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Since he saw her as a kid, Arthur had thought Azura had the most sorrowful of expressions on her face. She looked like some of the fanciest paintings by acclaimed Nohrian painters that hung by the hallways of Castle Krakenburg, paintings of gorgeous women in silk dresses and feathery hair clips, with pink lips and blushed cheeks—but not entirely for her looks, but rather for the hollow, melancholic look of her eyes that always seemed to be looking ahead in the distance, searching for something that wasn't there.
Azura, the maiden of the lake that always seemed about to fade away amidst bubbles and sizzle away in silence.
When she was convinced nobody was looking, she would glance at the distance with unfocused eyes, a blank expression in her face like one of Lady Elise's porcelain dolls.
As an ally of justice, Arthur was convinced that bringing joy to others was one of the many shapes justice embraced. And be her eyes filled to the brim by tears or devoid of any light, Arthur wished he could make genuine emotion bloom in her. Making her laugh, or even a small smile, Arthur wanted to make it come true, he wanted to see her enjoying life for a bit.
And there was her again, Lady Azura, seated alone in the Mess Hall, on a table that was hidden away by the shadows in a corner. Seated with her face looking down at the table, long strands of icy blue hair spilling over her face, obscuring her eyes—those golden eyes that were surely magical, casting spells over unlucky mortals like him that became enchanted by her deep melancholy. He had born the unluckiest of all men, after all.
Following his auto-imposed guidelines of justice and appropriate code of conduct with allies, Arthur walked with confident, wide strides towards her table. Of course, a wide, toothful smile in his face.
He would make a joke or two, maybe a funny anecdote—he had plenty of those. And then, maybe, she will cheer up.
"Lady Azura!" He called her, his bombastic voice echoing against the empty Mess Hall walls, yet she barely reacted, instead of jumping in her seat, she simply blinked and slowly raised her head, cerulean hair spilling over her shoulders. A blank stare was proof she was recognizing him—even when she politely smiled, there was something sad about it. "It delights me to see you in good health! Is this seat unoccupied?"
Arthur placed his hand over the back of the chair in front of Azura.
She nodded.
"It's good to see you with so much energy, Arthur. Yes, yes it is free." Azura said with her melodious voice—even when simply speaking, her voice was the most harmonious of all, all of her words felt like the song of spring birds announcing the coming of spring.
Be it his bad luck attacking again or how enraptured he became by Azura's magical voice, instead of dragging the chair backwards to sit, Arthur pressed his hand against the back, forcing it to slide in the ground and drag him in the fall.
Loud clatter followed his fall as he hit his ribs against the edge of the seat. Wincing in pain at the impact, Arthur could hear the sound of another chair dragging against the floor. And when he raised his face, he saw Azura with a furrowed brow in her face, worry plastered in her expression as she peered from over the table at him.
"Oh, my goodness, Arthur, are you hurt?" Her vacant tone was broken apart with clear concern, the shell of Azura’s impassivity cracked for a moment.
"Worry not, my lady! I simply took a seat in a new, innovative way." He said with faux reassurance, laughing, or rather trying to, to calm down Azura's worry—he soon stopped as it hurt, wincing at the jab pulsating by his side.
Arthur was already used to his mishaps and misadventures, accepting it was just another obstacle in the path of justice—a painful, sad, full of catastrophes path. And sometimes, he was lucky enough to at least cheer someone else day with his buffoonery.
And that day seemed to be one of those, as a chirping, melodious chuckle from Azura erupted.
And when he looked up at her, air left his chest once again; looking at her up from the ground, he was bewitched by the beauty of her uncommon but genuine smile, how she closed eyes and pink colored her pale cheeks, as well as the song of her soft laughter. Her laughter was elegant yet retained a fresh, pure hearted tone—surely what newborn stars sounded like.
"Oh, Arthur, you always see the glass half full." She said affectionately as she crossed from one side to the table to the other, tending her hand to him. "Here, let me help you out."
While fascinating in the beauty of her melancholy, the way she shined when she smiled was like a spell Arthur was entrapped in—one he wished he was a mage to extend beyond a fragile moment. He came to help and ended up being caught instead.
Arthur would gladly fall over chairs all day, every day if he could secure seeing that smile again by doing that.