Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Ready for bed, Little Bird?”

“....”

A sigh. 

“Well, it is time to sleep whether you want to or not.”

“....”

“How about I tell you a story to help lull you to sleep? Would you like that?”

“Mm-hm”

“Good boy. What story do you want to hear?”

“....”

“Why do I even bother anymore?”

“Well, how about the Tale of Naga? Our city’s goddess? Or, well, former one. It is a tale I think all denizons of Thabes should know, and you are curious about your, um, other heritage are you not?”

“....”

“Well, I’m going to tell it. 

Long ago, before humans, Archanaea was ruled by dragons-- a proud, powerful race. They were made up of five tribes—Earth, Water, Fire, Air, and Divine. The Divine ruled over them all and was led by the great Draconic Goddess, Naga. She had two trusted friends, a pair of siblings—Mila who brought vitality to the earth to sustain life, and Duma who trained and raised the dragons to become fearsome warriors. Naga herself could fulfill these tasks but instead chose to rely on the sister and brother. 

Over time, Dragonkind found humans, fending for themselves in small groups among the continent. They saw that we shared the same spark of life as them—the drive to create, to live, to love—and so, the Divine Dragons decided to use their power and knowledge to nurture and raise us up from the dirt. With their protection, knowledge, and guidance, we were able to grow and create thriving villages, towns, and cities. Even though many Dragons disdained humanity for their weakness, the world became vibrant and peaceful.

However, this did not last. As Draconic society became more advanced, something terrible began to stir in the minds of all Dragons, and horrors, Terrors, appeared in droves. They call it the Great Catastrophe. One by one, Dragons began to lose that spark of life and become feral, violent animals. They found that the only way to stop this was to seal their great power into a stone—what we call a Dragonstone—and assume a humanlike form. Many did this to avoid their terrible fate, but many more still refused. 

Medeus, the leader of the Earth Dragons, found the idea of giving up his great power and leveling himself with man disgusting. He, along with the other three tribes, tried to lead an insurrection against Naga and her right and left hands. Many of them had already started to turn, and this only made them more fearsome warriors. But with Mila’s control over bounty, Duma’s might, and Naga’s power and leadership, the Divine Dragons defeated the onslaught. 

They suffered terrible losses, and so, began the decline of Dragons. Many died, many others made peace with the impending Catastrophe, and the rest became Manaketes.
Naga herself along with Mila and Duma chose to remain as they were, believing they had more time and wanting to continue their work as Gods of man. Even though Manaketes could still turn into dragons for short periods of time, their power was significantly weakened. Wars and skirmishes with the now feral Dragons became very common, but life continued under the watchful care of the Divine Dragons. 

Naga’s favorite human settlement was Thabes, our bustling city amongst the sands. She would frequent a grand temple in what was Old Town. I went their often with my parents. Naga was regal-- breathtaking. She stood at least 30 feet above us and spoke with a voice that shook mountains. Sunlight reflected off her scales like the finest gemstones, shimmering and golden. She listened to all our pleas and prayers one after another and guided us towards salvation. It was a beautiful time.

Things started to crumble when Mila and Duma rebelled against Naga. Naga had decided she wanted to not simply live as a Manakete, but to give up her physical form and leave this realm altogether. She saw the great destructive power her daughter held and feared what she and the other Dragon Gods would fall to. Naga created a great seal to protect her daughter and the world, but she insisted that she, Mila, and Duma must leave. Mila and Duma refused, not wanting to abandon their pockets of humanity and launched a war against her. Although Naga was severely outnumbered, she tore through their ranks and was victorious. She couldn’t force her two friends to leave this realm, so instead, she exiled them to a land across the sea, and gave Duma a sword forged from one of her fangs. When the time came that the Great Catastrophe would befall both of them, this Kingsfang would hold the power to end them.

It wasn’t long before Naga made her ascent. She left our realm without so much as a goodbye, leaving her children to struggle and fall without her. Some say she collapsed all of Old Town and the Tunnels underneath to hide her corporeal form, while others say that the throes of her death simply shook the earth until our city started to collapse. Whatever happened, we were left damaged and bereft. Our crops withered, skirmishes with Dragons became more frequent and violent, and the peace between cities grew more and more unsteady. Nothing has improved in the 30 or so years since her departure. We are bereft of guidance, of protection, and of prosperity. Without the Gods I fear that we will soon fall into chaos and then into nothing…. I should stop my ramblings. It wouldn’t do well to end your bedtime story on a much sourer note, Little Bird.”

A soft snore.

“I hope you understand, Robin, all the toil I am going through to save us all.”

Chapter Text

Aversa tromped through the undergrowth of the forest. It wasn’t often that her family traveled to Ylisse, and it was even less often that they let her out of their sight, and she wanted to relish this short, green freedom.

She gingerly picked up sticks and leaves, brandishing the largest one like a staff. She twirled it as she ran, leaves crunching beneath her feet. Aversa imagined flying was like this, and she felt her heart soar. One day she would get a pegasus, no matter what her parents thought. She ran into a clearing, distinct rings of flowers surrounding a large stump. 

Aversa let out a small gasp of wonderment, and carefully made her way to the stump. The flowers smelled sweet, and were in full bloom. The stump was much larger than she initially though, three feet high at least. With some difficulty she climbed atop it, an excited smile breaking across her face as she saw the rings of the tree were all in the shape of concentric hearts.

How beautiful!

She stood atop the stump, hands on her hips, feeling triumphant in her discovery. As she glanced around the clearing, she saw something rustling in the flowers. Aversa jumped down, carefully to not twist an ankle, and cautiously walked towards it, stick drawn.

“Hello?” she called out. 

No answer.

She crept closer, and saw the flowers trembling.

“Hello?” she said again, this time softer.

She cautiously used the end of her stick to brush away the flowers, and saw a small child, a boy several years younger than herself with white hair and dark skin similar to her own, huddled on the ground, shaking. He was wearing Plegian style clothing, and it was a bit ruddy from his time outside.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

He didn’t respond, only kept holding his head down.

“I’m not gonna to hurt you. I was just curious is all.”

The child didn’t move.

Aversa bit her lip. It was strange being on the other end of a fearful situation, but she could salvage this. 

She gathered some of the leaves she collected into a green bouquet and held it out to them. “Here, take this! My name’s Aversa. What’s yours?”

The young boy slowly lifted his head, wiping away tears with his muddy hands. Aversa brought out her handkerchief and gently blotted them away. With surprise, Aversa noted that his face was covered in tattoos of wings. He looked at her, a little surprised, but less scared. He then looked at the bundle of leaves she was handing them and slowly took it, smelling it before running their finger along some of the leaves. 

