Thank you for participating in our Secret Santa FERPC Event. We hope you had as much fun with the Yuletide Fehstivities as we did organising it. We really want to hear your feedback so we can keep improving our logistics and event. [...] Your participation is entirely voluntary and you may skip any item that you feel uncomfortable answering. Thank you so much for your feedback and cooperation, feh!~ ❤
Hello, everyone! This is Mod Valter, just coming to tell you all that the Feedback Form for the Fehstival is up! If you feel so inclined, please take a moment to tell us all the things you liked about the event, and where we can improve! Don’t hold back on criticism if you have it: we’d like to avoid any potential missteps in the future!
Please note that the form is open to those who didn’t participate this time for any reason! Please tell us what we can do to make it more inclusive for you next time! Also, as always, everything is strictly confidential!
I want to thank everyone on behalf of all the mods here at Yuletide Fehstivities for participating in our first ever event of sorts! It was a lot of fun, and we loved seeing how it seemed to help the community bond together through shared gifts. That’s the exact reaction we were after from the start. It means a lot that everyone was willing to give this a shot and put forth so much thought and effort into making sure that everyone came away from this experience happy.
No guarantees on when we’ll be back, but we’re looking at the summer months, so keep an eye out for that! Thanks again!
Feh!~❤
Aaaaand that’s a wrap for unwrapping the presents! We hope that everyone enjoyed their gifts and had a good time! Thank you for all of your hard work and for being so patient with us. Santa’s Helpers are a bit worn out and probably need to rest for the evening. You can expect an official closing post along with a debriefing/feedback survey to be published very soon, so please look forward to it!
Thank you for letting us share this moment with you! See you soon Heroes and Summoners!
@vallablooded (Megan) made this for @bratzelle (Sek) and wrote:
(Hello! I’m your Secret Santa! Here’s my gift, to you. Azelle from Fire Emblem 4! I had fun drawing him, and I did my best to make it as special for you as I can. Hope you have a great Christmas, and Happy Holidays to you! If you want the textless version of this, please IM me and I’ll give it to you!
Special thanks to @yuletide-fehstivities for hosting this amazing gift-giving event! I felt honored to be a part of this!)
A special thanks to you as well, from all of us at Fehstivities! Happy Yuletide, and a Merry New Year!
@tomestobetold (Maggie) wrote a drabble for @solitaryblade (Sayl)!
Happy Yuletide and a Merry New Year!
The Future is Bright…
The wind was chilly this time of year, and Ferox was covered in snow. Lon’qu could see his breath in the evening air, wafting up in a small puff with a single exhale. He liked the way the air felt still here.
Ferox was a huge country, but it was not crowded. The cities were modest, the people spread out. A country of provinces, territories, and plains. No one liked to gather too close together all at once. It was unlike Ylisse in that way. Ylisse had its capital city, where there were so many people, Lon’qu could barely think. Too much noise.
Here, it was quiet. With some small trees on the hills, the faint glow of candlelight from the neighboring houses. Lon’qu’s own abode was at his back. He stood beneath a small porch awning that was covered in a layer of new winter snow.
The front door opened and a shuffling of feet and furs drifted towards him. Soon, a second puff of breath joined his in the night air, and without having to look, he held up his arm, inviting Lissa to come settle beneath it.
“Cold,” she mentioned quietly, her eyes drifting up to his face. They had just gotten home a few days ago, after spending a warm and inviting Yule with her family in Ylisse. The new year approached quickly though, and despite the threat of a Feroxi blizzard, Lon’qu was glad to be back. “What’re you up to out here?”
“…Just thinking,” he mentioned with a thoughtful shrug.
The winter in Ylisse was a lot colder than usual. It was common for it to snow a bit around Yuletime, but it had never been this frigid before. It made for a cruel kind of nostalgia. Lon’qu wished they were in Ferox–
But. Then again. Nothing was as it used to be anymore. Ferox… was likely in ruin.
He huffed out a breath through his nostrils, with the air creating a stream that made him look the picture of a coiled dragon on the castle’s marble balcony. Despite Ylisstol castle still functioning with a modest staff of servants and guardsmen, it felt empty. Hollow. Far too quiet.
