Chapter Text
A weakened mother dragon stands in the courtyard of Lythos Castle. Sigurd is struck by an anxiety that history is repeating itself.
The Fell Princess’s days as a general are over. She is in no shape to fight, even after her recovery. What little power left in her is drawn from the Emblem necklaces, but the process drains her so thoroughly that it is too dangerous to attempt. She has no need to rend time and space, regardless. All she does now is walk the castle grounds for fresh air, peruse the library, and briefly speak to Lythian attendants. Sigurd has returned to his own duties as a guardian of the holy land and finds himself encountering Lueur often. She rarely speaks to him, only offering a nod in response much of the time. Today, she looks him directly in the eye and breaks that habit.
“I promise that I am well enough to manage on my own, sir knight.”
“I apologize. I mean no insult,” Sigurd says, bowing quickly to her. She seems unhappy with his presence, but says nothing to dismiss him. He knows that he is hovering, and it must come across as terribly invasive to Lueur. A mere few weeks ago, they crossed swords. Lueur swept down upon Sigurd as he knocked a possessed Seliph to the ground, wailing for her child as only a mother could. It was only a moment between the two, but the warring protectiveness over Seliph could only be described as vicious.
And now? Despite the lack of familiarity, Sigurd wishes nothing less than the best for his son’s mother; her health is of grave concern to him so long as it is to Seliph.
“Princess Lueur, could we speak for a moment? I fear there is a... resentment that I would much prefer to banish.”
“I have no intention of taking your son from you,” she replies curtly. Sigurd holds back a sigh.
“No, I— I am under no impression that you wish to do so. My concern—” Sigurd looks around to confirm that they are alone. “—is the opposite. That you feel that I wish to keep Seliph from you.”
Lueur makes a puzzled, suspicious face. “Nothing will keep me from my children again. Even if you tried, there would be no taking him from me.”
Her confidence baffles Sigurd. It seems that she could not care less of what Sigurd intends.
“Regardless of the futility of doing so, I wish to make my intentions clear. I hold no ill-will toward you. We are allies now, and we both care for Seliph. I would prefer that our relationship be amicable.”
“So long as there is no reason to feel otherwise, I have no issue with you.”
Her words speak to one sentiment, but her tone suggests another. Sigurd decides that pushing further would do little to help, and only smiles in response.
Sigurd does not mention Lueur’s hesitation to Seliph or Alear. The Fell Princess is recovering both mentally and physically in a place that is eerily familiar despite not being her home. Her children have found other people whom they call family. There is a tentative peace here without a threat looming over the entire continent. Her life has changed drastically in such a short time.
Camilla is of a similar mind. “She just needs some time to herself to adjust. I wouldn’t worry about what she says to you right now. She might even be embarrassed about it later.”
“I hope that she can become comfortable here. Seliph told me that she was much like Alear in the past.”
“If that’s the case, then I think there isn’t much to worry about.” Camilla studies Sigurd’s expression, her smile drooping slightly. “Or is that what makes you worry?”
“No, not quite… My concern is that she has more of a resemblance to Lumera,” Sigurd admits. Camilla does not seem to understand, so he continues. “The first war against Sombron changed her. It was once a regular occurrence for Divine Dragons to visit various places throughout Elyos to meet their followers and bestow gifts. After the war, Lumera chose not to do so. She may have had stewards and attendants, but her connection to the world steadily declined.”
“She pulled away from everyone in her loss. Lady Nel did the same. I wonder… Alear… my Alear, that is. When she faced Sombron…”
Camilla’s expression turns pensive and sad.
“I hope it doesn’t run in the family,” she says with a sigh.