The boy opened his mouth, haltingly, but no sound came out. He seemed to be becoming more nervous as this happened. He tried again but still could not say anything.

“Do you not talk?” Aversa asked.

He nodded, and opened his mouth again as if to add something, but still couldn’t get anything out.

“That’s alright! Can you spell?” 

He nodded nervously, and pinched their fingers together. 

“Can you write your name for me?” Aversa brought out some scraps of parchment and a piece of charcoal from her pocket and handed them to the child.

He slowly wrote out five letters. R-O-B-I-N.

“You’re name’s ‘Robin’?”

Robin nodded, a shy smile on his face.

“It’s nice to meet you, Robin! Do you live around here?”

Robin nodded, and then pointed at her gently, his eyebrows scrunched up.

“Where do I live?”

A nod.

“I live in Oasis Town! It’s far from here, in Plegia, but sometimes my parents and I come here to gather supplies for our magic! They run a potion shop!”

Robin’s eyes lit up at the word magic.

“You like magic too?”

He nodded vigorously. He held out the green bouquet, this time with both hands and closed their eyes, as if concentrating furiously. In a few moments, the leaves grew a little bigger and a little greener. He opened his eyes and smiled at the change.

“Wow! That’s so cool! My parents are dark mages, but all they teach me is how to make potions,” she said with a pout. 

Robin frowned in sympathy.

“It’s fine. I mean, I’m sure I’m going to learn someday. Do you want to play potions?”

Robin’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“It’s a game where we gather sticks and leaves and stuff an’ mix them all together! Do you want to play?”

Robin nodded, still nervous. 

“Let’s gather some of these flowers! An’ then we can put them in my mixing bowl!” Aversa said, bringing it out. 

Robin nodded and went to gather some flowers, and Aversa began laying out what she had gathered so far. 

“Since it’s your first time playing potions, how about you make the first one?” she suggested.

Robin bit his lip but nodded again. He picked up some flowers, pulled their petals off, and dropped them, fluttering into the bowl. He added more leaves and sticks and mud and smiled a little more brightly. 

“Do you want to mix it now?” she asked, holding out a big stick.

He nodded, smiling broadly. The stick was nearly as tall as them, but they didn’t let that hamper their excitement. Aversa clapped in joy as their first potion was made-- a dark slurry of mud speckled with pink and yellow petals.

They continued making strange, earthy potions until the sun began to set and the crows began to fly.

With a heavy heart, Aversa said, “I gotta get home soon, otherwise my parents will realize I’m gone and freak out. Do you want to hang out tomorrow? I’m going to be around for the rest of the week.”

Robin nodded and pointed to the stump. 

“Do you want to meet here after lunch time?”

They nodded again, and Aversa gave him a thumbs up. 

“I’ll see you then!”

--

Aversa saw Robin everyday after that. Aversa’s parents didn’t suspect her sneaking off while they foraged and traded goods, much to her delight. She brought her potions bowl and so they could play potion making together again, and Robin was very good at finding both magic ingredients and interesting pretend ingredients. Aversa taught Robin how to make daisy chains and flower crowns much to his delight.

Robin tried several times to teach Aversa the magic they knew, but without being able to talk to her, he couldn’t get much across. He did seem more and more comfortable around her as the week went on, and sometimes grunted or laughed in excitement. 

Robin took her around the forest as well, showing her a pond filled with frogs and lilypads, a giant oak tree, and an old well. Aversa asked them if they could go to his house sometime, but he vigorously shook their head.

Maybe they weren’t supposed to be sneaking outside too?

---

Later that week, evening came once again, and Robin returned to their small house, covered in dirt and leaves and twigs. He made sure to wipe his shoes on the doormat before taking them off and rushing over to his mother.

“Hi Mommy!” Robin called out, reaching his hands up, a smile on their face. 

Circe chuckled and grabbed her son, lifting him into her arms. Robin nuzzled into her, hugging her around her neck. 

“Did you have a good day outside, Robbie?” she asked, kissing his temple.

“Yeah! Versy an’ I made potions!” 

“How exciting!”

“Versy wants to show me town tomorrow, can I go please?” he pleaded.

“I’m very sorry, sweetie, but your mom and I are busy tomorrow. We can’t go to town with you, so you should stay at home or in the forest, okay?”

“But it’s Versy’s last day here…” Robin said, giving her doe eyes.

“I’m sure she’s very responsible, but it’s simply not safe outside of the wards we set up, Robbie. I don’t want either of you getting hurt or you running into someone with bad intentions. Can you please stay in the forest, sweetie?”

Robin pouted, but mumbled an, “okay, Mommy.”

--

Aversa sat at the tree stump, swinging her legs back and forth. She thought about taking a short nap before Robin came running through the woods, an excited smile nearly hidden by his hooded cloak. 

“Hi Robin!” she called out. “Are you ready to go into town?” 

Robin nodded, fidgeting with the ends of his cloak. 

“Awesome! It’s the farmer’s market today, so there’s so much to see, c’mon!” She grabbed his hand and they ran together, past the edge of the forest, through the gated wall, and into the outskirts of the bustling town. 

Robin was in awe of all the people and stalls and buildings, and Aversa wondered if this was his first time seeing anything larger than a small village. 

“C’mon! Do you want something to eat? There’s a family that sells little cakes at the market,” she asked.

Robin nodded eagerly, and she led him onward. 

They spent the morning eating their cake and running around the market. Aversa led Robin to trio of apple trees near the square where they could sit down and rest. 

“Do you like the town?” she asked.

Robin nodded vigorously, broad smile slightly hidden in the shadow of their hood. 

Aversa clapped her hands in glee. “I’m glad! It’s been so much fun playing with you! I don’t have any siblings, or really any friends my age or your age…” she trailed off. “But! Maybe you can ask your parents if they want to travel with mine? They’re pretty nice and I’m sure they’d get along with your parents!” 

Robin’s smile faded, and they sighed dejectedly. 

“Would they not want to go?” she ventured.

Robin shook his head. They drew a little clump of trees in the woods and pointed their finger forcefully into it. 

Aversa squished her cheeks and pouted. “Well, maybe I can ask my parents if we can come here more often. They don’t know I’ve been hanging out with you, but maybe they’ll be okay with me running off.”

Robin nodded, still sad. 

“Well, how about we go and--”

A scream rang out in the town square.

