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It was the first Firenese masquerade ball in a decade.
The Queen Mother greeted the attendees at the entrance. Though masks hid most features of the guests' faces, Ève went maskless, her smile radiant as ever as she held her hands out to clasp each person as if they were extended family.
From an elevated platform, beneath the central stairs of the grand ballroom, sat the Firenese Queen. Though her face was obscured by a mask, decorated with gemstones in the shape of flowers, everyone knew it was Céline. Only royalty sat on the thrones in the ballroom, after all.
She watched as the room slowly filled. Bustling dresses, sharp suits, clinking glassware, the din of voices. People came from all over Elyos to attend this event, and behind her mask, her eyes roved across the sea of nobles and retainers, hoping to spot familiar colored hair or figures in the crowd.
For years, Firene had been in mourning. Alfred had passed, and the outpouring of love and grace from the rest of Elyos did little to mend Céline's shattered heart. Her ascension to the throne, the Vidame crown heavy on her brow, was difficult for her. The smiles she had for her people, the elegant waves and acceptances of their compassion wrapped around her like a blanket — and for every night since, Céline cried. She found solace in the strong arms of her lover, the Lady Consort Etie, who mourned her liege just the same.
Céline knew, however, that Alfred would be rolling in his grave and clawing his way through the dirt if she continued this performative isolationism.
"Want something to drink, Your Majesty?"
Céline's eye twitched, a minor blink behind her mask. "I'll still never be used to you calling me that," she murmured, her shoulders lowering as Etie leaned over her with a flute of fruity wine. "Even though you've done it for years."
Etie kept her mannerisms at minimu. There was a certain degree of leniency that she, Louis, and Chloé all got to experience as the Queen's closest friends, retainers, confidants, advisors, etcetera and so forth. Dressed in a tailored suit, colored her signature mint and soft orange, she leaned agains the side of the throne, hip brushing against Céline's hand. "Well, I have to show proper respect in public, you know." Behind her own mask, fashioned into the shape of the Lendabair bow, Etie smiled. It eased a small smile out of Céline as well. Holding the flute to her lips and inhaling the sweet scent of strawberry, she said, "Go mingle for me, would you?"
"Don't have to tell me twice." Though she was the Lady Consort, Etie was still terrible at sitting still. Dropping a kiss to the crown of the Queen's head, she swept her way from the throne, down a carpeted step, and then leaned back. She pivoted. "Wait. I almost forgot. The Divine One brought this for you."
Just like back on their wedding day, Etie held Céline's hand gingerly in her own. Though the gloves were thin and both women could feel each other's heat through the fabric, the gesture remained innocently intimate. Still, Céline thought back to that day, to see Alfred's openly joyful expression as she married the love of her life…
The Ring of the Caring Princess fit perfectly, as ever.
"Oh," she murmured, holding her hand aloft. The light of the chandeliers that hung all around glittered off the band and the red gemstone beautifully. Céline's eyes, burning behind her mask for one reason, pooled with tears for another. She cleared her throat, surreptitiously reaching up under her mask to wipe the stray tears. "The Divine One couldn't make it…?"
It was no surprise. It was not even an insult or affront to the pious Firenese name. Alear was busy as the Divine Dragon Monarch, and this was Céline's event. To attend would likely ruin all of the careful planning that went into the celebration of Firene, its Queen, Queen Mother, and the memory of beloved King Alfred.
This gesture was more than enough anyway.
Etie pulled Céline's hand back down, bowing over it to kiss her knuckles. "Okay. Now, I'm gonna go mingle for you." She pivoted again and gracefully, powerfully, swept down the remaining carpeted steps and into the throng of nobility. Stuffy gatherings like this were not Etie's thing, they never really had been, which made her willingness to attend and be Céline's eyes and ears all the more touching.
Depositing her flute of wine to the small table beside her, where the remains of some dishes and hors d'oeuvres were collecting in a small pile, Céline allowed herself a moment to sit back in the throne. It was not made for sitting in constantly, despite the upholstery behind replaced and restuffed before every event that required its appearance. Yet Céline was thankful for the discomfort, for she felt it was a perfect excuse for the melancholic frown on her face.
Just as she did back during the war, Céline took extra care with her Ring. She sensed a familiar warmth from wearing it, but knew it meant little — Diamant said the same as he wore Roy's on his middle finger, Ivy reporting the sweet smell of a grassy breeze when she wore Lyn's. At one point, Céline considered asking Etie if she felt anything while wearing Lucina's ring — and then thought better of it, for that ring had been Alfred's, and that was just another way to pull at the unsealing scab of his absence.
"A lot has happened, Lady Celica," she mused softly. Alear had recently polished the ring, she saw. It rotated on her finger so smoothly, the satin proving no match for the glossy finish. "The most important thing is that… I am Queen now."
In the days of the war, before Destinea and after Elusia Castle, Celica was kind enough to tell Céline of her companions. Her life. That she had a brother as well, whom she thought had died when they were young. How she felt knowing she would also ascend as Queen once her journey to and for Mila had completed. Her voice was a balm for a weary soul like Céline's, who abhorred the fighting they did across Elyos.
All in the name of peace, she always thought.
"Florra Port is rebuilt," she continued, crossing her legs at the ankle. "It took several years… a lot of volunteers from across Elyos, but…" She smiled at her reflection in the red gemstone. "The state that it is in… you would never be able to tell it was on the brink of smoldering ruin."
Céline had a feeling that would be one of the biggest things the Emblem would want to know. She had been wielded by Griss to set the town aflame and to kill innocents, completely contrary to everything she represented and the Goddess she faithfully followed. Although she never showed it, Celica likely felt guilt even as an Emblem, even purged of the Fell Dragon's power.
She chattered on, slowly enveloping herself in a time and place where she sat beneath a great tree and Emblem Celica hovered close by with her open expression and tender smile. She told the ring of her wedding to Etie, how small but grand it was and how Etie actually lost an archery match to the visiting Brodian delegate — who wasn't Alcryst, by the way. How she thought that Etie probably threw the matchup anyway so that she could hug her wife in front of everyone and cling to her and pout without feeling like the broke any rules. Céline could imagine Celica's fond laughter, and the story she might share about her and Alm in a similar fashion.
"This is the first time Firene has opened its borders since my brother…" Her voice faltered. She swore she felt a stronger warmth emanate from the ring; with her other hand, she reached for her now-warm flute of wine and tipped it back. Allowing the sweet scorch of alcohol to slide down her throat — tea was and always would be better — she cleared her throat and blinked the burn of tears away again.
This was also why she preferred tea. One of the many reasons — it didn't make her quite so emotional.
"I hope you would be proud of everything I have done," Céline murmured finally, folding her hands in her lap after placing the empty flute back with empty plates beside her. "Above all… welcome home, Celica."
Brushing her thumb against the ring, she exhaled softly, and recited beneath her breath a familiar prayer: Allow your soul the rest it deserves.