Asylum
I do not own Fire Emblem or any of its characters.
This takes place in between the War of Darkness and the War of Heroes- in other words, between FE11 and FE12.
There aren't any real spoilers, there are no pairings, and there's nothing overt to warn for. It's all in the gaps, so to speak.
Chapter One
"There it is! Can you see it?" Elice felt for a moment like a child once more as she caught a glimpse of gilded spires above a line of trees.
"Yes," said her brother, distraction evident from his tone as he struggled to keep his horse in line.
It must have seemed a nice idea to present Altea's prince and princess with a pair of matched mounts for this journey, but Marth always took a while to bond with horses, and the grey stallion had proved a handful. Elice, seated on a spirited but manageable mare, cast a sidelong glance at her brother. Marth had acquired an arsenal of improper words in recent years, and he was using a number of them under his breath- directed at the stallion, at its dam and sire, at the men who bred it, broke it, and shod it. He shouldn't have been saying those words, even quietly, and Elice shouldn't have found the sight so amusing, but she did; her laughter flew up to the summer sky and drowned out the sound of her brother's curses.
It was the sight of Chalfont House that made her so lighthearted, Elice decided as she bit her cheek to get control of herself again. Seventeen of her past twenty summers had been spent there, far from the high walls and high ceremony of Altea Castle.
Built of pale brick rather than ancient stone, it had been designed for the pleasure of their mother Queen Liza, and the building itself seemed to embody some of Liza's spirit, a place of air and sunlight. The front facade looked golden beneath the afternoon sun and the many, many windows sparkled like the waters of the fountain pool at the entrance. The royal standard of Altea flew from the highest cupola, a splash of green and white against the red tiles of the roof.
The castle was the seat of their father's power, but Chalfont was the refuge created by their mother's love. It might not be the same without her, but something of Liza might be in the breeze that carried the flag aloft, welcoming her children home.
-x-
Upon their arrival, Elice followed the palace steward on a tour of the house and grounds, opening the cabinets and peering in the closets just as her mother had done at the beginning of every stay. Necessity aside, it gave her a sense of peace to do so while she listed to the aging steward give his report of the status of the palace in his care. Augustus was little changed from the time she'd last seen him- his hair was a little more white, perhaps, but he seemed hale enough for a man approaching sixty.
"It gives me great relief to see how well you have managed these years past, Augustus."
Chalfont seemed to have been under some spell of preservation, as in fairy-stories. To walk on its unstained carpets and peer out its intact windows, to look again upon familiar wall-hangings and portraits, brought relief indeed to Elice. She had not expected anything so happy to meet her eyes.
"The chapel's still under construction, Your Highness. It didn't fare well in the troubles. But the rest of the house should be just as you remember it."
"It is fine, Augustus. You've all taken such care with this place..."
He smiled at her, just as he'd done when she was a little girl and she'd thanked him too much for doing what was merely his duty. Elice took note of the smile and decided to restrain herself; she'd been on the verge of grasping the old man's hand in gratitude.
Bella, the head cook, had also survived the "troubles," and she took the lead in escorting Elice through a tour of the gardens.
"And you can see, Princess, that all the trees your blessed mother planted survived, but one. Some young brute climbed the pink magnolia and cracked it in two, and there was no way of saving it."
Elice had loved that tree, had cherished the fragrance of its pale blossoms- so beautiful, so fragile that they bruised at a touch. But its loss was such a small thing compared to the survival of so much else. Around her now she saw the gnarled gingko whose leaves turned to gold in the autumn, the willow with unique curled leaves, the dwarf pomegranates that bore white-edged blossoms. When she saw the citrus that had been created for her mother, the one artfully grafted so that four kinds of fruit grew on a single tree, she had to quickly blink away tears.
Bella and Augustus both waited on her command.
"Princess, we've put lavender and balm in the rushes, just as you asked," Bella offered.
"Thank you," said Elice, having recovered her poise. "And I trust you've stocked up on linden flowers and wood betony?"