Aversa and Robin whipped their heads around to the source of cry, and saw a pair of shambling, decrepit creatures. They looked like people, but their skin was grey and sallow, caked with dirt, and they smelled like rot.

They let out a shrieking roar and with swords drawn, tearing their way through the crowd of panicked people. 

Aversa felt her heart stop at the sight of blood and people falling to the ground, spasming.

Robin let out a small shriek and tears welled in his eyes. 

She had to do something, at least keep Robin safe.

“C’mon!” she said, shaking Robin out of his frozen state. “We can climb! They won’t be able to reach us!” 

Robin nodded, shaking, and they scrambled up, a mix of hurried grasps, helping each other up, and desperation.

They clung to each other at the top of the tree, unable to do anything but watch the carnage below. Some of the town’s militia had finally come to the scene and were fighting it out with those monsters, but the unpracticed young men of the town were hardly a match for unearthly monsters. Aversa drew Robin’s head into her shoulder so they wouldn’t have to see any more blood spilling. 

“It’s going to be okay, Robin, I’ll keep you safe.” she said, holding them tighter.

The shambling monsters tore through the soldiers and began to swing their swords at the tree they were sitting in. A hard thwack of an axe managed to make Aversa lose her grip and they tumbled out of the tree onto the hard ground. She managed to get into a sitting position, holding Robin against her. She stared up at their masked faces, and she raised her hand. She’d only used a tome behind her parents’ back, and she didn’t have one now, but she could still do something.

Aversa drew forth her own magic, looping it around and capturing the magic in the air. With a deep, shaking breath she focused it, and with a shout she fired it, lightning racing around her, burning and escaping from her arm into the nightmare’s head.

It let out a horrifying shriek and slumped to the ground. The second monster, lumbered forth, seemingly enraged by it’s companions’ fall.

Aversa bit back tears at the pain in her arm, and breathed heavily. It hurt like hell, but she could do it again. 

As she raised her arm again, tears beginning to spill forth, an axe seemingly sprouted from its head, and it crumpled to the ground. 

A Chon’sin woman rushed forward, another axe in hand. She swiftly cut off the monsters’ heads and then ran and knelt to hug Robin and Aversa, relief washing over her face.

“Robin!” she cried, and he squirmed around to hug her back. 

She drew back to take in them, and she saw the burns on Aversa’s arms. “Oh dear, here, let me heal you,” she said as she stowed her axe and drew out her staff. 

Soft green light enveloped her, numbing the pain, and healing some of the burns. The adrenaline started to wear off, and she felt a wave of fatigue wash over her.. 

“You must be, Aversa, yes? Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” she said. “Th-thank you,”

“Of course. That was very brave of you, striking that Risen. Thank you for keeping my child safe, as well.” 

Aversa felt her exhaustion tugging on her eyelids, “They’re my friend, I had to keep them safe.”

“You’re a noble girl, Aversa,” was the last thing she heard before sleep overtook her.

--

The next few days were a flurry of activity. Eliza and Circe gathered their belongings and moved northwards. Robin was withdrawn and sad at having to leave Aversa without saying goodbye. As he lay in the back of their wagon, he couldn’t help think, no, he knew, it was his fault. He left the forest, left the wards, against his mothers’ warnings. Aversa got hurt, her parents would be angry with her, and now they had to move.

It was all his fault.

Chapter Text

(our boy)

---

For years, the wind seemed to carry Circe and Eliza and their small son. The Plegian border was no longer safe, as eyes and ears sprang up, searching for their marked child. Without proximity to the Dragon’s Table, even in its enervated state, Circe couldn’t create her wards against the Risen. Eliza’s axe was always as sharp as her senses, but casualties couldn’t be avoided when Risen seemed to swarm to them.

Robin was quiet for many months, and no tale of Eliza’s fantastical draconic ancestors or Circe’s whimsical magic tricks could bring a smile to his face. He clung close to them, just wanting to sleep, tired from their constant travel. 

Circe had believed his marks were a blessing from Grima themself, but she felt doubt in her faith for the first time in many years. 

Maybe her son could see through her attempts to help him find comfort in his markings or maybe he was already cynical. Surely, he could see the wandering death that seemed to follow them-- the way they reached out toward him like pilgrims receiving blessings from Naga’s Saints.

Rumors and observations and  experiments led them to believe that the cold was nature’s best defense against Risen, so they headed north-- to Regna Ferox.

On a cold spring night, Eliza found her wife still awake, reading under the moonlight.

“Couldn’t sleep, love?” she whispered.

Circe slowly set her book down and buried her face in her pillow.

“Do… do you regret loving me?” she choked out, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Circe! I never could!” Eliza nearly cried out, taking her wife into her arms, fingers stroking her scalp beneath her curls. “I love you more than the stars and moon and sun all together.”

“You could’ve been a noble in Chon’sin,” she refuted.

“And I would’ve been miserable, for I would never have known you. I’d trade that world away again in a heartbeat for what we have now. I love you, and I love our son, and I’ll fight for you both until the day I die.” Eliza said before kissing Circe’s forehead.

Tears spilled from Circe’s eyes as she hugged Eliza closer. “I love you and Robin too. We’ll get through this. We’ll find a home. We’ll deal with the Risen as best we can. I promise.”

---

Robin stood in darkness. The smell of damp earth permeated the air. 

“You’re a burden, bringing danger everywhere you go, Little One,” a low voice rang out. 

A voice he knew.

The voice of the divine.

“Yes, my Lord,” he answered, barely a whisper.

“Do you truly think your parents love you when you’ve ruined their lives? Do you think you could ever be happy in a village that hates you? Several of them have already died from the curse you carry in your heart and in the marks on your skin.”

“N-no, my lord.”

“They would all be happier if you disappeared from their lives, Little One.”

“Y-yes, my Lord.”

“Good. You know what to do. Come to the city among the sands, the jewel cradled in my jaw, and be cleansed.”

Robin woke with a start. 

Another revelation. 

He buried his face into the soft fabric of his chicken plushie, Luci, as he lay in bed, curling in on himself. As much as he worshiped and admired Grima, their messages left him drained and choked and empty-- head throbbing and throat tight. 

A glance at the window revealed a starry night sky, fringed by evergreen crowns; dawn was still a ways away. Even from their small house on the edge of the village, he could still see the vigil lights. Another villager had died in a recent Risen attack-- a warm, expansive young man. Even if it was never stated outright, Robin knew from the villagers’ lingering stares and terse words that they knew he was to blame.