His ears pricked at the sound of Lissa’s firm footsteps. She carried herself much sterner now. A front of confidence even though she lacked it.
“…Do you see anything?” Lissa asked as she joined him on the balcony.
Lon’qu glanced to her and felt his heart drop. She was frowning. He hated seeing her frown.
“No. Don’t worry. I just needed air,” he told her.
Lissa took a breath and exhaled another puff of warm air.
“Did Lucina fall asleep?” he asked.
“…Yes. Owain’s down too. For now, at least,” Lissa’s voice hushed then. Her hard edges ebbing away quickly in his company. “But Luci will be up again soon… She has nightmares.”
Lon’qu sighed and nodded, reaching out a hand to find hers in the night. “I know… I know.”
Lissa’s voice cracked. “She’s just a kid, Lon’qu… She’s only ten, and Owain’s only eight, and they have nightmares! They shouldn’t be going through this–”
His hand squeezed hers tighter as her eyes began to prickle with tears.
“I know.”
Lissa nestled her head against his shoulder. Her hair was braided into an orderly bun on her head. Unruly waves stuck out in little tufts, though, and brushed against his jaw. It brought a small smile to his lips as he hugged his arm closer around her, bundling them both in his cloak.
“What’re you thinking about?” Lissa asked in a sing-song voice, placing one hand against his chest. Right over his heart.
“Not much,” Lon’qu answered, leaning his cheek against her head. It was a small, subtle movement, but one that he had taken up since their marriage after the Valmese war. “The future, I suppose.”
At that, Lissa smiled too. “Eye always forward, huh? Isn’t that one of Basilio’s mottos?”
That earned a chuckle. “Yeah, it is.”
“Has he demanded that you celebrate the new year with him in the Khan’s Hall yet?” Lissa asked. It was a tradition in Ferox, to skip Yule and celebrate elaborate, bombastic new years. Raise the spirits, they said, and begin the new calendar with rowdy noise and exploits.
Basilio, of course, was known for throwing particularly spectacular feasts, and as the Khan’s right hand, Lon’qu was compelled, every year, to attend. Lissa had grown quite fond of them since she’d come to Ferox. It wasn’t much like Ylissean celebrations, but it was exactly the kind of excitement she enjoyed.
“Yeah,” Lon’qu sighed. “He’s already planning our seats at the head of the grand hall. He calls us his two most honored guests.”
Lissa smirked at that and tucked herself a bit closer in against Lon’qu.
“Two? I think the Khan’s counting wrong.”
Lon’qu’s arms wrapped around her in a tight hug. Lissa’s shoulders shook and she kept her head bowed against his shoulder. He hated it when she cried. He hated being unable to do anything for her.
“I d… I don’t know what to do,” she admitted between whimpering tears. The weight of the world was on her shoulders these days. Chrom had gone to fight off the Grimleal, but no one knew if he was still alive. He probably wasn’t. It made Lissa the new Exalt, until Lucina was of-age to lead.
Lon’qu wrapped her in his coat, because Lissa might be a queen and a mother now, but she was still so small. His beautiful little wife, who needed to be protected.
“I wish Emm were here,” Lissa sobbed as Lon’qu rubbed circles against her back. “She always knew what to do…”
“I know…” Lon’qu murmured. “It’s ok. Just… think about the future. Always keep your eye pointed forward…” Lon’qu winced just thinking that old phrase. The man who had declared it was long gone.
“…Is there a future?” she whispered.
“There’s always a future,” Lon’qu told her. Even if he couldn’t believe it himself, he had to make sure she did. Because Lissa’s light should never go out. “Just think about what you want in it… Tell me what you want and… I’ll make it happen.”
His eyebrows pursed together. “Huh?”
She smiled up at him, looking a touch nervous. “I count for two now…”
The quiet, peaceful air around them went very still. An icy breeze rustled the thin tree outside their house, and Lon’qu looked at her. The fire inside cast a dim light to them, and it was just enough for him to see the green-blue of her eyes, looking hopeful and scared and a bit excited.
