared back, enraged, magic pooling between its spindly human hands. Only now did it sink in for Ephraim that the mountain path was too narrow to dodge magic at close-range. There was nowhere to go but backward as the gorgon readied its petrifying blow.

Everything seemed to slow down. Ephraim briefly registered Innes leaping in front of him in a futile attempt to shield him, directly into the path of the oncoming spell.

Was this the end for both of them?

Instead of pain or nothingness, however, there was a blinding flash of light. The air was thick with magical energy, but the cold menace of dark magic was soon overwhelmed by a sudden, life-affirming warmth.

When the spell faded, Ephraim was met with the shaking form of a panting priest, his red curls disheveled and his staff raised to the heavens. Ephraim was shocked nearly speechless.

“A-Artur?”

The young man let out a relieved smile. “King Ephraim, King Innes, you’re safe.”

“Good timing,” Innes managed, struggling with the shock of nearly being turned to stone.

“I’m sorry,” Artur looked sheepishly from the king of Renais to the king of Frelia. “I should have kept a closer eye on her.”

“Her?” DId he mean the gorgon?

“Hey, Artie!” An excited voice called from below, and all at once, Ephraim understood their situation. “You seen my gorgon egg?”

“Lute,” Artur’s lips were pressed into a hard line. “I thought we agreed, no gorgons.”

The mage prodigy, her dark purple hair longer and her expression somehow conveying more curiosity and mischief than ever before, laid eyes on her visitors and laughed. “Well, if it isn’t my fellow saviors of Magvel. Well-met, I suppose.”

“Is this your doing?” Innes could barely contain the fury in his voice.

“Don’t be so dull,” Lute drawled. “There is danger in the pursuit of knowledge, but that inevitability cannot quash exploration.”

“‘Inevitability’ my ass, we nearly died!” Innes fumed, standing toe to toe with the source of the day’s adrenaline. Lute, despite the massive height difference, stared unflinchingly in the face of the archer’s rage, head tilted in defiance.

“Please, Dear, be polite,” Artur begged. “They’re royalty, they could banish us.”

“They would never--”

“We would never--” Ephraim and Lute spoke simultaneously, and upon realizing it, the two broke into hearty laughter.

“I’m glad the two of you aren’t statues,” Lute smirked. “Would you care for a cup of tea and a hot meal? Artur was about to get started on dinner.”

“We couldn’t possibly impose,” Ephraim scratched his neck.

“Nonsense, gather the rest of your party and meet at the house.” Lute gestured past path to a modest yet cute little dwelling tucked into the mountainside. Surrounding the house were patches of mountain herbs and ingredients for various elixirs drying out in the sun.

“How did you know we brought a hunting party?” Innes asked suspiciously.

“Would two kings travel in the mountains alone?” Lute rolled her eyes. “That would be foolish.” The mage shot Ephraim a subtle little wink before leading the way. He wondered if his sister knew how far Lute had taken her mission, how much real danger they would face. Somehow, he doubted it.

[writeremblemfics]

The Angry Tactician is Not Impressed pt. 1/4

A/n: So my friend who ships Innes x Ephraim requested that I write her a little something involving Ephraim, his Christmas cav comrades, and our grumpy boi. In this story, Ephraim and friends must distract Innes so Tana can plan his surprise birthday party. However, things get a bit out of hand...

Pairing: Innes x Ephraim, light Amelia x Franz Fandom: FE8, The Sacred Stones Rating: PG ish

Chapter 1

Ephraim pushed his reading glasses up onto the bridge of his nose, squinting at lines upon lines of text that, through his bleary eyes, looked more and more like meaningless squiggles. The new King of Renais was swamped with more work than he knew what to do with; determined to be a responsible ruler, but work-weary. He would have given anything to trade his cramping hands for sore muscles, his foreign policy briefings for an invigorating spar.

For their part, Kyle and Forde, the king’s right-hand knights and closest friends, stayed by Ephraim’s side, wading in a veritable mountain of paperwork each.