He should be out their, paying respects for the deaths he caused, but he wanted to be awake to see his mothers off. To say goodbye, one last time. He prayed to Grima everything would work out.

---

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us, Robbie?” Circe asked, ringing her hands in her son’s doorway. “Your mother and I will be gone for at least a fortnight, maybe more if the Feroxi frost sets in early. This far north, it probably will.”

Robin fiddled with the blankets covering his lap as he sat in bed. Guilt pooled in his stomach. He looked down, not making eye contact with her, not able to bear the look of concern in her eyes. “My leg’s still bothering me… it’ll make traveling hard, and I don’t want to be a burden…” he mumbled out. While not completely a lie, he hadn’t fully healed his latest skirmish with Risen.

“Robbie… you could never be a burden to us,” Circe said as she stepped into the room and sat down, bringing an arm around to hug her son. “Your mother and I love you so much. If you think it best to stay here and heal some more, then we support your decision.”

Robin leaned against her, hugging her arm. “I love you, Mom,” he whispered. 

“I love you, too. Remember, sweetie, you can always talk to us if you have something on your mind. We can try shadow magic again if you want to figure out more about your marks--”

Choking down burning, caustic broths.

Bones erupting where they never should have.

A man smiling as he pulled out his feathers one by one.

No no no no no no no no no no no no--

“Or maybe blood magic, that might make you less prone to bad dreams than--”

“I’m fine, Mom!” Robin snapped, body going rigid, trying to control his panic as those wretched visions tried to claw back to him.

His mom flinched away, surprise and then sadness swimming in her eyes. “Sorry, Robin. I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories.” She scooted closer to him, taking his hand in hers, squeezing gently. 

Robin leaned into her embrace, murmuring, “I appreciate your efforts, but I don’t think there’s anything more you can do.”

Circe sighed before kissing his forehead. “I think you’re right, sweetie. I have to finish packing. You’ll be up in an hour to say goodbye?”

“Y-yeah,” he responded, closing his eyes.

He waited until she stood up and left the room and the hallway and the second floor before crumpling and burying his tattooed face in his hands. 

---

Their goodbye was quiet--  the cold of the Feroxi fall seemed to sap the warmth right out of the air. 

Eliza and Circe and Robin stood next to their steinbock-drawn cart, loaded with cloth and medicine and spices to be traded. 

“We’ll be back before you know it, Robin,” Eliza said, gently taking and squeezing Robin’s hand. “Don’t forget to reset the mice traps. We’ll see what books we can get for you and what games we can find for all of us”

“Thanks, Mother. I won’t forget about the mice traps. Stay safe. I heard there’s more…” he gestured with his hand as he trailed off “y’know…”

“It’ll take more than a few more Risen to cause us trouble, sweetie,” Circe said, taking and squeezing his other hand.

Robin felt his throat get tighter and before he could no longer speak, he took his hands from theirs and hugged them both. “I love you… I’m sorry I can’t come with you, and I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier, Mom,” he said, voice choked with emotion.

His mothers hugged him back. “It’s alright, sweetie. But I hope we can talk some more we return. We’re worried about you,” Circe said softly.

Eliza rubbed circles on his back, “We love you too, Robin.”

“Grima be with you.”

“And with you.”

They gently broke from the hug, smiling bittersweetly. They climbed onto the cart, reigns in hand.

Robin stood there, in front of their little house, long after they had disappeared beyond the horizon.

---

He’d leave a note they’d come home to. Explaining that no matter what they said to spare his feelings, he was an unquestionable burden on them and the village. He apologized for ruining their lives in this way, reducing a renowned healer and magical scientist to merchants traveling the edges of rural Ferox. He’d take the supplies he needed and what little money he had, and he would set out southward, to his salvation.

To Plegia.

Chapter Text

The boy sat in the rickety carriage. Like so many things he’d known in the castle, in the city, in the countryside-- it had seen better days. The castle had been awfully quiet-- too quiet since they had left him. 

His father was quiet too, but a different kind of quiet. Not the heavy, sorrowful silence of the castle, but a smoldering quiet. The kind of quiet before you snapped a heavy branch in half. He sat across from him, wordless, as the city disappeared behind them.

The silence swamped them, and when he couldn’t take it anymore, the child asked, “Father, where are we going?”

“To the Northern Castle, Eloise,” his father responded, face cold as winter stone.

“Will Emmeryn be there?”

A harsh slap rang out in the air, and it took a moment before he realized his father had slapped him across the face.

“Never speak that traitorous thief's name again, Eloise.”

His eyes watered as he cradled his throbbing cheek.

“But Emmeryn wanted to make sure we didn’t go to war again. Didn’t mother say we shouldn’t fight with the Plegians anymore?” he ventured, voice becoming smaller and smaller as tears pricked his eyes. “She said they’re just like us. Shouldn’t we be kind?”

His father stood in the carriage, his height swallowing up the small room. His large hand gripped and pulled his child’s long hair-- hard. He whimpered, tears spilling onto his cheeks.

“Your mother was a coward and a traitor. You forget what she told you.”

His son nodded, throat tight and tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Good girl. You’re going to save this heretical world. Tomorrow, when we arrive at the Castle, your training will begin. You will be Naga’s Champion. Our Champion”

---

The days began excruciatingly slowly. 

Minutes of training seemed to draw out into hours. Pain from strikes undodged and unparried, pain from pushing his body to its limit, pain from never being good enough, pain from loneliness permeated the prince’s being.

He tried so hard. He wanted to make his father happy. But he was clumsy-- falling off his horse, knocking over cups and silverware, spilling ink jars, and dropping arrows. The only thing he seemed to excel at was swordplay, which as luck would have it, was the most important thing in his role as Champion. His father scoffed at him for his poor manners and lack of grace, but those were only necessary for a king, and it was decided early on, he would only be good for Exalted Falchion and providing an heir.

Despite what his father told him on that miserable carriage ride, he couldn’t help but miss Emmeryn and his mother. Were they really traitors? They were so kind and warm. They couldn’t be bad could they? He dreamt of them often, wondered where Emmeryn was. What she was going to do with Naga’s burning fang.

He dared not ask his father these questions. Better to bury them, deep, deep within.

He always asked stupid questions and brought up stupid ideas. They weren’t good, but they were his. No matter his father’s wrath, he couldn’t stamp them out, like dandelions sprouting in the fields. Maybe one day, he could finally be good, but he wasn’t sure if he could really be that. 

Maybe he could learn to be like his father, who never cried after killing a deer; who never had to be told, yelled at, screamed at to kill the deer; who never dreamt of its scared eyes, bright-- then empty.

