Note: Soooo I have a ton of Magvel snippets lying around on Tumblr and such and I just wanted to gather all my writings together into one place. I get really antsy otherwise. Indulge me.
This one was a little giftlet for merewiowing, because busy weeks + femslash feb = pretty ladies visiting each other after devastating wars to re-grow together.
Chapter One - Beloved Daughters
"Tell me of your father."
It's not a request. L'Arachel has scarcely begun her tour of Castle Renais but now she plants herself, slim and hard as a young oak, in her tracks. Eirika follows her gaze to the painting of King Fado astride his destrier, gilded sword at his hip and spotted hounds at his feet. Long before his death, he'd taken his place with his forefathers in the great hall. L'Arachel stares at his hands on the reins while her own fingers curl into her pale skirts.
Eirika pauses to collect her thoughts. The memories are still painful, little stones rolling under her heart each time it tries to step forward. She could say that Father was very tall, a splendid horseman, a lover of lively music and dance. But that isn't what L'Arachel wants to know.
"He taught me to ride," she says, "and he took Ephraim hunting every summer. Whenever he went into the city, he returned with sweets for me. Every night, he came to my rooms to tell me goodnight and wish me sweet dreams, no matter how busy he was. I remember sitting on his knee in the throne room when I was very small. And I remember…" A smile comes to her lips for the little gestures so easily forgotten, but her voice wavers. "He used to kiss my hands whenever I did well in my studies or otherwise pleased him. As if I were his ruler and queen, rather than he my father and king."
"Enough."
"Forgive me," she says quickly. L'Arachel doesn't even have the memories. "I've said too much."
"No." L'Arachel sounds hushed, shocked, though her eyes are still locked on Fado. "Forgive me. I didn't even bother to ask if you were ready to speak of him."
"It seems that I am."
Eirika moves closer, arm nearly brushing L'Arachel's as she studies the painting alongside her. The silence, first nervous and sharp-edged, fades to comfortable nothing. She reaches for L'Arachel's hand and laces their fingers with slow deliberation.
"He would have loved you very much," she says.
For once, L'Arachel is silent. She lifts their joined hands and holds the back of Eirika's against her cheek for a long moment. It's soft and smooth and cool and Eirika shifts to touch with her palm instead.
"Well," L'Arachel says, finally. Something of her unconquerable smile is back in her eyes. "Of course. How could he not love me? I am as lovable as they come. Now, then, did I not come all this way to enjoy my tour of Renais's historic castle? Let's not loiter."
Eirika smiles too and does not release L'Arachel's hand as she guides her onward.