It was around noon when a messenger slipped in soundlessly, dropping among Ephraim’s nest of papers a pastel-pink envelope bearing Tana’s personal seal. The sight of his friend’s correspondence elicited Ephraim’s first smile of the day; and that little grin was enough to cause a commotion in his previously-silent office.

“Ephraim,” Forde whined, smacking his palm against his forehead. “Why did you move? I was on a roll.”

“Did you really just ask me why I moved?” The young king rolled his eyes at his typically lackadaisical retainer. “I’m not a statue.”

“Forde, I know we’ve all been working hard, but there’s no need to take out your stress on His Majesty.” Kyle tapped a thick stack of trade records against his desk, checking once again to make sure they were in order.

“Working? Who said anything about that?” Forde smirked and held up the page he’d been dutifully scrawling on all morning--not a report from the scouting knights, but a portrait of a grumpy-looking Ephraim hunched over his documents. “I was just about to perfect that little wrinkle ‘His Majesty’ gets between the eyebrows when he’d readily impale himself with his own lance over his current task.”

“Needs work, that wrinkle looks like a third eyebrow,” Ephraim said.

“It wouldn’t if you stayed still--”

“Forde,” Kyle’s stack of files smacked the mahogany with a sharp crack. “You mean to tell me you wasted the whole morning on this… this drivel?”

“Hey, it’s a royal portrait for ‘His Majesty’--”

“Were you appointed court painter when I wasn’t looking? Your inaction is a blight on His Majesty’s reputation--”

“Hey. Let’s hold off on the ‘His Majesty’s, you two.” Ephraim rubbed the bridge of his nose and reached for his letter opener. “Such formality is unnecessary when we’re alone.”

“Oooh, alone. How indecent,” Forde mock-swooned, fanning himself with his Ephraim-portrait.

“A message from Princess Tana?” Kyle asked, pointedly ignoring Forde and taking a peek at the contents of the letter.

“Yes. It seems she’s at it again this year.”

Forde hummed. “Does she really think she can pull it off? The guy’s a tactician.”

“To be clear, we are talking about King Innes’ birthday party, correct?” Kyle rubbed his chin.

“Yes.” Ephraim nodded. “The Princess has enlisted our help to ensure the element of surprise. But with such a crafty foe, our tactics will need to be impeccable.”

“What do you suggest, Your Majesty?” Kyle prompted.

Ephraim beamed, eyes sparking with mischief. “A distraction.”

72 Hours Until Celebration

Pulling one over on the King of Frelia would be no easy task. Innes had discovered the plans for his own surprise birthday party for the last three years in a row; for Tana, a fourth would be downright humiliating. So the plan had to be fool-proof--or, better yet, foolhardy. Tana’s letter specified that she and the other Magvel royals had been preparing for weeks, but in the final three days before his birthday, Innes’ suspicions would be at an all-time high.

The solution? For all his strengths, Innes had a reliably exploitable weakness in his rivalry with the newly-crowned Restoration King. He was at his most childish and vulnerable whenever Ephraim was involved, and Tana hoped it would be enough to divert his attention from the final, more conspicuous stages of her party-planning.

“Kyle, status report.” Ephraim crouched low in the bushes, peering through his binoculars to focus on Castle Renais’ state-of the art archery range, where Innes was stringing his bow.

“This morning, the Frelian entourage was greeted by Princess Eirika. After the initial formalities, the Target was invited to ‘make himself at home’.” Kyle whispered. “Naturally, he came straight here.”

“Level of suspicion?”

“Marginal. But Eirika is currently finalizing the venue decor with Princesses Tana and L’Arachel, we must keep him busy ”

“Attitude?”

“Curt as usual.”

“I would have gone with ‘constipated’.” Forde quipped.

“Noted. Move out.”

The three men, practice-swords in hand, set upon the archery range, their objective set and their determination matched.

“Well met, Innes,” Ephraim called out to the lone figure, who seemed characteristically unfazed by the intrusion.

“Ephraim,” The young king extended his hand. “I was under the impression you were wasting away behind a desk, nowadays.”

“I have become rather adept at speed-reading,” Ephraim chuckled. “But I’m afraid my skills on the battlefield are growing rusty.”

