Yesterday
Title: Yesterday
Game: FE9/10
Warnings: slight spoilers for the end of RD.
The music arched. Geoffrey swung her out into a pirouette. She twirled back into his chest. The scent of her hair--almost like morning glories--rushed to greet him.
Time to change partners. He was slow to release her. The Queen’s ungloved hands were silken, softer than the finest textiles from Begnion. Her padded fingertips stoked his coarser skin, the nails lightly scratching him as he swirled to her next partner. Daein’s maiden queen placed her thin hand in his; it wasn’t soft like Elincia’s. There were callouses on her finger pads. A looping mark on the top of her right. Elincia has a freckle on hers, between first and middle fingers. It itches when she looks at it.
“Good evening, General.” He managed a smile, but his eyes were elsewhere. She smiled warmly at Prince Rafiel, like she does at everyone. How did she get to the other side of the ballroom already?
“General?” Micaiah’s voice broke him of his thoughts.
“Your Majesty?” The words were rough against his tongue; she was not royalty in his eyes. She was a peasant queen with calloused fingers. He towered over her; Micaiah was so small compared to him. Geoffrey held her very lightly, afraid of accidently breaking her. He placed is hand on her back, shielding her from the other dancers, while still keeping proper form. He avoided looking at her; those piercing golden eyes felt haunting, like she could see right through him.
“I can still hear you.” Micaiah smiled, more amused than angry. “You should be honest with Her Majesty. I can feel her warmth from here.” His brows furrowed and when the music changed and she spun on to her next partner. Geoffrey searched the room for Elincia, but she was gone.
***
Another dance. Then another and another. Everyone wanted to dance with the Queen. Three minutes to pitch ideas, hint at alliances, trades, offers, plans, laws, blah blah blah. She was tired. Elincia lived in the limelight of royalty, and she had her very own stage to dance on. She smiled and bowed her way to an exit, to someplace quiet when she heard her name again. Elincia’s queenly stage was large and grand and had no exits.
***
The strap of her gown had slipped off her shoulder. The scar it hid was fierce and red and angry and-- He looked away. Elincia sat with her back to him. Her garden smelled sweet and delicate, like if he breathed too deep he’d somehow offend the air.
“I needed a breath, I’m fine Geoffrey.” Elincia pulled her hands into her lap, still turned away from him. He came to face her, and she kept her head down. Another scar trailed beneath her collarbone, the same ugly shape as the other. His throat closed.
Her pale yellow gown dipped in the front, forming a “V” right at her heart. A single white pearl hung on a silver chain rested in the center of her chest. He took in the lines of her body; Elincia had grown so thin since the war. Her neck and shoulders were too thin, her arms like twigs he could snap in his fingers. Her hollowed cheeks were red from dancing and the wind but she was still beautiful.
The morning glories had closed in the evening air. All of her favorites bloomed when the sun rose. She spent her free moments here, would watch the sun rise or fall when time and energy permitted. Elincia and Lucia played dress up as children here; fake balls to attend, make believe dragons to be slain, and Geoffrey was always her hero. His wooden, tree branch lance and bucket helm were just as dashing as his full suit of armor now.
The Queen’s face was flushed from dancing, sweat made her hair stick to her forehead.
“Remember when we were children? Remember how silly you looked with your mare’s pail on your head?” She laughed at her words, and pulled the pins in her hair to let the bun tumble down. Geoffrey wanted to run his fingers in it like he would when it would storm. Elincia hated the lightning. The life in her eyes was there again; the shine and glimmer that was so long ago lost.
“I seem to remember a pudgy cheeked princess with a knack for falling out of trees as well…” he teasingly looked up at the sky.
“Pudgy!”
“Elincia, you kept your baby fat until the war.” She knocked him the arm, a light tap and lighter laugh.
“I wasn’t pudgy.” This time the tickle in him made Geoffrey chuckle too. Elincia walked behind a tree, peeking around. The years faded from her face, and he saw the child she still was, pudgy cheeks and pigtails. Princess tails, as she liked to call them.
“Do you miss those days, Elincia?” He did. He missed when their imaginations were the scariest thing to threaten her.
“Everyday.” The glint in her eyes dimmed. “Sometimes I pretend… well, it doesn’t much matter.”
“No, what do you dream of?”
“Sometimes, for just the faintest second, I pretend that I died in the war.”
“Elincia…”
“It’s terrible, I know.” She shifted and he wondered if he should reach to comfort her. The thick, red mark on her showed just how close her wish came. There was so much blood, her blood, everywhere, pooling in sticky circles everywhere. They were both silent. Geoffrey dismissed the images and tried for a change of topic.
“You should wear your hair in Princess tails again.”
“Stars above, I had forgotten those!” She stood beside him now, close enough for Geoffrey to feel the heat of her skin. Elincia leaned her head on him. “...I never wanted to be queen.”
“I know.” The light was gone in her eyes. “Why don’t you take a day off?” She scoffed. He knew it was impossible, silly even, but the exasperated cocked eyebrow on her face was worth it.
“A day off? Geoffrey, I don’t just take holidays.”
“Why not? You are the Queen.” She blinked at him. “Spend a day with me.”
“What…?”
“Just… one.” His voice trailed off. He wanted a day of hers. A full day without the Court demanding her to make decisions, listen to debates, reign over them. He wanted a day of yesterday.
The weak smile she wore during the war was back; Elincia patted his chest. “Maybe… tomorrow.”