---

The prince hid behind one of the grand, twisting pillars in the cathedral. It was technically part of the Northern Castle, but everyone from the surrounding town came here for mass and prayer. No one was here now, who would be at midnight?

Regardless of the time, the prince felt like a trespasser. Each Sunday, he felt like he was outside looking in. He knew Naga was good-- all-loving, righteous, and noble. He came here every Sunday, he had read the scriptures, he was her Champion. But maybe it was the constant low burn of his Brand or the way his father ranted and stalked, his heart wasn’t in it. If this life is what Naga wanted for him, he wasn’t sure he could love her.

Still, he knew his duty and tried to embrace it. Grima’s Reincarnation was running rampant, sowing Risen and Terrors. He wanted to protect his people from them, cut down every last monster. 

But he doubted whether he could believe in Naga like his father, like his mother, like Emmeryn, like the townspeople who came here every week could.

---

Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid 

“Words cannot express my disappointment in you. You haven’t corrected your posture, Lady Eloise. If you tried half as hard at any of your lessons as you do in your swordplay, you would make a halfway decent heir, but--”

“I AM TRYING!” the prince screamed in frustration before throwing his lance to the dirt and running from the training ground. 

I just need to get away.

Tears blurred his vision, and he didn’t realize he had run into the forest near the Castle until his foot caught on twisted underbrush and he tripped, tumbling much too close to a ravine. 

His hand shot out, desperately grasping the edge of the ravine. His fingers slipped through the soggy earth, and he cursed the recent rainstorm as he tumbled downward, rolling towards the ground below.

He landed with a painful thud and a faceful of dirt. The prince rested for a moment before bringing himself to a sitting position.

Shit .

His tunic and trousers were covered in dirt and torn in several places. Blood welled and pooled from scrapes and scratches and his right foot throbbed, bent at a painful angle. The brand on his right shoulder burned hotter under the sullied fabric, as if scolding him for his negligence. 

The prince sat back and took deep breaths. He closed his eyes, rubbing away the tears forming in them.

Why do you have to be so fucking stupid?!?!

He ended up crying, trying to muffle his pathetic sounds for what seemed like hours.

Finally when there was nothing left, he tried taking deep breaths again.

Just calm down. You’ve made it through worse. You can make it through this.

This was nothing the healers at the Castle couldn’t handle. He just had to make it back there. At least this would grant him a few days reprieve from his lessons. Soon enough, in only a few months time, he would begin his journey as Champion, and he’d be free from these endless lessons and lectures.

It was practically within his grasp.

He rubbed the heel of his hand into his eyes. He just had to grin and bear the pain of walking to make it back to the castle now. 

He had to keep walking, keep going, keep pushing, or he’d never start again.

Chapter Text

Robin felt more than a bit haggard at this point. It took a week of trekking through the Feroxi wilderness to make it to the Ylissean border and blessed warmth inside it, and his right leg had not been happy about that. A suitable walking stick and using his precious supply of vulneries had helped, but it was clear this injury would be more haunt him more than he initially thought.  Additionally, he’d encountered three lone Risen so far, which was surprising, as they usually traveled in deadly bands. It was possible that as he got closer to the fortified Feroxi-Ylissean border, there were more soldiers to deal with those monsters.

But he was finally in Ylisse! About an eighth of his journey to Plegia and in the land of sunny skies and much less godsdamn snow! He hadn’t seen this much greenery since he was a child, traveling with his parents near the Ylissean-Plegian border.

Robin let himself get caught up in those memories as he walked through the forest. Maybe, after his curse was lifted, he could go back to his parents, if they even wanted him back. Maybe he could find Aversa. Maybe Aversa was someone who could break his curse? She was interested in magic as a child and was probably Grimleal as well, but that could change.

A soft snore stopped him in his tracks. 

He looked around, trying not to panic. A snore that loud could mean a bear or a moose or gods forbid a wyvern, but this wasn’t the Feroxi wilderness, but those beasts surely live in Ylisse too?

Robin’s gaze caught sight of the source-- a collapsed, mud-covered person-- and he relaxed.

Wait, shit!

He ran over to them as fast as he could using his walking stick and sat down beside them. 

He found, a young person, perhaps the same age as him, collapsed on the forest floor. He was dressed in blue finery and had long dark blue hair to his chest that complemented his light brown skin. Scrapes and bruises and mud covered him, possibly from falling into this forested ravine, and his ankle was surely broken.

Robin gently shook him, repeating in a soft voice, “Wake up, hey, wake up,” until he stirred.

The young man groaned and turned away from him, curling in on himself. Robin almost chuckled at his response, but he could be in serious danger if he just stayed in the wilderness like this.

“Hey, are you alright? What happened to you?”

He groaned and looked up at him, eyes unnaturally bright and blue, almost slitted like a snake’s. “Who are you?”

Robin felt himself flinch back at those eyes, as the young man rearranged himself to carefully sit up. When he found his voice, he explained, “My name is Robin. I’m traveling through this area. What happened to you?”

The young man winced as he stretched out his leg. “I fell down the ravine. I think my ankle is sprained. I tried to get out of the forest, but I think I must have passed out from the pain.”

“You what?!” Robin exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly because the man before him flinched and averted his gaze. “Sorry for yelling, it’s just, you’re ankle. It’s actually broken. It’s dangerous to walk on it.”

“Oh. Sorry, Robin.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I mean, with such an injury alone in the woods, you don’t have a lot of choices.”

“Someone will come looking for me. I just didn’t want to disappoint them,” the young man confessed.

“By being injured?”

“By being weak.”

Robin snorted and guided a ringlet of white hair behind his ear. “No offense, but if someone thinks you’re weak for not walking on a serious injury, they can jump into a pile of bison manure.”

The young man stared at him as if he grew a second head, which wasn’t unusual given his extensive markings that often drew double and triple takes. Through his parted mouth, Robin could see sharp fangs, but before he could think about that further, the young man broke out in a smile and then a laugh. 

Robin felt himself blush and smiled too. 

“Oh, I forgot to ask, what is your name?” Robin asked.

The man’s laughter abruptly stopped, and for a second, looked like a deer in a wyvern’s sight. He paused for a long time before spluttering out. “Chrom. My name’s Chrom.”

Ylisseans have strange names. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Chrom.”

“You as well, Robin.” 

“While I don’t have a stave with me,” he said remorsefully before turning to look in his bag and muttering to himself, “ didn’t prepare enough you idiot .” he turned back to Chrom, confident he hadn’t noticed and continued “I can set your ankle and clean up your scrapes.”

