Work Text:
"Still out here, Ignatz?" Leonie's words cut through the heavy summer air, as she crested one of the many rolling hills behind him.
"Ah, Leonie," he made no attempt to subdue his excitement about her appearance. "Just the person I needed. Tell me, do you really think I've captured the essence of these fields?"
Leonie made her way towards him, her footfalls deft. Her approach was much quieter than usual - she was missing her armored pieces. She stopped just over his shoulder to scrutinize his work, head cocking back toward the vast fields his easel faced.
"I don't think I'm the best person to ask," she admitted after a moment. "I'm not an artist."
"Even better - you're a hunter. You more than anyone should be able to tell me if a single detail is out of place."
Leonie blinked at him a few times as her gloved hand found the back of her neck.
"It's…"
"Yes?" He probed gently.
"It's empty," Leonie finally admitted with that last bit of coaxing.
"Empty?" Ignatz echoed. He wasn't offended, but it wasn't the answer he had expected.
"Well, not literally, it's almost perfect if we're just talking about the way you painted the scene. But… where are the birds?" She asked, pointing to the sky. Above them, a few large birds circled in the distance.
"The vultures," he noted. "I wasn't sure I should include them. It's a bit sad to think that something died out there."
"Yeah. But it's even sadder to think that you're painting a world where nothing ever lived." Leonie murmured absently, facing the wind.
A moment later she seemed to be possessed by her own words again, turning with an apologetic expression on her face.
"I'm sorry, Ignatz! Like I said, I'm not an artist. You are. And if you think something is right, you do it, okay?" The words gushed forth from her like a spring, and Leonie cursed her penchant for bluntness.
"No, Leonie, that was… poetic," he said. From behind his lenses, she could see the warmth in his eyes. So sincere, always so gentle. It ignited a heat within her chest that, even now, she held no desire to free herself of.
Her shoulders dropped as she relaxed, only for her to tilt her head in confusion.
"You don't think it was… Well, rude?"
"I asked for your opinion, didn't I?" Ignatz smiled at her. The sun's heat felt heavier on her, somehow.
"I guess you did," Leonie chuckled, a bit awkwardly. "Sorry. I just know how much your art means to you."
"My wife means more, you know," he stated quite simply, moving to kiss her cheek. "But I think you have a point. I wouldn't want to paint a world where nothing lives."
He paused, reaching down to run his hand over her rounded stomach.
"Especially now."
"Good," Leonie relaxed at the familiar touch, the warmth from his palm unwinding her gradually. "Then you'll have one more person to share the fields with. Vultures and all."
"Mmm," he made a small hum, something between contentment and agreement, and pulled his hand away. "It's beautiful, isn't it? I imagined Almyra would be stunning, but this is incredible."
"Claude had his reasons for coming back," she said lightly. "Had to be something here worth the trouble, huh?"
The joke caused her to dwell briefly on her old friends. It had been many moons since she last saw them in person, and perhaps more still until she would, but it comforted her knowing that she and Ignatz weren't alone in Almyra. Claude had left immediately following the war, to some stir within the Alliance - now the United Kingdom of Fódlan.
They departed sometime after, as well. Their travels had been vast, to lands beyond what the cartographers of Fódlan often showed. After discovering that she was with child, however, they began to make their way back to the land they left behind. But such a journey was far easier said than done - and several moons later, Leonie could feel the strain of her travels wearing on her in a new way.
Ignatz fretted over her the entire time, but he had called off the final leg of the journey as they entered Almyra. Leonie insisted she could make it - she had been a mercenary, after all, but Ignatz was adamant about finding shelter for her. With the money he made from his paintings, it didn't take long before they found an isolated homestead on the veldt.
In truth, she knew it was the right call. There were few objective truths in life, but one was that roads presented a perpetual danger of bandits and opportunists, no matter the country. And despite her incredible prowess, the presence of a child would hamper her ability to fight as she had before. Finally, though Fódlan's Throat was no longer the site of so many violent clashes, both Ignatz and Leonie knew from experience how treacherous the mountain range could be.
So, that was that. Leonie didn't particularly mind their situation, there was no one in Fódlan who she couldn't write to. More importantly, it seemed Ignatz had grown fond of the scenery, and seeing him so inspired warmed her chest.
Shortly after settling, they sent word to their dear friend, king Claude von Riegan. He was elated, insistent that they come visit as soon as they were able. He also revealed that Lysithea and Cyril had taken up residency in his palace. The news surprised both herself and Ignatz, who remarked how odd it was that Cyril would willingly return. He had mentioned to her before how much Cyril resisted the idea, and Leonie wondered if Claude had anything to do with his change of mind.
They were certainly due for a visit soon, with so much having changed. The idea of reuniting with so many of their old friends was thrilling, though Leonie winced at the thought of having to abstain from alcohol while at a reunion. But she had a responsibility to uphold, as unexciting as it currently was. And perhaps it would be nice to remember the entire night this time.
Ignatz turned away from her after a moment, gazing thoughtfully at the open sky and the circling scavengers as he reclaimed his brush and dipped it into a small heap of dark paint. She watched him attentively block in the forms of the birds. In only a few masterful strokes of his wrist, they already seemed to spring to life. His talent took her breath away no matter how many times she witnessed it up close.
When he finished, he stood back, glancing between the canvas and the scene before them.
"I think you were right, Leonie," he announced proudly after a moment's consideration. "It's just what it needed."
He turned to gaze at her warmly from behind his circular lenses, and she came to stand at his side.
"Another fine work from the esteemed Mister Victor," her voice was heavy with teasingly pretentious reverence, and he knew she was imitating the critics and curators that fawned over even his most rushed doodles.
"Oh, please," Despite his feeble disapproval, Ignatz chuckled at his wife's impression. "I've had quite enough of that."
"Fine, fine. It's beautiful, Ignatz." Leonie murmured, sincerity shining through her affectionate tone. She shifted to rest her head against his shoulder, and he reciprocated by leaning so that their heads touched.
"I'm glad you think so. I'm still getting used to the idea that this place is our home." He admitted a bit sheepishly. "If you'd told me I was going to someday settle in Almyra, I would've -"
"- been thrilled. Curious, maybe even a bit nervous, and you'd have asked a million questions." Leonie interjected.
"... You really do know me too well, you know. It's frightening."
"Knowing you is the easiest business in the world."
The look in her amber eyes somehow radiated more warmth to him than the Almyran sun overhead.
"Now, come on," Leonie continued after a moment, her hand gently finding his. "You've been out here all day and I'd like to have you to myself for a bit."