He breathed out, another puff in the air, and smiled hesitantly. “…Do you think?”
She nodded. “Maribelle looked me over last week. I know I should have told you right away, I was just… I was nervous.”
Since the Valmese War had ended three years ago, they had not seen the young man who called himself their son. No one was sure what had become of him, but they knew that someday, they’d have a baby of their own.
Maybe it would be a boy.
Lon’qu took a breath, but found himself smiling. He was terrified of fatherhood. Terrified of doing something wrong. Of Lissa being hurt during labor. But there was a light of happiness too.
“You told your sister first, didn’t you?” he asked. There was a certain kind of smile in Emmeryn’s eyes when she’d said goodbye to them after the Yule party.
“Guilty,” Lissa admitted. “I should I have told you, but…”
“It’s fine,” Lon’qu chuckled. He understood. Emmeryn wasn’t just Lissa’s sister. She was her mother too. There were certain things that felt right for them to share. “I’m just… wow.”
Lissa smiled up at him, wrapping her arms around his middle. “Yeah. Wow.”
“I want it to be just us… Us… and the kids… A fireplace and a house. N… Not the castle. It’s too big,” she muttered, sniffling as she told him the things she hoped for. “Chrom would come home and… everything would just be calm again.”
Lon’qu kissed the top of her head and nodded. “That sounds nice. I like that future.”
The air was quiet around them, and then Lon’qu blinked. something floated down from the sky. A light flurry of–
He tensed and held her tighter. “Let’s go inside,” he offered. “It’s getting cold out here.” And without letting her go, Lon’qu pulled them both in from the balcony, closing the door behind them. He didn’t want her to see.
This time of year, it should have been snow falling. But they weren’t flakes of ice in the air, it was the dust of grey ash. Somewhere else in the kingdom, not too far away, a village was burning. Its remains were carried on the winter wind to Ylisstol… to mock what remained of Naga’s chosen family and falling like snow from the sky.
Lon’qu wouldn’t let her see it. Instead, he kept her tight in his arms and brought her upstairs. He tucked her in bed and held onto her tight and murmured visions of a future where the sun would shine again until she fell into a thin, fragile sleep.
Then he made his way downstairs to find Frederick and come up with a plan to defend the city. He could find his own rest later.
Lon’qu wrapped his arms around her, smiling against the soft braid of her bun and swaying ever so slightly from side to side. Lissa held onto him too, and her shoulders relaxed completely as they held onto each other.
“You know if we don’t tell Bailio at the feast he’ll be insulted,” Lon’qu mentioned, halfway exasperated and halfway joking. The Khan was nothing if not enthusiastic in his friendship.
“He’ll figure it out when I refuse to drink the ale.”
“Gods, you’re right, I hadn’t thought of that.”
Lissa laughed, looking up at Lon’qu and standing on her toes to kiss his chin– it was about all she could reach on her own. “It won’t be that bad.”
“You underestimate him,” Lon’qu snorted.
“Ok, so it will be just as bad as you think, and he’ll make everyone toast to our unborn baby and the whole room will look at us and make jokes and wink at you,” Lissa declared with a slightly huffy tone and a smirk. “But.”
“But what?”
“But then its over,” she reminded him. “And its just us again. No one else to draw attention. Just you and me. Like this.”
That, he liked. Him and her, in the calm quiet of their little house. Planning for a new future filled with hope and a baby that they’d made together.
@summonedhearts (Abby) wrote this for @unwaveriinghearts (BP)!
Happy Yuletide and a Merry New Year!
Dear Santa,
My name is Chrom, prince to the throne of Ylisse (if you were wondering where to find us) and I would like a sword for my present this year so I can train to be a knight alongside the Shepherds. Have you seen them? They're so cool! Mother worries about me getting in harm's way while I'm watching them so I want Frederick and the others to train me so I can defend myself and protect Ylisse. I've helped Mother and Father a lot this year as well as playing nice with Emmeryn and Lissa so I hope I'm on your nice list this year.