“You would? Why?” Chrom asked, both relieved and confused.

“Well, you’re injured, and I can’t just walk away from that. You’d do the same, wouldn't you?”

The man stared down at his hands, eyebrows drawn in thought. “I’d… I-- I don’t make good decisions. I shouldn’t…”

What does that mean? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. Um, may I see your ankle?”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” he said and let Robin get to work.

---

The Plegian’s touch was soft as he brushed away dirt and wiped off crusted blood from his scrapes before applying salve. He wondered how a man could be so gentle, even as Robin set his tender ankle.

He felt gears shifting in his mind. It was like he had fallen into another world. A world of new words, like light falling upon his skin.  A world where things were different. Where, maybe, he could be something other than what his father wanted. 

Robin was living proof his mother’s words rang true. What other buried things were right?

But he would have to leave it all too soon, and if Robin knew who he really was, it would be shattered forever. He couldn’t stay, and his heart felt heavy and contrite. 

“How’s that?” Robin asked.

“Much better. Thank you, Robin,” the prince said, smiling.

“It’s no trouble. I’m glad I could help,” he smiled back. “I’m afraid my own leg has been giving me trouble, so I don’t think I would be able to carry you, -- weak -- but I think I could support you if you leaned on me.”

The prince blinked confusedly at his not so subtle aside. He talked to himself too, so he couldn’t really judge. He responded after a second, hoping Robin didn’t mind. “Okay.”

Robin stood up, using a walking stick and reached out his hand. 

Chrom took it and let the Plegian pull him up. On his feet, he realized that Robin was nearly a head shorter than him, and as close as he was to his face, that his winged tattoos had small eyes on them. He carefully slung his arm around the shorter man’s shoulders.

“Alright?” Robin asked, just a whisper.

The prince nodded, and they set out, letting the songs of birds illuminating the air.

---

They decided to set up camp a few hours later. The prince had never been camping before, and felt exposed in the dark wilderness, but Robin didn’t seem to mind. He did say he was a traveler after all.

Chrom watched silently as he showed him how to set up the tent and kindle the fire and silently still as he whispered a Grimleal prayer before drawing out rations to eat.

After they had finished eating, the prince broke the silence. “Where are you going?”

“Hmm? Oh, I’m going to New Thabes. It’s... a bit of a pilgrimage.”

Chrom wanted to know more, but something about the look in Robin’s eyes made him hesitate. Regret, sadness. He wanted to draw him away from those painful thoughts. “Okay. You’re quite far from Plegia.”

“Ah, I’m afraid so. I’ve lived in northern Ferox for most of my life. My parents found a niche in the merchant business there,” he explained.

“That’s so cold!” the prince blurted out.

“It’s almost intolerable in the winter,” Robin replied, drawing his coat around him as if his words brought the chill with them. “What brought you to this forest, Chrom?” he asked, eyes glimmering in the firelight.

The prince tried not to make a face as the question hit him like a punch to the gut.  Shit. Okay, what’s a good lie… He’d never been good at lying, and he hoped to Naga that his new companion didn’t notice the flimsy veneer of veracity he painted onto his words.“I, um, was on a, a hunting trip. I got lost. It’s kind of embarrassing.” 

“Well, I’m glad I found you then,” Robin replied, appearing to buy his story.

“I am too,” the prince said, smiling. Guilt pooled in his stomach, but something warm did too.

They sat in silence for a while, neither quite knowing how to continue the conversation. As darkness fell, Robin suggested one of them take watch while the other rest on his bedroll. Chrom wished they could stay up together more, maybe find something to talk about, but it was a smart idea.

---

The next morning they set out again, the prince carefully putting his weight onto Robin. Neither knew how far they had to go to leave the forest, and the curious gnawing in the princes’ finally got the better of him.

“Why do you have tattoos?” he blurted out.

Robin seemed a little taken aback by those sudden words punctuating the silence.

“I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s totally fine! I don’t, I mean I’m not really allowed to learn about Plegia at all, and I thought…. I don’t know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so intrusive.” he rambled, heat rushing to his face.

“It’s quite alright. If you can’t learn about Plegia and the Grimleal on your own, I’d rather tell you than for you to hear… misconceptions about us.” He smiled again, mirth and something else tinging his lips, “but it would do well to have more grace when asking someone about such things.”

The prince nodded, still thoroughly embarrassed.

Robin began, “It’s not uncommon for Grimleal to seek tattoos of Grima’s wings or eyes for blessings or good luck or merely a sign of devotion. I guess it’s different in Ylisse, but we believe Grima spread their great wings to shelter us, their children, and that any piece of themselves or symbol is a gift to us, to protect and bless us. Grima watches over us, even still. They’re with us in the air we breathe, the ground we walk upon, in every being that lives and dies. They’re the death and renewal to Naga’s life, not some heartless monster. Grima wants justice and peace for us and for all on Archanea”

He  nodded, warm and drawn in.

“Um, my mothers found themselves in unfortunate circumstances when I was born and uh gave me a small tattoo,” he painted to a sweep of feathers above his right eye, “for good luck. We haven’t had an easy life, and, as I um grew older and more devout… I asked for more. I don’t like sticking out, but there are some things we can’t change.”

“I’m sorry….” the heir began and trailed off.

“It’s no one’s fault, but I appreciate the sentiment. Our faith has seen us through many troubles,” something sorrowful tinged Robin’s eyes again, “and it will see us through many more.” Before the prince could think to get a word in, Robin swiftly changed the subject. “So what is Naga like? I don’t think I have had the opportunity to ask a believer before.”

Chrom prayed he didn’t sound disingenuous as he began to explain. “Well, um, she’s noble and all-loving and protects us too. She was the leader of the Dragons and raised up mankind. She guided us and watches over us, wanting us to be good and love each other. She isn’t that much different than Grima now that I think of it,” he pondered.

Robin smiled thoughtfully, “like two sides of the same coin.”

“Or two halves of the same whole,” he suggested.

---

After a few days, they finally reached a nearby town, and it was a miracle word about the missing heir hadn’t spread this far yet, and there was a paucity of soldiers who could recognize him here.

The prince wanted to talk more with the young man, about Grima and the Grimleal and his life, but Robin didn’t bring it up himself that often, and he felt like asking too much more would be rude. He continued to see Robin scold himself, and the prince wanted to help, but didn’t know how. He could only squeeze his hand and thank him for his kindness, hoping he could feel the meaning behind his simple words.