Innes took the bait. “Is that so? Shall we put that theory to the test?”

“You sure? It’s been months since you’ve seen battle yourself, my friend.”

Innes raised his bow, drew back his arm and fired off a perfect bullseye in seconds. “I make it a point to keep up my training, unlike some monarchs.”

“What a show-off,” Forde muttered into Kyle’s ear. The latter rolled his eyes.

“You’re fine if we use melee weapons, though?” There was a challenging glint in Ephraim’s eye.

“Certainly. Forde, your sword.” Innes swiped the wooden blade from the air. “Who’ll call the match?”

“Eh, not a fan of sword-measuring,” Forde scratched his head.

“It would be my honor,” Kyle said. The combattants took their positions, squaring off as the tension in the air spiked. Who would make the first move?

Naturally, it was Ephraim. He charged Innes like an enraged bull, his usual lance-reliant fighting style translating into jab after forceful jab with his sword. It was all Innes could do to dodge, one blocked attack sent such a strong vibration up his arm that the Frelian king stifled a grunt.

“This is fun!” Ephraim laughed, “It’s like I never left the battlefield.”

Noticeably pissed by that little quip, Innes mounted his counter-offensive. “So slow,” he hissed, pressing his opponent back with a flurry of precise blows. In contrast to Ephraim’s raw power and messy fighting-style, Innes’ attacks were poised and flowing, a deadly dance.

As the fighting wore on, both combatants managed to land hit after hit, the number of slip-ups increasing with their exhaustion. Finally, Kyle stepped in. “It’s a draw,” he declared. “Take a breather.”

“You’ve improved,” Ephraim chuckled, swiping a towel across his sweaty forehead.

“Maybe you’re regressing,” Innes shot back. But Ephraim could have sworn he noticed the tiniest of smirks playing on the other man’s lips. “Care for another round?”

[writeremblemfics]

Stolen (Lyon x Eirika)

A/n: So I recently played Eirika’s path in the Sacred Stones for the first time, and I am in love. Here’s a cute and tragic little fic for a cute and tragic little pairing. If you haven’t played the game yet, there aren’t actually any spoilers for Sacred Stones in this story, so fear not!

Pair: Eirika x Lyon Fandom: FE8- The Sacred Stones Rating: G

“Lyon.”

The young prince of Grado jolted, suddenly roused from hours of reading dense descriptions of arcane magical rituals to see the face of a certain Renais princess roughly six inches from his own. At first, he was stunned speechless, amethyst eyes widened and eyebrows arched at her proximity. Backlit by the afternoon sun filtering through the trees and framed by swirling autumn leaves, the young woman glowed ethereal, the picture of a forest spirit from a storybook. Her turquoise hair, which usually fell in long tresses down her back, was swept up into a high ponytail, the tip of which barely brushed her pale collarbone. Her chest heaved with exertion, but when she sensed recognition in his eyes, she broke into a beaming grin. “Found you.”

“You found me.” Lyon returned her smile with crinkled eyes. “I didn’t know you were here for a visit, Eirika.”

“Too busy reading to hear news of your dear friends, are you?” The girl teased, righting her posture to take a swig of water from a gourd strapped to her waist. In her free hand she clutched a wooden practice sword from the castle’s armory—a detail which piqued the prince’s curiosity, but which he ignored for the moment.

“Never,” Lyon feigned offense, running his hand through his hair in a self-deprecating gesture. “But you of all people should know I’m prone to forgetfulness. Paired with my laughable constitution, I worry for this country’s future.”

“Stop.” Eirika’s tone was soft, but firm. Chastising, even. She stared straight into his eyes. “Don’t speak so lowly of yourself.”

Lyon’s gaze fell away from hers, suddenly fixated on a multi-colored leaf perched on the edge of the wool blanket draped across his lap. He knew her words were sincere, but such sentiments rang false to him as of late. “Care to join me?” he asked, eager to change the subject.

“Sure,” Eirika seemed to catch on to his mood, and though concern knitted her brow for the briefest moment, she soon wore a content expression, tossing aside her wooden blade and plopping down across from him in the grass.