I'm not sure if this is allowed but, I'd like to ask you for presents for my sisters too, I don't know if Em's already written to you, but I know Lissa's been struggling with her writing lessons so I wanted to make sure her wish got to you. She'd really like some new boots, seeing as hers got scuffed from playing outside. Her pranks have been mostly forgiven and Em...I don't know what Em wants, I haven't seen her that much while Dad's been away at war again with Plegia. Mother's been giving her lessons in becoming the Exalt but I know she feels worried about the responsibility. I don't know if you can help, or if I've asked too much already, but I'd like to ask for their safety.
These letters are meant to be for toys and the such, aren't they? I'm sorry. I should scrap this and try again or at the very least, save this for Lissa’s imagination.
On the off chance this makes it to you, I wish you a safe flight over Ylisse - oh, and thank you!
Yours faithfully,
C,
His Majesty, Prince Chrom of the Kingdom of Ylisse (Age 7)
Dear Santa,
I am aware it has been some time since I last wrote to you - perhaps a childish thing of me to do now and yet, I find a small solace in writing to you now in a rare moment of peace here. First, I must thank you for your response to my previous letter. The sword you gifted me has been a perfect fit and joining the Shepherds has been, well, a dream come true if I am to be frank. Lissa adored her new boots, so much so that I fear they are being held together by mere strings at this point though her attachment to them is something fierce. As for Emmeryn, ever since our mother’s passing she has taken the role of Exalt with her usual grace though alone, it is clear to see the toll it is taking upon her and still--she continues to provide nothing but the best for me and Lissa. I cannot thank her enough, nor convey my gratitude enough for her actions over these past few years in words alone.
I apologize for the tone this note has taken, but as a prince, soldier and brother, I can only do my very best in return for both of my sisters. I must fight to keep my family and the people of Ylisse safe on the battlefield, while Emm keeps them safe in her throne. Lissa has already expressed an interest in joining the Shepherds when she is of age though I believe her talents lie best in that of the medical arts following her training with Emm and mother, before she passed. I want to keep her safe, yet I know this is a never-ending struggle, the same my mother must have felt as she watched over us all, no doubt.
Yule is fast approaching, as I’m sure you’re well aware. I can’t wait for the holiday celebrations here though we are scarcely permitted to visit the markets and attractions without ample protection. Frederick, our chief, worries too much though, if what Father says is to be true, then the wars with Plegia are unlikely to stop at our agreed borders should they get so close. I want to trust him - after all, he risks himself in a cause we know so little of and yet, it is hard to justify it as anything more than a pre-emptive strike against Plegia when, for once, they have done nothing to warrant such a war.
Perhaps, if we are lucky, there will be a mission to the celebrations at some point though I don’t hold high hopes. I just need to eat something other than bear.
Yours faithfully,
C,
His Majesty, Prince Chrom of Ylisse (Age 15)
Dear Santa,
I sincerely apologize for the gaps between my writings to you though perhaps it is silly I am still writing to you at all given your usual dealings are with that of children. These past few years have been hard upon all of us. I am afraid to come to you with grave news - the Exalt, my sister, Em, is no longer with us. Killed as a pawn in the Plegian’s game for whatever war they intend to wage with us now. I have had trouble sleeping for some time - at first, from my promotion to Captain of the Shepherds and now, I am plagued by nightmares though to call them fictional would hardly be apt in the circumstances.
Things have truly changed a lot since my last letter to you. Lissa has joined our company now, serving us greatly as a Cleric following the completion of her medical studies though she continues to grow stronger each day - not least after recent events, if we are to be truthful.
I must also tell you of another person of great significance in my life though I fear it’s tale is as big as some of yours, though I insist, it is truth in these trying times. Her name is Robin. She is truly magnificent - skilled with tome, sword, brains and beauty alike. It was Lissa who first noticed her unconscious on one of our patrols though I must admit, at first, my fears were that of the worst. Frederick the Wary naturally advised caution, but following several trials of her trust, she has been an invaluable ally in this senseless war. It is not a fact I have shared with Lissa or any other of the Shepherds for that matter but it is her resolve and guidance that has refocused my mind on our original mission. In truth, I have since spent many hours with her - planning our next steps to victory or further training, of a manner, though I must admit our first few interactions after meeting were less than proper for a man and woman though now, I am pleased to call us friends. Continuing my original point, meeting Robin has been nothing short of a miracle - between her optimism, strategy and belief in all of us, there is little I can say that would do it justice.