"Aye, and tincture of fresh oat, though it wasn't easy to come by." Bella's voice carried no hint of inquiry, but she scrutinized Elice with sharp dark eyes.
"Are there any more special instructions, Princess?"
"Not at present, Augustus. If something comes to mind, I will tell you at once."
-x-
Elice seated herself by her favorite window in the second-floor parlor, the one with a grand view of the crescent-shaped bay formed by the waters of the North Channel. The window itself didn't let in direct sunlight, but Elice liked the sensation of having the sea at her back. Chalfont was set too far inland to hear the waves upon the shore, but the shimmer of the blue-green water added greatly to the serenity of the little summer palace. She immersed herself in reading for the evening, to the point that Elice jumped a little in her seat when the double doors swung open. It was only her brother; no one else would enter without being either summoned or announced.
"Did you enjoy the bath?"
"I did. To the point where I nearly fell asleep in it." Marth brushed a lock of damp hair out of his eyes. It wanted trimming again in front, and Elice added that to her mental list of "special instructions" as she closed her book and set it down upon her lap with her hands clasped over it.
"You used to love to splash about in the water. Sometimes Mother would have to call a footman in to lift you out."
"I think I recall someone turning the water to ice once just to prove she'd learned a spell that was supposed to be beyond her," Marth replied, though the smile he showed her was faint, just a small upturn to the corners of his mouth.
"Ah, you did promise you'd never tell on me."
"I haven't. There's no one left to tell that might do anything about it." He sat opposite her, on the edge of a chair rather than properly settled back in it- another of the habits he'd acquired during their separation. "There's only the two of us."
"Yes, just the two of us." Elice's hands tightened upon the cover of the closed book. She watched her brother for several minutes as he stared out the window into the dark.
"We shouldn't be here," he said at last.
"The castle is not fit to inhabit." Restoration and reconstruction of the damages sustained during what Augustus termed "the troubles" had only begun once victory in Dolhr had been secured, and everything from the cellars to the towers needed a thorough cleansing.
"Half our people have homes not fit to inhabit, and they've nowhere to go while someone else cleans up the mess."
He'd made the argument before, when Elice first proposed spending some weeks at Chalfont; the very fact that they were sitting in that second-floor parlor spoke of the merits of that line of debate.
"Marth, did you see the looks upon the faces of our people here as we entered? Our subjects- your subjects- have been standing guard over this house for three long years, waiting for the day when you would come back to it. To deny them the fulfillment of their desire is to deny the value of their service."
Marth remained silent for a time; he gripped the sides of the chair in a pose that radiated discomfort. Then he bowed his head and the heavy strands of his bangs fell forward so that Elice could no longer see his eyes.
"You are right, sister," he said. "I am sorry for... for appearing not to value the service of people who have cared for us all our lives. I know there is more to service than just being willing to... to fight. It is just so very hard to balance everything at once."
Elice slid the book off her lap; she rose and crossed to where her brother sat, then placed her hand upon his shoulder. The tension through his body was so great that Marth's arm and shoulder felt like solid wood, or even stone, beneath her fingers.
"It's all right. We've had a long day of traveling and ought to rest. I'll ask Bella to send up some tea for us, yes?"
"Mm."
Under ordinary circumstances, she would have corrected him- sit up straight, don't pick at the wood of the chair, remember that you are to be Altea's king. But the day of coronation was a long way off for a boy not yet eighteen, and the rules were always a little relaxed at Chalfont House. Their mother had wanted it that way. Instead, Elice applied a gentle pressure to her brother's shoulder until he released his fierce grip upon the frame of the chair.
"Linden-flower tea, Princess?" Bella's daughter, the second of three, had come up with the tray.
"Set it there on the table, Constance."
The girl obeyed and retreated soundlessly into the shadows, leaving sister and brother alone. Eddies of steam from the tea cups rose into the air, like tiny ghosts.
End Chapter One