Chapter Text
I
I wonder, little starbird
Wonder where your travels lead
Among the stars do you herd
Can I just, but once, be me?
A drop of red wax fell on the crease of the envelope, two, three, before a seal was stamped into the blot. Tired blue eyes examined the seal and an aged face smiled at a satisfactory result. He set the letter on the stack of some fifty others and dipped his quill in the inkwell before starting anew on a fresh sheet of parchment as a strand of graying blond hair fell to the side of his face.
Dearest honored guest,
I hereby invite you to attend a three-day celebration of my beloved Ryne's sixteenth nameday. Celebrations will commence on the thirteenth sun of the Sixth Astral Moon. Let this joyous occasion bring us and our nations closer.
Warm regards, King Nero Scaeva of La Noscea
* * *
Blue eyes fluttered open as the first rays of dawn poured into the room. Ryne rubbed at her eyes and brushed blonde hairs out of her face. She gently slipped out of her bed and onto the cold, wooden floor, each board squeaking as her weight shifted. Her nightdress fluttered about as the frills lining the bottom came dangerously close to kissing the floor. She opened the window and winced slightly as the sun peaked out over the sea. The pink sky contrasted against the sea as Limsa Lominsa had already sprung to life.
Already gone were the black banners that draped the towers and the spires throughout the city, replaced with the nation's symbol: a golden, winged ship adrift in a sea of red. The cold winter breeze wrapped around the tower, and Ryne drew her arms closer until it passed. She had half a mind to fetch a coat when she noticed a snowflake drifting down in front of her. Soon, more snow began to drift from the heavens into the water and settling atop the city's roofs.
Ryne rested her chin on her hand, leaning against the window's molding, taking in the faint scent of the sea. A rustling of wings brought her attention to a bluebird that landed on the edge of the sill. It stared at her with bright eyes and cocked its head. "Poor thing, you must be cold," Ryne said as she leaned further out the window before she noticed its prodigious plumage hanging a fulm off its tail. "By the Twelve," she whispered.
She held her hand out towards the bird and held her breath. Surely, it wouldn't. The bird hopped and angled itself before looking Ryne in the eye. The split-second before she pulled back, the bird stepped towards her. It looked her up and down before jumping on her hand, talons digging into her skin. Her mouth fell open. To have a starbird on one's hand... surely her wish will be granted. But should she make a selfish wish, or one for-?
There was a knock at the door, and Ryne let out a startled cry as the bird took flight and shrank away as it took towards the heavens. She watched it until it left her sight, but still she stared out, hoping it'd return to her. "Princess!? Are you all right?" a man asked as he opened the door. Ryne spun on her heels and backed up against the window, her face relaxing when she looked into his blue eyes.
"Haurchefant! You startled me," she straightened out her hair with her hand.
"Forgive the intrusion, but I heard you yell," he said as he knelt down to be at eye-level with her.
Ryne smiled as she stepped forward. "I'm fine," she put a hand over her chest, "I was merely lost in thought." Haurchefant narrowed his eyes as his eyes drifted slightly. She followed his gaze to her hand and saw the streaks of red, small drops of blood making their way downward.
"What happened here?" he asked, concerned. He tied his handkerchief around the scratches after wiping the blood away.
Ryne winced as he tended to her. "A bird perched itself on my hand and your knocking spooked the poor thing."
"Fortunately, the scratches aren't terribly deep." He looks her in the eye. "I'd still see the conjurer sooner rather than later." Ryne nodded and gestured for him to leave the room. "Happy nameday, Princess," he said as he turns and leaves. Ryne looked down at the handkerchief, faint dots of red seeping through.
* * *
Thaliak's blessings upon Your Majesty,
I write you again to confirm that my children will join me in attendance of your daughter's coming of age celebration. This is their first foray into foreign politics, and I am delighted that they might meet such a fair and just king in person.
To you and yours: good health and peace between our realms, Fourchenault Leveilleur, Speaker of Sharlayan's Forum
"Builder, break him!" Nero cursed as he dropped the letter atop his desk. Not every occasion would bring the illustrious Speaker out of his hole. Why this one? Was it an excuse for his younglings to worm their way into politics under a mentor? As he recalled, they had recently came of age themselves. He stood and reached for his cane and carelessly grasped the letter, crumpling it and the envelope. The cane softly thudded against the stones as he strode towards the fireplace and cast the accursed missive into the flames.
He looked out the solitary window and gazed at the light flurry outside. His fury dampened as he watched the snow fall. This early in winter, it was quite rare to see so much snow. Why, the last time it snowed like this before Heavensturn was the day he first held his youngest in his arms. His smile quickly faded as he thought of the late Queen. He looked back to the fire, the letter now burnt to cinders.
In the past, the Speaker sought an alliance with La Noscea, but Sharlayan had a fair sight more to gain from it. The Sea Reavers from Garlemald have been quite agitated of late, and if Sharlayan were to be attacked, Nero would have no choice but send aid. His eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze eastward. The Sea Reavers were indeed a formidable force, if they were allowed to make landfall. Nero nearly jumped onto his chair, letting the cane fall to the floor as he quickly began to pen a new letter. La Noscea was not the only naval power in these seas.
* * *
Ryne walked down the corridor, turning over her now-bandaged hand. "Ser Haurchefant worries too much, 'tis only a scratch," the conjurer said, but she treated it regardless. She rounded the corner towards the courtyard, and stopped as she passed a painting. It depicted a woman in a pink dress sitting in a humble, but well-crafted, chair. Her long, blonde hair flowed down her back, and brilliantly blue eyes stared back at Ryne.
She remembered when that portrait was painted, as vague as the memories are. Vague enough that she wasn't sure which were true anymore. But she was certain that her sister, Lyse, went to quite a bit of trouble to keep her from bothering the Queen. The Queen looked over towards the two and gave a soft smile. The same smile that was reflected in the portrait, looking upon passersby. Ryne ruefully tore her gaze away and hurried down to the courtyard before she was late for her swordplay lesson.
Her tutor was standing beneath the lone tree in the courtyard, leaning against it as his red tail lashing in apparent agitation. He turned his head towards Ryne as she approached and shifted forward. "You're late, Princess," he said as Ryne looked into his ruby-red eyes. His breath visibly puffed as he spoke.
"Mine apologies, Master G'raha," she waved her bandaged hand. "A minor injury kept me."
G'raha's expression softened as he smiled. "'Tis fortunate that it was only your left hand." He held his right hand way from him, and aether swirled and crackled as a rapier of solid light formed beside him. Once it took its full shape, he gripped it hard and made a few flashy slashes into the air before striking a dramatic pose. "Shall we begin?" Ryne nodded and drew her training foil from her hip, immediately taking a defensive stance.
Throughout the hour, Ryne made precious few strikes, usually parrying and dodging away from G'raha's blade. Of the strikes she made, only three struck true: all of them cuts. Not a single thrust had made its mark. Once their hour was up, G'raha dissipated his blade and Ryne returned hers to her belt. G'raha's shook his head. "Your defense is quite good, but your offense leaves much to be desired."
"Mine apologies, Master," she said, eyes cast downwards. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the snow beginning to lay on the grass.
"But you've become less reliant on feints. One step at a time, Princess." He turned away and walked towards the gatehouse. "I'm loathe to keep it brief, but you've a long day ahead of you yet," he yelled over his shoulder. Ryne stayed quiet as she turned back towards towards the keep. Yes, there was much and more to do before tonight. But, to her relief, her father would not be holding court today.