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The festivals began with a loud bang. Quite literally, as catapults shot off arrows in the sky, with gold and white flowers adorning the tip. Flowers rained down upon the merriment of people.
Everyone was happy— for Queen Marika had chosen an heir.
Her eldest, Godwyn, perched himself upon the balcony, waving gracefully to the citizens below.
Behind him, his siblings lay in line.
Morgott, a silent but stoic man, always seen in the line of duty.
Mohg, who was a little out of sorts, but worthy nonetheless stood with his hands clasped behind his back, squinting upon the masses.
Then lay the half siblings. Of course there was Malenia, the most fearsome with a blade yet elegant. Beside her was Miquella— long hair flowed down upon his white robes and it was hard not to stare. There was something quite… mesmerizing about him, wasn’t there?
Radahn stood furthest in the back, for he was the widest— and biggest of the siblings.
And lastly there was Ranni, perched upon the side of the building with ease. She was always so far away— looking upon the sky with endearment.
But… there seems to be one missing, right?
Ah, yes.
The everliving flame. Messmer.
If it wasn’t for his mother’s obvious shame; the tall flame would have been up there too, basking in the light, the love. For what more could a man like him need?
Instead, he had trudged his way through the empty town. For all the residents lay upon the capital, screaming and cheering for his dear sibling. Godwyn the golden.
“Regrettable.” He growled. Mad his mother had brushed him away. Mad that he couldn’t stand in glory just like his own blood.
All because of some rumored curse. Bah.
His feet soon met with soft ground; flowers adorned the spaces in every which way, in every color and shade. It would have been a peaceful sight if the man’s hands hadn’t burned with utter contempt.
He hadn’t even realized he walked so far. And to the flower lands no less. Somewhere he was forbidden to cross, for his, “curse,” had put it at risk.
If only he had blonde hair. If only he hadn’t picked up the flames, this all could be so easy!
“E-excuse me, sir knight?” Whipping around, his hands instantly went to seize the neck of the one who interrupted him. Only to pause, just barely grazing his fingernails across their neck.
It was a… woman?
Squealing at the sudden action, she reeled back, dropping the basket of flowers and herbs with a clunk.
“I’m sorry— im so sorry!” Confusion etched around Messmers features, taking his hand back he stood tall, instantly towering over the poor girl.
He eyes her suspiciously. Sure, she looked harmless with those wet eyes, little frame and sunkissed face, but who was he to assume?
“State thou’s purpose.” The girls lip wobbled, brushing her shaking hands off her dress she nodded.
“I— im a gatherer, sir knight. I collect uhm, herbs and florals for the town,” she blinked slowly at the red haired man and he did nothing butch watch on, analyzing each breath— each move she took.
“And why is your… stature so close to thys own?”
She let out a shaky smile, it ran across her face smoothly and perfect teeth shined back brightly at the man.
She was indeed lovely to look at.
“I— I thought you could use some company, perhaps a flower?”
Messmer squinted. “Flower?”
It only made the girl smile wider, as she looked around curiously for her basket of goodies.
“Yes! Of course, flowers help with everything.”
“Flowers help with nothing.” The flame scoffed, already itching to leave the girls presence.
Her expression had changed almost instantly and Messmer wanted to set himself ablaze. A torn look ran across her, mixed with confusion, sadness. Never before had such a man spoken to her so… loosely.
“W-well that’s not true,” she rebutted, already grabbing out a special plant for the man.
She felt the familiar texture and pulled the flower lightly, until both their eyes settled upon it.
It was a Erdleaf flower. It was so bright, shining on with golden purpose. The petals were held delicately upon the bud and the stem was being placed into the man’s hands before he could blink.
“You’re of royal descent. Gold shines through your blood like no other, so it’s perfect!” She beamed. Her hands had grazed his in the process, and gods, were they soft. So much smaller than his too.
“I don’t have anything in exchange,” he breathed out. Entranced by the order of petals and the way it sat upon his monstrous hands.
No one had spoken so softly to him before. Or even acknowledged his fealty to the golden order.
So for her to say it so easy; so casually. It made the man sag with newfound joy and comfortability.
“That’s okay, it’s a gift!” Her neck was starting to get sore from looking up upon the flame. Yet she stood there still, lovingly gazing from him to the flower perched upon his palms.
“Just take care of it for me, okay?” Already grabbing at the heavy basket, the lady began to back away waving goodbye to the royal knight warmly.
Messmer could do nothing but watch.
Say something you fool! He had thought, but it was too late, she was too far, her frame a mere dot in his vision.
Tingles erupted upon his body. He didn’t understand it. To feel so hot, yet cold at the same time.
Surely this isn’t.. adoration?
No. Of course it wasn’t. Such a thing has no place in a mind like his.
Finally gaining control over his senses, the man marched back.
And it was so silly, to see a man of his stature, cradling an erdleaf flower with gentle hands that could carry the weight of flame.