“Here,” Lyon scooted over and pulled up half of the navy-blue fabric and gestured for her to sit at his side under his favorite tree, a goliath that had to be thousands of years old. “It may be bright out, but the breeze is chilly today.”

Eirika nodded, crawling under the blanket and drawing her knees to her chest, gaze focused on a flock of cackling birds taking wing above the tree-line. Her posture reminded him of her younger self—tiny, meek, unsure. Her eyes, which had always sparkled with vigor, with an innate resilience Lyon could never hope to match, seemed dull this afternoon.

“Eirika.” Unconsciously, Lyon brushed his fingers against the pink blooming across her pale cheek, noting its warmth. “Are you feeling ill?”

“N-No, no. Not at all!” Eirika squeaked in surprise, turning away as her cheeks grew ever rosier. “I… I just ran all the way here is all. I’m tired.”

“Is that so?” Lyon, taken aback by his own actions, let his hand fall gently onto his open tome. “You were training, right? With General Dussel and Ephraim?”

She twisted her ponytail around her fingers, her expression betraying some bitterness. “The knights of Renais observed as well. But…” Eirika faltered, as if she couldn’t dislodge the next words from her throat. “That pig-headed brother of mine… he’s always so rough, but this time he went easy on me. It was so obvious that he was restraining his blows, but still… I could barely keep up.”

“Ephraim cares about you a great deal. What would you have him do, send you flying?” Lyon chuckled dryly.

“If he respected me, then, yes!” Eirika whipped around to face him, and Lyon flinched in shock at her outburst. Even in private around those closest to her, it was rare for Eirika to complain, much less to express displeasure so openly.

“If he respected you?” Lyon repeated, testing the waters.

The princess took a cleansing breath before offering her explanation. “My advisors, the knights, my father… all of them were against teaching me to fight beyond basic self-defense. As you know, I am not one for violence, but such a display… To call in the best Rennais and Grado have to offer to witness a playfight, it’s akin to forcing them to applaud a child’s paltry recital.”

“Even if Ephraim was holding back, matching his blows is nothing if not impressive.” Lyon frowned. “Implying that your skills are childish—I lose to you in training all the time giving it my all, what does that say about me?”

“Lyon…” Eirika shook her head, sheepish. “That’s… it’s not what I meant. It’s not even about beating Ephraim, I know that’s impossible right now. Rather, if my comrades see him blatantly going easy on me, it only confirms that they can’t put their faith in their princess. Though I’m sure Ephraim meant well, I’d prefer being outmatched as usual to a meaningless fight. If I can get back up off the ground in the face of an unbeatable foe, if I can persevere, at least he—at least the others will know my determination.”

Lyon gave her a searching look. ‘He’? The young man felt his chest constrict, envy gnawed at the pit of his stomach. She’d gone out of her way to mention an audience of Renais kights… Upon this realization, his words came a little harsher than he planned. “In other words, you felt ashamed that you couldn’t show off the best parts of yourself to that man… General Seth, is it?”

The effect of his barb was immediate. Eirika went red all the way to her ears. “Wha… what are you saying? Did you not hear me? My honor as a princess and as a warrior-in-training is in question! This isn’t about some… infatuation.” Contrary to her biting words, Eirika couldn’t look her friend in the face. She fidgeted, her hands balled into tight fists. Lyon wished he’d kept his mouth shut, seeing her this way because of another man made him feel hollow.

“And on top of it all, you fled, didn’t you?” Lyon muttered, fiddling with the pages of his tome.

“I couldn’t bear to face their reactions,” Eirika buried her face in her hands, drawing her knees in tighter and letting herself lean against her childhood friend’s shoulder. Her voice was muffled, barely a whisper. “I’m sorry, Lyon. I’m always showing you the worst parts of myself. I don’t want to burden you, but sometimes it seems as if you’re the only one who would know what I should do.”

A wave of guilt washed over Lyon. He had been harsh with Eirika; she was obviously stressed about this whole situation, and it wasn’t her fault he was feeling jealous all by himself. He peeked at her profile from his peripheral vision, noting the faint trembling indicative of holding back tears. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and banish all her sorrow. But to indulge such desires would be one more selfish thing to add to today’s list. Instead, he settled for consoling words.