If it wasn’t already obvious, as Lissa has taken care to point out, although I believe in jest for now, I cannot part my mind from her, what I mean to say is, I believe I’m in love.
The future ahead is uncertain and I have to admit to not knowing where it may lead, but, if I may, if it is proper for a man of my age to still be making holiday wishes then I wish for peaceful passage into the coming year and safety for those back home. It is not an easy wish, nay, one that I am also working towards though one I am optimistic will come, nay, has to come if we are to succeed.
Yours faithfully,
C,
His Majesty, Prince Chrom of Ylisse (Age 19)
Dear Santa,
It has been difficult to put my thoughts into words as of late, so I am attempting to write this in a format that has brought me such comfort on prior occasions. Time has again passed since my last letter to you - a small symbol of the change that has occurred in it’s boundaries if I am to truly bring my last letter up to speed. Our battles did not end at Ylisse and Plegia, why, upon reflection, it felt as if they had barely started there - given the mount of our task to come.
Our numbers have grown considerably since we last talked - allies to our cause ran far and wide as things turned out, be it that they owed the Exalt of Ylisse a debt, expressed an interest in helping our cause voluntarily or in others, well, there were others with other motives, it rather pales in comparison to the reason I feel I need to address all this with you. In those that joined our party, my daughter, from a future far bleaker than our own, travelled back in time to prevent a future that would have doomed us all. In pursuit of that, a version of Robin, intertwined with our own from her future also returned, yet, it was one who had accepted the soul of the Fell Dragon, Grima upon my passing at her hands - the grim future Lucina spoke of in her previous warnings. In her future, we had all fallen as a result of the battle and yet, in our own, we held the power to change it.
Robin, my closest ally, my friend through all of this, my wife, my dearest love, the trials we have faced appeared relentless and I nary say they are unlikely to end now although, perhaps, if I may submit one request, not on the scale of our previous endeavours, hm? I never could keep up with you.
You gave everything to ensure all of us had a future and for that, mere words will never be enough. I can only hope that each of us living to protect this future was the outcome you wished for too, no, I know it.
I know little of magic, not least that which appears to be above mere mortal bounds though if I may ask one final wish of you, however foolish it may seem, I know Robin lives - whatever time, whenever is right, I ask that you return her to us safe and sound so that we may fight for this future together, as a family and with our friends.
Our adventures here will not end, not now as we face the prospect of a new future - one of our own design and one that we may share the joy in, together, upon your return.
Yours, as ever,
C,
His Royal Highness, Exalt Chrom of Ylisse (Age 22)
Dear Santa,
Thank you.
Yours faithfully,
C,
His Royal Highness, Exalt Chrom and Queen Robin of Ylisse (Ages 23 and 25 respectively)
@iiskarlata (Severa) made a graphics package for @briarsprince (Nois) and wrote:
Hey, Nois! Remember how we were talking about who’d hope to be paired with for this event? Well, by a stroke of luck, I got paired with you after we had just discussed it, haha! I hope you like this theme I made. I think it suits your aesthetic overall, but if you want me to change something, please let me know and I’ll update the code.
@unwaveriinghearts (BP) wrote this for @summonedhearts (Abby) and said:
Hi Abby! Your Secret Santa likes the Nifl and Múspell siblings too, so I decided to write a ditty with them. I hope you enjoy it- I certainly did! Best wishes for the new year!
Happy Yuletide and a Merry New Year!
Flickering Embers
“Fjorm!” Hríd hissed, “Keep your armour on!” They were both garbed in ceremonial Niflese armour, custom-fit to suit them perfectly. Unfortunately, Niflese armour was designed to keep in their body warmth so they wouldn’t freeze at home. And now they were travelling to the capital of Múspell, where the climate was the polar opposite of that in Nifl.