Game: FE9/10
Warnings: slight spoilers for the end of RD.
The music arched. Geoffrey swung her out into a pirouette. She twirled back into his chest. The scent of her hair--almost like morning glories--rushed to greet him.
Time to change partners. He was slow to release her. The Queen’s ungloved hands were silken, softer than the finest textiles from Begnion. Her padded fingertips stoked his coarser skin, the nails lightly scratching him as he swirled to her next partner. Daein’s maiden queen placed her thin hand in his; it wasn’t soft like Elincia’s. There were callouses on her finger pads. A looping mark on the top of her right. Elincia has a freckle on hers, between first and middle fingers. It itches when she looks at it.
“Good evening, General.” He managed a smile, but his eyes were elsewhere. She smiled warmly at Prince Rafiel, like she does at everyone. How did she get to the other side of the ballroom already?
“General?” Micaiah’s voice broke him of his thoughts.
“Your Majesty?” The words were rough against his tongue; she was not royalty in his eyes. She was a peasant queen with calloused fingers. He towered over her; Micaiah was so small compared to him. Geoffrey held her very lightly, afraid of accidently breaking her. He placed is hand on her back, shielding her from the other dancers, while still keeping proper form. He avoided looking at her; those piercing golden eyes felt haunting, like she could see right through him.
“I can still hear you.” Micaiah smiled, more amused than angry. “You should be honest with Her Majesty. I can feel her warmth from here.” His brows furrowed and when the music changed and she spun on to her next partner. Geoffrey searched the room for Elincia, but she was gone.
***
Another dance. Then another and another. Everyone wanted to dance with the Queen. Three minutes to pitch ideas, hint at alliances, trades, offers, plans, laws, blah blah blah. She was tired. Elincia lived in the limelight of royalty, and she had her very own stage to dance on. She smiled and bowed her way to an exit, to someplace quiet when she heard her name again. Elincia’s queenly stage was large and grand and had no exits.
***
The strap of her gown had slipped off her shoulder. The scar it hid was fierce and red and angry and-- He looked away. Elincia sat with her back to him. Her garden smelled sweet and delicate, like if he breathed too deep he’d somehow offend the air.
“I needed a breath, I’m fine Geoffrey.” Elincia pulled her hands into her lap, still turned away from him. He came to face her, and she kept her head down. Another scar trailed beneath her collarbone, the same ugly shape as the other. His throat closed.
Her pale yellow gown dipped in the front, forming a “V” right at her heart. A single white pearl hung on a silver chain rested in the center of her chest. He took in the lines of her body; Elincia had grown so thin since the war. Her neck and shoulders were too thin, her arms like twigs he could snap in his fingers. Her hollowed cheeks were red from dancing and the wind but she was still beautiful.
The morning glories had closed in the evening air. All of her favorites bloomed when the sun rose. She spent her free moments here, would watch the sun rise or fall when time and energy permitted. Elincia and Lucia played dress up as children here; fake balls to attend, make believe dragons to be slain, and Geoffrey was always her hero. His wooden, tree branch lance and bucket helm were just as dashing as his full suit of armor now.
The Queen’s face was flushed from dancing, sweat made her hair stick to her forehead.
“Remember when we were children? Remember how silly you looked with your mare’s pail on your head?” She laughed at her words, and pulled the pins in her hair to let the bun tumble down. Geoffrey wanted to run his fingers in it like he would when it would storm. Elincia hated the lightning. The life in her eyes was there again; the shine and glimmer that was so long ago lost.
“I seem to remember a pudgy cheeked princess with a knack for falling out of trees as well…” he teasingly looked up at the sky.
“Pudgy!”
“Elincia, you kept your baby fat until the war.” She knocked him the arm, a light tap and lighter laugh.
“I wasn’t pudgy.” This time the tickle in him made Geoffrey chuckle too. Elincia walked behind a tree, peeking around. The years faded from her face, and he saw the child she still was, pudgy cheeks and pigtails. Princess tails, as she liked to call them.
“Do you miss those days, Elincia?” He did. He missed when their imaginations were the scariest thing to threaten her.
“Everyday.” The glint in her eyes dimmed. “Sometimes I pretend… well, it doesn’t much matter.”
“No, what do you dream of?”
“Sometimes, for just the faintest second, I pretend that I died in the war.”
“Elincia…”
“It’s terrible, I know.” She shifted and he wondered if he should reach to comfort her. The thick, red mark on her showed just how close her wish came. There was so much blood, her blood, everywhere, pooling in sticky circles everywhere. They were both silent. Geoffrey dismissed the images and tried for a change of topic.
“You should wear your hair in Princess tails again.”
“Stars above, I had forgotten those!” She stood beside him now, close enough for Geoffrey to feel the heat of her skin. Elincia leaned her head on him. “...I never wanted to be queen.”
“I know.” The light was gone in her eyes. “Why don’t you take a day off?” She scoffed. He knew it was impossible, silly even, but the exasperated cocked eyebrow on her face was worth it.
“A day off? Geoffrey, I don’t just take holidays.”
“Why not? You are the Queen.” She blinked at him. “Spend a day with me.”
“What…?”
“Just… one.” His voice trailed off. He wanted a day of hers. A full day without the Court demanding her to make decisions, listen to debates, reign over them. He wanted a day of yesterday.
The weak smile she wore during the war was back; Elincia patted his chest. “Maybe… tomorrow.”