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It was Alphinaud and Alisaie’s idea to begin with. The First seemed to have no midwinter holiday to speak of, but the first winter in a hundred years demanded a celebration to mark its passage. And ultimately they wanted a Starlight with all the trimmings and trappings for Ryne, who had never had such an experience. It was the Exarch’s idea to bring it to the rest of the Crystarium, that all the children of the city might experience such joy, and all the adults feel young again if only for a little while.
They struck in the middle of the night, the Warrior of Darkness and Lyna both necessary to carry in the tree they’d carefully selected, and the other Scions with a bevy of items commissioned and crafted and harvested. By the time they’d finished the tree stood in the Exedra bright and proud, and boughs of pine and holly and jewel colored ornaments hung throughout the common areas at the heart of the Crystarium. At last the Warrior called on Feo Ul, and requested the king of the fae spare them a touch of pixie magic. They obliged, zipping through the Crystarium, and every swag of greenery and finally the tree itself lit up with tiny motes of rainbow light dancing among the limbs.
The Exarch observed from a short distance back, grateful and more than a little overwhelmed that they were no longer fighting quite so desperately for their lives, that they all had time for these small indulgences. He looked forward to the morning, the moment of revelation and explaining to his people the celebration, and began formulating a plan to encourage them to devise their own take on it rather than borrowing from the Source’s. “Exarch?”
He turned to find Alphinaud and Alisaie behind him, carrying the golden glass star that would top the tree. “We thought it fitting that you have the honors,” Alphinaud said, and Alisaie stepped forward, offering it to him.
The thought had not occurred to him, and he stood there dumbfounded for a split second before he found the words to respond. “Are you quite certain?”
“Can you think of someone better?” Alsaie grinned at him, and pressed it into his hands. “And don’t say the Warrior of Light.”
“Thank you,” he said instead, and turned to find them adjusting the ladder that stood next to the tree. He made for it, climbing up carefully with his precious burden, and leaned across to place the star. It took a bit of work, placing the star just so at the very top, and at the last his folly became apparent: sandals were terrible for this sort of work. Overextended, he slipped full clear of the ladder and fell.
Magics he’d learned for taking a blow in combat came to his lips, but the Exarch never had a chance to use them, instead falling squarely into a pair of strong arms. He blinked in alarm up at the face of his now many-times savior, who merely grinned down at him.
“Seems I’ve made the Saint’s nice list this year,” and then they kissed him, right there in full view of the Scions.