Fjorm let out a cry of frustration. “Come on, Hríd! Can we really not take off one or two layers? Laegjarn will understand, and Laevatein has never cared about pleasantries and formalities!”
“Laegjarn and Laevatein may not care, but the court around them will. And now is the worst possible time to be interpreted as in contempt of the Múspellian court. We are here as representatives of Nifl, and we have to be on our best behaviour and presentation.”
“Come onnnnn… you’re cooking too in there!”
“I am, and I’m not fidgeting to get it off. It’ll just be for our arrival and departure and the late queen’s cremation, sister. We’ll survive. Do you have the Frostflowers?”
“Yes, right here.”
“Gunnthra’s letter?” She held it up, and Hríd nodded in approval. “Good.” Gunnthra couldn’t attend with them because she had extremely pressing responsibilities in Nifl, and Ylgr was far too young to be concerned with political matters. However, they had both wanted to express their support of the royal sisters of Múspell, so Gunnthra had given them a letter of apology and condolence addressed to Princess Laegjarn, and Ylgr had arranged a bouquet of Niflese Frostflowers they could give to Laevatein. He turned to look out of the carriage window once more, observing the almost alien landscape of Múspell. It was so strange to think the land of lava lakes and scorching heat bordered on their eternally snow-capped mountains. The clash between the dragons of ice and fire had continued well past their deaths… at least, that was the dominant theory.
He didn’t have much time to think on it- Fjorm sat up, leaning to a side as if that would help her look around the carriage frame. “There it is. Gods, I can’t wait to get out of this armour.”
Stepping out of the carriage, the first thing that caught Hríd’s eye was the Múspellian castle. Looming over them in all its obsidian glory, the only thing separating them a lake of lava and the lowered drawbridge. Something about it had always struck him as ominous, especially compared to the crystal palace of Nifl. It was so… dark. Cold, not in temperature but in feeling. He didn’t want to look at it for long, instead lowering his gaze to the people waiting for him on the drawbridge. Princesses Laegjarn and Laevatein wore their own full armour, but instead of Laegjarn’s usual colourful cape and Laevatein’s normal lack of one, both bore a thick cape of black feathers on their shoulders. A symbol of mourning, Hríd knew. He didn’t have to look to his side to know Fjorm’s eyes had widened in amazement, and if asked he would have to admit- he too wondered how they could stand to wear something so thick and stuffy in this climate.
“Prince Hríd, Princess Fjorm.” Laegjarn’s voice broke both their stupors, forcing them back to reality. “Nifl is generous to send you both as representatives.”
“Our sisters send their regards,” Hríd said, reaching forward to take the hand Laegjarn had already raised towards him so he could kiss the back as he bowed down. Next to him, Fjorm curtsied at Laevatein- a gesture that looked equally forced when the younger Múspellian princess returned it. “And their apologies. They simply could not attend.”
“We’d like to offer these, though,” Fjorm quickly said, stepping forward to hold out the Frostflowers to Laevatein. “Consider them their way of offering condolences.”
He saw Laegjarn smiling when she looked at Laevatein eagerly accepting the bouquet, just before she turned and gestured towards the castle’s entrance gates. “Please, come in. You’ll find the halls less stifling than the air over the moat.” And, a lot quieter as Hríd fell in next to her so that the courtiers and knights surrounding them wouldn’t hear her, “…as well as an opportunity to get some of those layers off. You two must be cooking in there.”
Fjorm didn’t waste a second: “I told you!”
Laegjarn insisted they wouldn’t have to be fully decked out in ceremonial garb until the cremation proper, so Fjorm gratefully used the opportunity to dump at least her armour and her leggings in the room Laevatein showed her to. “God, I’m glad to be out of those,” she said, running her hand through her sweaty hair. “I have no idea how you and Laeg handle the heat here.”
Laevatein didn’t respond immediately, still focused on the Frostflowers. “…they’re so cold,” she eventually said, one hand hovering above the roses to feel the chill that came off of them. “They’re different. I like them. Won’t they melt?”
