Work Text:
“We are in your debt for your kindness, but… I’m worried about her.”
Not even the faintest glimmer of sunlight could pierce the heavy Sharlayan window coverings, and were the door to the library not ever so slightly ajar, Yda would surely have lost track of time entirely. As she turned her attention back to her surroundings, an enormously tiny pair of blue eyes framed by perfect flaxen locks could just barely be seen peeking around the edge of a comparatively massive bookshelf.
“She has been through quite the ordeal,” the man beside her reminded, his tone even and almost calming. His name was Louisoix, an accomplished Sharlayan scholar, and though his years numbered near triple her own, Yda had immediately felt at ease the moment she’d met him.
“She did well to come this far,” Yda agreed with a nod, watching as her sister disappeared from view behind the wall of tomes. “She’s not old enough to understand what’s happened.”
“Lyse understands that you love her,” Louisoix returned with a warm smile. “The rest she will learn and come to accept in time.”
A frown crept onto Yda’s face. “But–“
“You mustn’t rush the child,” the sage interrupted gently, holding up a hand to silence the much younger woman. “She has been through an ordeal, as have you, and you both must find your place in this new world you have discovered.”
“Aye, well I’m a grown woman and she’s a child,” Yda continued, crossing her arms and frowning.
Before either could speak, a new voice cut through the momentary silence. “I have a thought on that, actually.”
Yda and Louisoix turned toward the new voice. A young man, no older than Yda herself, stood near the doorway. As he noticed the girl once again spying the group from behind the safety of her bookcase, he motioned for them to follow.
“Thancred,” Louisoix explained as the pair moved toward the library entrance. “An Archon in the Circle, much like you.”
“Like me?” Yda asked with a raised brow, much to Thancred’s clear amusement.
“I’m sure Louisoix didn’t intend to imply you’re like me,” he told her with a smirk, his eyes quickly flitting back to their eavesdropper. “You don’t think she can hear us from here, do you?”
Yda glanced over her shoulder at her sister. The girl’s blue eyes watched them intently. “I doubt it,” Yda finally replied before turning back to the two men. “Why?”
“Well, because it’s Starlight.” Thancred’s eyes went wide when Yda simply stared at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t celebrate Starlight in Ala Mhigo.”
Yda stared right back. “We’ve had a lot of war these last few years, in case no one had informed you.”
The bard cleared his throat. “Right, fair.”
“You mean to introduce the child to the Starlight celebration?” Louisoix inferred, a smile on his face. “An inspired notion.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Thancred returned, placing a hand on the older man’s shoulder, “because I can think of none better than you to fill the ever-important role of the Saint of Nymeia.”
Louisoix’s smile faded. “Pardon?”
Now it was Yda’s turn to smile. “Perhaps I judged you prematurely, Thancred.”
“I knew you and I would get along,” Thancred replied, his grin still spread his face. “Now, let’s talk about costuming…”
There was a near thunderous crash and an even louder swear as Rivayn approached, and for just a moment he considered turning around and quietly escaping. But only for a moment.
“Lyse…?” he inquired cautiously, poking his head around the edge of the open doorway. Lyse sat despondently amidst a haphazardly strewn pile of what Rivayn could only assume were Starlight decorations. Her features betrayed no sense of relief at his arrival.
Wordlessly, Lyse picked herself up off the floor in a huff and began to gather up the scattered items. Rivayn could sense her frustration as she piled one item on top of another in her arms until it had become an overflowing beast. If he didn’t do something, she’d end up right where she started.
“Can I help, maybe?” he asked delicately as he stepped into the room, careful not to crush a nearby bauble underfoot. Lyse replied with naught but a defeated sigh as Rivayn leaned down to pick up the object. An ornament, he was sure, meant to adorn a traditional Starlight tree, though there were none to be found in Rhalgr’s Reach.
“Everything’s a mess,” Lyse mumbled under her breath as she carefully set the collection of decorations down on a nearby table.
“That’s what holidays are,” Rivayn returned, stepping forward to plop the ornament down beside the rest of the pile. “Everything’s always a mess, right up til it’s perfect.”