The prince now sat on an infirmary bed, eyes drawn to the doorway as the nurse entered.

They came in, carrying a tray with a cup of hot tea, salves, and bandages.. “Are you feeling alright, ma’am?” they asked.

“Yes, thank you. May I ask something of you?” the prince ventured.

“Certainly. What can I do for you?”

The prince drew up the long sleeve of their tunic to reveal his smoldering Brand. The nurses’ eyes widened, and they quickly added a “milady! What can I do for you, Lady Eloise?”

The prince panicked and tried to force it down as he whispered as loud as he could, “I, please don’t tell anyone who I am, until my companion, Robin, leaves. Especially don’t tell him.”

They nodded, still dumbstruck.

The prince continued, feeling this reveal of identity to not be egregious as it was in those frantic moments, he continued. “Could you give him, Robin, my companion, more medical supplies? And traveling rations and maybe a stave if you can spare one? Also, if you have a few bullions to spare, I assure you my father will pay you back for that and the supplies.”

“Of course, L-, m’am!” they said.

“Thank you,” the prince said, allowing himself to sink back into the bed and feel the wave of fatigue he’d been fighting off. 

---

Robin sat idly in the waiting room as his companion got checked in. He didn’t realize how much he missed heated buildings. He smiled to himself as he got as cozy as he could, drawing the collar of his embroidered coat up to his face. 

As much as he’d like to stay the night here, he wasn’t going to push his luck. It had been four days without encountering Risen, and it was unlikely there would be a fifth.

“Aha!” he heard someone exclaim. 

He looked to the doorway to see a young nurse, holding some sort of package. 

“Are you Robin?” they asked.

He nodded, and they rather ceremoniously heaped the bundle into his quickly outstretched arms.

Robin felt flustered to say the least, realizing the considerable bundle held not only gold and medicine, but an entire stave. “I-, you must be mistaken, I don’t work here, I’m just traveling through.”

“Oh, no, the young lady requested this for you,” they replied.

“Chrom? 

“Y-yes! She’s just in the room to the left!” they clarified, before running off to another patient. 

What a sedulous nurse! 

“Th-thank you,” he called out after them, supplies in his arms as he walked down the hall, unsure of what just happened. It wasn’t long before he found his companion’s room, and he swiftly knocked before opening the door. “Hello, Chrom. How are you feeling?” he asked, as he entered the room.

The young man in question stopped ringing the edge of his blanket like a dishrag as he looked up, and his bright eyes met his own. “Good. You got your gifts, I see?”

“Yes, did you do this?” Robin asked as he drew up a chair to sit next to him.

“It was the least I could do for your help,” the young man shrugged.

“You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“It was no trouble, Robin.”

Robin felt himself blush under that smile. “I’m not that great…” he reflexively  muttered under his breath.

“Yes, you are,” the young man affirmed.

Robin’s head snapped up, cheeks warm as he realized he really did say that out loud in front of another living human being. 

“I’m not really good with words or… this stuff , but I’ve noticed your talking like that to yourself, and I know it’s none of my business: we’re just strangers, and I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again, but I want you to know that you’re wonderful. I could’ve been rotting in that ravine if you hadn’t been so kind and selfless. I feel… I don’t know, lighter now that I’ve known you. I haven’t seen a reason for you to be so hard on yourself, so please, try to remember that,” he said, eyes a cooler, soothing shade of blue.

Robin could only stare, feeling pieces long strewn about fall a bit more into place. “Th-thank you, Chrom. I appreciate that, really. I’m glad we met too, even if it was just for a short while.”

He smiled, and Robin did too.

Chapter Text

Sully leisurely road on horseback, taking in the scenery as the dirt road from Ylissetol castle gradually melted into the countryside. While she wasn’t wearing her usual armor, but she wore her soldier garb. She didn’t want to give any curious onlookers (or rather, spies) the impression her upcoming meeting was anything but ordinary military business.

At last she reached the North Hills fields-- open plains nearly as far as they eye could see, and she spotted her correspondent: Frederick.

She smiled as she waved and headed over to him, urging her horse Fran to gallop. 

“Hey Frederick! Got something ya might like to hear,” she called out before he joined her, riding side by side.

“Good day, Sully. Yes, pray tell,” the older man asked.

“Got promoted. Bernard wants me on the brat’s honor guard.”

The knight’s breath hitched. “King Bernard chose you? ”

Sully crossed her arms defensively. “What’s that supposed to mean, Frederick?”

“My apologies, I did not mean to put your ability or person into question. I was merely surprised at how fortuitous this is. I did not know his lordship held you in such high regard… and perhaps how I have not received word about this.”

Sully let out a small chuckle before elaborating. “I’m just damn good at what I do, and he can’t just send his generals and shit to watch his kid. Bernard can’t deny yer one of the best knights in his order, but that doesn’t mean he trusts you. Did you get caught talking to Alexander or somethin’?”

Not it was Frederick’s turn to be miffed. “I would never be so clumsy as to be caught with the Hierarch. He must not have forgotten about Lady Lissa, my support of her, nor my coming out as transgender.”

“Ya saved her life! Why’s he got his nards in a twist about that? And he can go to hell about yer gender and hers, I’m so fucking glad I didn’t enlist until I transitioned.”

Frederick sighed, “His lordship does not like when his orders are not followed. I am lucky that he is aware of what the public would think if word got out he attempted infanticide, Brand or not. As for this one of many prejudices, there’s little we can do on that front.”

“Sick fuck,” Sully spat.

They rode in silence for a while after that.

“So anyway,” she started again, “the honor guard’s me and three others. I dunno if the brat’s really as bad as they say she is, but the word from her mentors is that she’s temperamental, cold, and angry. Sounds to me likes she’s a few years from following in her old man’s footsteps, but the coming weeks’ll be the true test of that.”

“That seems reasonable,” Frederick nodded.

Sully continued, “‘Figure I could bribe the rest of the guard to leave and keep quiet or set up an “accident” so you could uhh “join.” I don’t think Sumia’d have the heart for this mission if it comes to the worst though. I heard one of Alexander’s outside contacts is an assassin. Name’s Gaius or something. Might want to get in contact with him”

“I hope it does not come to that,” Frederick said, face drawn in a tight expression.

“Do you have the heart for it, Frederick?” Sully questioned. “You could be killing your former charge. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Frederick stayed silent for a while. He finally slowed and stopped his horse to face Sully. “I do not want harm to ever come to Lady Eloise, but if she truly is her father’s successor in heart and soul and averse to growth, then I will do what I must. To protect Ylisse and the peace Her Highness built between us and Plegio in her last days, I will bloody my honor a thousand times over.”