“No, it’s fine. They’re Niflese Frostflowers- Gunnthrá and Ylgr grew them specifically so they wouldn’t melt under any circumstances.” Fjorm walked over, wondering for a moment if it would be alright to put a hand on the other princess’s shoulder. Laevatein had never been great with physical contact, especially if she weren’t the one initiating it. There was something else she was good at, though- Hríd had remarked at least once that Laevatein would be a terror to face on the battlefield, even more so than Laegjarn. She enjoyed the simplicity of combat and how easy it was to forget everything else when she was training. “…so, do you have training today?”
“No. My trainer’s forbidden everyone to spar with me for the entire week. He says I have to deal with my feelings and not hide from them.”
“That’s… not a bad idea, but somehow I don’t think that would work for you specifically… does it help?”
“I hate it.”
A short, awkward silence fell over the two, Fjorm hesitating. Laevatein could be hard to read, but it was clear she was struggling. Her mother had passed away and no one was helping her deal with the wave of emotions that had sent crashing over her. She didn’t know how to handle those. And being denied her outlet was- “Okay. Tell you what- do you have a lance I could use?”
For a moment, Laevatein only looked up at her, confused. “But… my trainer-”
“I’m a foreign royal,” Fjorm said, “Your trainer doesn’t have the authority to forbid me anything.” Hríd, on the other hand, might have her head later. But that was a concern for the future- right now, Laevatein needed help. And if that help took the form of fighting in a controlled environment, then that was how Fjorm would help her. “So. Lance?”
“We have practice lances in the barracks,” Laevatein said, placing down the Frostflowers on the nearby dresser. “But you can borrow a silver one. It will conduct your ice better and give you a chance against Laevatein.” Fjorm had to laugh at the matter-of-factness with which she said it. Not a hint of cockiness or overconfidence in her voice. But if nothing else, she saw the other princess’s lips curl up a teensy bit.
“I’ll take silver,” she said. “And if anyone asks why you’re on the training fields- you’re helping me work up an appetite, alright?”
“Alright. …thank you, Princess Fjorm.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Laegjarn wasn’t doing much better than Laevatein. In fact, while most of the dignitaries he overheard praised her for the way she ‘kept it together’ as now queen of Múspell in what must surely be such a trying time for her, Hríd could tell she wasn’t keeping it together at all. Government came naturally to her. She’d slipped into the role of queen with ease- that much he could see, and that much he could tell was genuine. But she wasn’t Laevatein. She couldn’t turn off her emotions because people willed it. He didn’t get a chance to speak with her in private as shortly after their arrival, she was called away to tend to affairs; and during dinner he was seated too far from her. Laevatein did seem more at ease, as did Fjorm, but concern for Laegjarn kept him awake after he’d been excused for bed. Concern, and the still uncomfortably high temperatures of the castle.
Sighing, and putting on a shirt more for the sake of modesty than anything else, he took a lantern and left his room, hoping that a stroll through the courtyard would help him get his mind off of both issues. If nothing else, he knew the gardens to be beautiful and, frankly, fascinating, even if he didn’t share Gunnthrá’s interest in botany.
He hadn’t been in the courtyard for long before he realised he wasn’t alone, though. On a bench between two bushes of faintly glowing orange blooms was Laegjarn, still dressed in her full ceremonial garb and armour and clutching her cape of feathers with one hand. Hríd stopped in his tracks, debating whether to turn around or to approach her. He had wanted to talk to her in private all day, true, but… she looked so vulnerable. Wouldn’t she just be upset that someone saw her like this?
Indecisively, he shifted his weight- and that made his choice for him, as a branch snapped under his foot. Laegjarn shot to her feet, posture immediately straight as she turned towards him. “Who’s there?” she asked, voice steady as she looked around and took a step forward.
“It’s alright, Laegjarn. It’s just me.” She turned towards the sound of his voice, letting out the breath she had been holding and relaxing slightly when she recognised him.
“Gods, Hríd. I was ready to lop your head off- or at least your hand.”
