Who ever knew that one little letter could bring so much happiness?
The letter itself was beaten, torn and weather worn. Upon first seeing it, on the silver tray the butler extended to her all Amelia had hoped from it was legibility. What she got was so much more.
There was only one line written in that familiar bold script; so unlike her own neat copperplate writing but equally beautiful –and as far as she was concerned the comparison applied to themselves as well, unlike, but both beautiful. Others would argue his physique, but Amelia had long moved passed that.
I've found it. I'm coming back.
Somewhere at the back of her mind, the part of her that worried over everyone close to her whether they or she were deliriously happy or not, commented that he must be tired as, infuriatingly (almost unjustly) infrequent as they were, the letters were usually so much more detailed.
The rest of her couldn't care less; the day's paperwork flew out the window (figuratively) as she set to working out a calendar to mark down the time until she could reasonably expect his arrival. And then set the servants into such a fluster getting prepared that her Uncle Christopher –drawn from his own study by the commotion, was forced to take over before she exhausted herself; what would her Father think?
"Daddy will understand" she replied, but hugged her Uncle nonetheless, grateful for the support. Phil, of course, understood perfectly when he later discovered the fuss she'd caused. (Lina, of course, would have been proud that her first thought had been to start preparing a feast –Gourry too for that matter.)
The days trickled by, and Amelia awoke each morning sure that today was the day and went to bed each night content that he was another day closer. Her prayers in the temple were no longer for safe travels and protection (Not in THAT quarter anyway, Lina probably didn't put much stock in prayer and prophecy –even after Darkstar- but would be offended if Amelia left her out) instead they were prayers of praise and thanksgiving. She knew he was well and coming back, which was so much better than the faith.
The morning arrived and there was nothing special about it. Dust motes swirled lazily in the morning light as she began her days work occasionally dropping her quill to take a sip of the tea perched perilously close to the edge of her desk –forced there by the sheer amount of paper (years later, and she was still shuffling finances around to pay for that one tower –never mind what had happened to the city the year after)- when she first heard the commotion by the gates.
She dismissed it at first, it was certainly not the first time she had thought she heard his arrival. But, the sounds drew closer, louder, clearer and suddenly she knew. That day's paperwork went straight out the window (figuratively) as well as she rushed from her study, bypassing the stairs in favour of levitation, and to the grand doors in what was an unparalleled display of speed.
And there he was. Alive, intact, in full possession of his faculties (or what was left of them, after all those adventures) and smiling at her.
Without thinking (because she knew he'd catch her, even if he broke his neck doing it), without caring who saw (because that was who she was -and he understood that better than anyone) and only vaguely comprehending that he had been travelling for a week without rest and really, really, needed a bath, she launched herself at him with a cry.
Anyone in the general vicinity of the city was left in no doubt of exactly how deliriously happy she was as the name, the title, the endearment left her with enough force to travel on every possible plane of existence in a good five-mile radius (Xellos, wisely, decided that was a good day to be exploring the other side of the world). The servants who had gathered let out a cheer as, indeed, he caught her and returned the embrace mindful of his own crushing strength (ignoring the effect she was having on his ribs). At last the words she had longed to say since the letter arrived were given voice and the reply she longed to hear returned;
"Welcome home, Daddy"
"Glad to be back, Daughter"