Lyse scoffed and rolled her eyes. “No such thing as a perfect Starlight,” she told him, looking around the room. “But we do the best we can, anyway.”
“For the children, right?” Rivayn was surprised to see Lyse’s features soften, then turn to a frown. Somehow, he’d said the wrong thing, yet again. But… “What’s going on, Lyse?”
“I hate Starlight,” she declared with a huff, leaning against the table and looking at the floor.
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Rivayn replied, reaching down into the pile and pulling out a tattered length of garland. “Gods, what is this made of? It can’t be real.”
Despite her obvious intention to remain utterly morose, the corner of Lyse’s mouth tugged into a smile. “It was, once upon a time.”
Rivayn quirked an eyebrow. “Magic?”
“Magic,” Lyse agreed with a nod. “Unnatural death-defying garlands make me glad I’ve no inclination to the arcane.”
“Sometimes I’m with you on that,” Rivayn agreed with a chuckle. “But really, Lyse, what’s got you so bothered?”
She shrugged. “I just don’t like this holiday.”
“You love holidays,” Rivayn countered. “Every single godsdamned one of them.”
“That’s an exaggeration.”
“You collected every one of those godsdamned mammets,” he reminded her with a firm look.
A rosy hue rose in Lyse’s cheeks. “Don’t judge me!”
“Starlight is exactly the kind of holiday you should love,” Rivayn told her. “So what’s the deal, Lyse?”
“I just…” She sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “Starlight reminds me of Yda.”
Ah, so that was it. He probably should have realized. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Another louder, deeper sigh. “My first Starlight was in Sharlayan, after we’d escaped from Ala Mhigo during the occupation.”
“Gods, what were you, five summers old?”
“Just about,” Lyse returned with a slight smile. “I was terrified of everybody. Used to hide in the library, behind the book cases. Sometimes in the book cases.
“I found out later it was actually Thancred’s idea,” Lyse continued, her eyes fixed on the floor. “He thought if they put together a big Starlight celebration for me it’d bring me out of my shell. Help me deal with… you know, everything.”
“Did it work?”
“Why do you think this is so hard for me now?” she countered. “Of course it worked, and every time I so much as think about Starlight, all I can remember is that one perfect holiday…”
Rivayn resisted his natural urges to speak and kept his silence as Lyse pushed herself away from the table. She paced the room quietly until she finally erupted in an annoyed huff.
“Gods, Rivayn, all I wanted to do was give the children here in the Reach that same hope that Yda and the Archons gave me,” she told him before burying her face in her hands. “I can’t even do that right.”
“Hey, give yourself a break,” Rivayn urged, moving toward her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about growing up, having finally done it recently myself, it’s that no matter how responsible you want to be, life still happens and it doesn’t play fair.”
“Look, Rivayn, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but–“
“There are no buts here,” he interrupted with as serious an expression as he could muster. “I mean, except for mine.”
Lyse couldn’t help but snort a laugh. “You can be an arse sometimes, I’ll admit.”
“I think what we need to do is make some new Starlight memories to help you think about something else at this time of year,” he began, earning a frown for his efforts. “Not to replace the ones you have from Sharlayan,” he quickly added, “but to complement them.”
Lyse looked unconvinced. “So, what, you’re going to help me decorate?”
“Absolutely,” Rivayn agreed with an enthusiastic nod. “Make sure you keep count of exactly how many of these things I break.”
Lyse frowned. “Please don’t destroy my decorations.”
“Never on purpose,” he replied with a wink before scooping up as many of the baubles as he could reasonably – and safely – carry. “Alright, what are we doing first?”
With a defeated sigh, and a hint of a smile, Lyse gestured toward the door. “If you’re going to help, I suppose we can start outside.”
Rivayn grinned victoriously. “Aye aye, Commander.”
“Rhalgr as my witness, I am not afraid to pummel you.”
“Noted,” Rivayn acknowledged with a chuckle. “Come on then, Lyse. Let’s make some memories.”