“I thought as much, that’s why I spoke up.” He gestured his head at Níu, strapped to her waist. “I like having my head atop my shoulders and two hands at my disposal.” She scoffed at his poor attempt at humour, shaking her head and giving the first genuine smile he’d seen all day. She sat back down, and he found himself approaching her. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”
“Not at all. I would welcome the company.” She moved over a little bit to make enough room on the bench for him, so he joined her. “…the past few days have been a whirlwind. You’d think that with her illness dragging on as long as it did, Mother’s death wouldn’t affect me as much as Father’s did. I fear the years have made me soft.”
How was he supposed to respond to that? For a moment, he scrambled for words. He had to say something. He couldn’t just let this uncomfortable silence drag on. A clearing of his throat bought him a precious second to order his thoughts. “King Surtr’s passing didn’t drop you in a position of authority and custody, though. You could give rise to your grief in any way you wanted and not be held back by…” he made a helpless gesture with one hand, not sure how to capture it in one word. She understood well enough, fortunately.
“I’m told Fjorm sparred with Laevatein, despite the groundsmaster’s protests,” she said. “She was instructed to process her grief before setting foot on the training grounds again. Your sister broke protocol.” Before Hríd could apologise, she continued. “I’ll have to be sure to thank her later. I haven’t seen Laevi be so… herself since the day. And as for you, Prince Hríd of Nifl.” She supported her head with one hand, making a show of looking him over. “Is your sleepwear really your idea of an appropriate get-up for a private conversation with a foreign sovereign?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “The heat in here will never feel right to me.”
“Now you know how I feel when I visit Nifl,” she admitted, but Hríd shook his head and continued.
“I’m also worried about you. You talk about how Laevatein hasn’t been herself, but you don’t seem well yourself. I know you’re bound by protocol, but have you taken a moment to just… cry?”
“A queen of Múspell does not cry.”
“No, but a child who’s lost her last parent would.” He looked into her eyes, the sudden seriousness in his own catching Laegjarn off guard. “When Father died, I thought we’d never stop crying. Ylgr was too young to realise of course, but Fjorm, Gunnthrá… I wanted to be strong for them and give them the time they needed by taking all governmental responsibility onto my own shoulders, and being a father figure for them to lessen their pain, but that just made me miserable.”
“…you’ve never shown that,” Laegjarn admitted. “You always did seem strong. When Fjorm didn’t want herself to be seen and Gunnthrá was obviously grieving, you were… well, princely. I remember admiring how together you were.”
“Confession time, Laeg.” He shut his eyes, sighing. “I was not together. I only managed to look together because behind closed doors, Gunnthrá held me and gave me an opportunity to cry until my tears dried out. And I took that opportunity. I know it’s not the Múspellian way, but… surely the fire can’t burn at all times.”
She turned away, her bangs obscuring her gaze. “It must. Even you understood that as long as you were seen, you had to be a prince of Nifl. I… cannot be seen breaking apart.”
“There’s only one foreign dignitary here to see it,” he said, shrugging. “And he’s been through similar things. So…”
“Damn you, you soft-hearted Niflese-” Laegjarn didn’t even get through her insult before throwing herself at him and burying her face in his chest. For a split second, Hríd froze -no matter how friendly the terms they were on, seeing a Múspellian general lunge at him would always catch him off guard- but he soon recovered, patting her back.
It wasn’t long until he felt her shuddering and heard the muffled sound of sobs coming from her. He didn’t try to shush or speak to her. Any attempts to stop her outpouring of emotion after he’d urged her to start it would just defeat the point. He’d just wait until her tears ran dry before telling her it was okay to be emotional. He knew how strong she was, and how strong she had been for Laevatein. But if she was going to have to be strong constantly, her pain would only fester and make her miserable long after the appropriate mourning period. And that was something he wanted to prevent at all costs.
Queen Laegjarn would continue Múspell on the prosperous, ridiculously hot path into the future that her mother had charted for her, with General Laevatein at her side to advise her and support her. But right now? Right now, Laeg and Laevi needed a shoulder to cry on. And Hríd and Fjorm would provide those shoulders, just as Gunnthrá had done for them years ago.
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