“You want respect,” Lyon began in a calming tone, “but it seems to me you’ve already got it. Maybe the court gossip doesn’t get back to you, but all I hear when your name is mentioned is praise for a princess whose kindness knows no bounds, who thinks of her subjects as worthwhile equals and whose physical prowess rivals even that of her beast of a twin brother. You are critical to the future of Renais, and your hard work is evident,” he picked up left her hand, “in these.”

Eirika’s wide eyes intently focused on Lyon’s movements as he brushed his thumb over the rough skin of her palms. Maybe it was the brisk autumn breeze, but the boy could have sworn her cheeks took on a rosy hue. He went on, “You don’t get callouses like these from putting on a show for the benefit of others. You said it yourself, you’ve been knocked down again and again, and each time you pick yourself up, you’re stronger. Any knight, any man worth his salt could see the determination in these hands.”

A single tear slid down Eirika’s cheek, and she swept it away with her free hand before gently placing it on top of his. “Lyon, your hands are warm,” she murmured, entwining her fingers with his. “Remember we used to do this all the time… like when your father told us about the Legend of the Sacred Stones.”

“The Demon King part gave me nightmares,” Lyon recalled.

“Or when you, me, and my brother got scolded by General Dussel?” Eirika grinned. “I couldn’t handle his angry face alone, but taking your hand made me feel safe again.”

“I-I have Mother’s hands,” Lyon stammered, trying to offset the heat rising in his cheeks with a lame attempt at humor. “Not something for a future king to be particularly proud of.”

“I disagree.” Eirika gave his hand a squeeze, looking him earnestly once again. The Prince of Grado could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears. “You’re always so hard on yourself, Lyon, but you’re brilliant. Your hands are those of a man who will save many people. I know it.” She brushed a kiss on his knuckles, and the prince felt light-headed. “Anyone can choose to take lives, but to preserve them? I don’t think I could be any prouder. Ephraim, too—”

He cut off her words with a kiss, pulling their entwined hands toward his chest and reaching his free one to caress her cheek. It was brief, chaste, but to Lyon, kissing her felt like returning something he never knew he had lost. It was something he yearned to do for so long, and when he pulled away, he couldn’t help but to laugh.

“I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly. “That was selfish of me. I should have asked first, I… I just couldn’t help it.”

The Renais princess blinked back at him, beet-red, “N-no, it’s okay. I—”

“Eirika!”

The two flinched simultaneously at the sound of Ephraim’s shouting voice in the distance. His heavy footfalls made echoing crunches in the fallen leaves as they approached.

“Eirika.” Almost too quickly, Ephraim’s head poked out from behind a nearby tree, and he was greeted with the sight of two very embarrassed royals, two feet away from one another and looking off in opposite directions. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” Lyon forced a jovial tone. “Well met, Ephraim.” Eirika remained silent.

“Well met, Lyon.” Ephraim turned to his sister. “Eirika, what’s going on? You ran off so abruptly into the woods that everyone is worried. General Seth is looking for you on the other path.”

“The General?” Eirika’s mouth fell open, her eyes flicked apprehensively from Lyon to her brother and finally landed on her clasped hands.

“Aren’t you going to go apologize?” each word drove a nail into Lyon’s chest, but he tried his utmost to appear unfazed. “It’s been wonderful talking with you, but there’s no need to stay on my account.”

“Are you sure?” Eirika’s gaze was searching. “We weren’t quite done talking—"

“Of course. Go.” Lyon’s face contorted into what he hoped was a bright smile.

“Well then, we’ll see you at dinner tonight, friend,” Ephraim made a playful bow and put a hand on Eirika’s shoulder. “Come on, Sis.”

Lyon gave a little wave, watching as the twins’ backs grew smaller, finally disappearing among the trees. When he couldn’t hear their footsteps, the prince let out a long, deep sigh. What in the name of the gods had he just done? “You’re a fool, Lyon.” He muttered to himself. “A damned fool.”