--- 

The prince sighed as he lay in bed, resting his aching body and his throbbing ankle. The months following the accident and his meeting with Robin were worse than he could have anticipated. Missing several weeks of training meant the rest of it had to be made up in the limited time he had left, barely allowing his ankle to heal. His father insisted his journey begin on St. Hellana’s Day; she was the one who slayed Grima first after all. 

His father was concerned about his fall until he explained that it was his own fault. He slapped him again and chided him, muttering he would have to instruct his honor guard to keep a close eye on him. Not the worst outcome, but it still cast a shadow over both their moods for the next few weeks. The prince felt angry at himself for being so stupid, but he was still happy it had happened because it meant that he met Robin.

The prince didn’t want to fleece his own father, but he prevaricated when he asked him if he met anyone while he was missing. As soon as Robin left, a bittersweet smile on his face, the prince knew he was a ghost of the past, never to be seen again. Still, he wanted to keep him hidden from his father-- a beam of sunlight, to be basked in and remembered just by him.

The prince wondered if maybe, just maybe he could see Robin again. That gave him more resolve to see through the end of his training. But then he would be pushed into the world he never knew, chasing after a lost sword and an elusive reincarnation. And then he would have to kill them. He prayed his weak heart would become stronger by then, anything to make his father finally happy.

---

The weeks flew by and the flurry in the castle grew and grew. Supply bundles were assembled, weapons and maintenance equipment were organized, and carts came and went like bees from a hive. His father told him little of the arrangements for his journey until only a week before the auspicious date. 

Three supply wagons drawn by six horses, four of which would be his honor guards’ and one would be his own. One wagon would be a convoy for weapons and medical equipment, the next for food, and the last for camping equipment. The head of his honor guard would essentially lead the expedition, control their expenditures, and keep him in line. 

The prince expected as much. He never made good decisions after all. His judgement was as weak as his heart.

When the blessed day finally met him, he felt anxiety buzzing through his veins. Everything, his entire life, lead up to this. 

It felt strange that there was little fanfare or celebration. As if this day was like any other. While his father felt no shame in sending his son off to kill another country’s god, it wouldn’t do to so publicly announce this.

He said little to his father over breakfast and little still as they walked to the foyer to meet his honor guard before setting off. He couldn’t wait to escape from the smoldering quiet.

“Are you ready, Eloise?” King Bernard asked his son.

He followed him in step, chest out and shoulders broad like he taught him to. “Yes, father. I’ll make you proud.” He kept his hands to his sides, resisting the temptation to wring and fiddle with the fabric of his cape.

“You had better not this ruin simple task, Eloise,” his father growled. 

Anxiety curled and unfurled in his stomach. The heir wanted to draw his arms close to himself, but forced himself to maintain his posture. “I’ll do my best, father. I won’t let you down.”

“Good, girl.”

They continued down the corridor to the foyer, where a quartet of knights stood. They were all Ylissean and saluted upon seeing their king. One was a squat woman with unruly red hair. The two next to her were average looking knights in their late twenties, but he could see experience and grit shining in their eyes. The last was a much older knight, probably in his fifties.

“At ease.” King Bernard said. “Eloise, these are the four finest knights of Ylisse, and they will be your honor guard on this most sacred journey. Horace and Johnathan,” he swept his hand to the young men, “are experts at eliminating Risen and are also skilled survivalists.” He turned to the older man. “Damian is a skilled hunter and tracker, of both humans and animals. And lastly, Sully, is one of our best cavaliers. She’s a master of breaking through enemy lines and will continue your horseback riding lessons.”

The prince managed to hide his grimace at that last comment. “It is a pleasure to meet you all. I look forward to working with you,” he said, giving a subtle nod, just as he was taught.

“The pleasure is ours,” Damian spoke for the rest of them. “Now, milord, we must be off as soon as we can. We have reason to believe Exalted Falchion is in southwest Ylisse.”

“Very well,” the King replied. He turned to his child. “You will see your duty through. You know what must be done.”

The prince nodded. “I will not disappoint you, father.”

And with that, they set off, leaving the Northern Castle behind the horizon as they journeyed south. 

---

Sully was prepared for what seemed like the worst. Her superiors instructed her she would keep his unruly, belligerent highness in line and continue his lessons. He was apparently abysmal and immature to the point of tantrums. 

She didn’t expect the laconic young man before her, shoulders drawn as tight as a bowstring and hair drawn up in a neat bun, answering questions monosyllabically and staring off into the distance. He didn’t comment on her rough manner of speaking which was unexpected for a noble.

The other guards barely talked to him, acknowledging him only when correcting his poor posture or forgetting his manners. They seemed to act colder to him than they did each other.

The prince didn’t seem as bad as the rumors did, but time would surely tell. 

After two days of suffocating silence, they had their first riding lesson.

Sully and the heir met in an open field near their camp. She had of course brought Fran with her, and the prince had a pure white mare-- some sort of “royals only” breed.

“Show me where yer startin’, milady,” Sully said. “I was only told you go through instructors like you do training dummies and that ya have as good of a chance on horseback as ya do on lying on the ground.” 

Sully felt bad testing him, but she felt the situation demanded buttons be pushed, just a bit. She wasn’t going to learn anything about him if where they stood remained the same as it had since they met.

The prince balled his fists, jaw set tight, shaking ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, not meeting her gaze. “I’ll try harder.”

“I’m sure ya will. Now get on yer horse, milady.”

“Alright.” He lifted himself up into the saddle, and gods almighty did she have her work cut out for her.

The mare was tense, pursing her lips and tightening her muzzle. The prince slouched, held his arms too high and the reigns in a death grip, and had rammed his feet into the stirrups. 

He signaled his steed to walk and then a trot, standing in his stirrups as she moved. He nervously looked at the horse as she shook her head, and in a minute’s time she broke into a gallop and bucked him off. 

Sully mounted her own horse and galloped to where her liege lay before hopping off to help him up. 

“Gods, that was awful,” she remarked.

The prince buried his face in his hands, breathing heavily before pulling his hair, so forcefully it broke free from his bun and letting out a strangled scream. 

Sully tensed, waiting to see his next reaction.

“I-I need to take a break!” he yelled with barely held back frustration, running off back to camp without a glance.

Maybe she had set her expectations too low. Sully chewed her lip, hoping she could remedy the situation, that she wasn’t his next fired instructor.