It's been a while... I actually planned to have this finished three weeks ago... But in the end I finished it, that's what matters.
Just to get it out there: I do not intend, nor have I intended at any given point in time, to include a lemon scene in this story. I'm sorry to disappoint, but just because it's rated M, does not mean it includes a lemon scene. Yes, you are allowed to be mad at me, but this isn't a romance story, perhaps that's how you see it, you might even think you see possible relationships (which amazes me, do tell me where you imagine this to happen), but that's not how I see it. (If you really insist I might [might, and most likely not very soon] write a romance story with Ike and an OC, but that's not going to happen in this one)
My apologies for being rude, but that's just how I feel about it. Deal with it however you want.
Now to other reviewers (even though I said I wouldn't answer questions... Never mind that now):
To Deflow: I like the idea. I looked up a little, read a little and imagined a little and I can see this setting. It's a good story element and I think it can be expanded nicely to an overall idea. I'm thinking a one shot (as I already have some trouble with keeping up this story only), a long one though. Haven't really been able to think of a storyline however. Do you have a certain preference for what happens in the story? I'm talking about anything at all: pairings, ratings, enemies, etc. A detailed story line is fine too, of course. If not, I'll think of something, no worries.
To hf: Good news and bad news on your challenge. I've managed to get my hands on a copy of Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance. I borrowed it from a friend before, but he needed it back pretty quick... The bad news is my shortage of time (still...). I'm at chapter 10 right now, so there's a long road ahead.
Since I'm rambling already, I'll just say something that I don't really say often:
I'm really glad this story is being read. I'm even more glad that I've got readers that don't necessarily just like something or not, but also think (even if it's just a tiny bit) about this story.
I once stated before that I'm having a hard time and have trouble working on my stories. I'm still going through it and it doesn't seem like it will end very soon. Yes, you might think I'm just bitching. Feel free to believe that it's just some sort of 'teenage drama.' But let me just say that it's not that, whether or not you believe it is up to you.
To the people who still appreciate the story thus far, I'm glad to have you as a reader, I can't say it often enough. I hope you can bear with this rambling (I hope not to make a habit of it) and the speed at which I update. I hope this chapter is to your liking.
The room was completely dark. Not even a tiny ray of light made it's way through a crease in the doorframe. It was as if the door had been designed to be jammed in the doorframe, all for the sake of creating a complete absence of light. Even when Ike's eyes had become more accustomed to the darkness, there was still nothing he could see.
There was, however, no silence to complete the absence of light. He could still hear footsteps come to a halt behind the door and murmuring beyond the door. Ike held still and didn't dare to breathe. Although it was obvious where he must've gone to, the Protectors seemed reluctant to actually enter the room. There murmurs meant nothing to Ike, either being to weakened to make out or spoken in a language unknown to Ike.
The murmuring stopped soon, although it might as well have been hours for Ike, and, although there was no actual way to confirm this, Ike was sure that they had retreated. The silence, however, was still not complete. Ike could, quite clearly hear the dripping of water drops echo in the distance. The black space became endless in his eyes.
Ike slowly backed away from the door, too scared to let it out of his sight and also too afraid of staying near it to long. He felt his back connect with what felt like ice-cold metal pillars. For a moment he stood still, suspecting something to happen. Then he let his hands touch one of the pillars.
Although they had felt big and grotesque, they were actually thin, stretching from floor to ceiling, although that was not something Ike could tell in the darkness and many of them were lined up next to each other, blocking off the path to whatever lay beyond them.
Ike realised they were not instruments of doom, as they had seemed for a moment in his mind, but merely a set of bars, like the ones keeping animals inside their cages. He let himself slide down against them, sitting on the ground with his back propped up against them. They were not as cold as they had seemed at first, most certainly now that he was sitting against them and they slowly warmed, but had merely been chilled by the air in the room, which was not as warm as the rooms above ground, as to be expected.
For a moment Ike sat like that, trying to form a plan in his mind. Since the path ahead of him was now blocked off, he would either need a way to get past them or figure out an escape plan to pass by the Protectors and the guards.
What most people who were not in Ike's situation would've thought of after finding a set of bars in such a place was that their purpose was to keep something from getting out, instead of preventing someone from going on further. This though didn't cross Ike's mind, which was focused rather on an escape plan than on looking out for new threats, until a hand clasped over both his nose and mouth out of nowhere.
The moment that happened Ike jolted forward, but although having escaped from the immediate threat, the hand had caught one of his arms and pulled it hard, so that Ike could feel how he was almost slammed against the iron bars.
The attacker had now lost his element of surprise and Ike, now having realised that there was little strength in the arm, pulled back and he could hear someone's head collide with the metal bars. Although not letting out a sound, the attacker let go of Ike's hand, causing Ike to fall backwards, but at the same time also allowing him to stumble out of the attackers range.
Ike, now breathing heavily, demanded: "Who's there?"
The attacker remained silent, although Ike could hear the slight noise made by someone sitting up.
Ike repeated: "Who's there?"
For a moment: nothing. Ike counted the sound of three water drops falling before he could hear someone breathing, almost silently, but no answer came.
"Tell me who you are," he said.
In the silence that followed a hand behind the bars started glowing in the dark and flames out of nowhere licked the skin. They crawled across the veins, following them and becoming larger towards the fingertips, from which they travelled up into the air, but they did not appear to burn the person, as if they were coming from inside the person, instead of some outer source of magic.
For a moment Ike could only stare at the flames.
"You…"
He had recognised the face of the person behind the bars, although he had never seen it up close, nor would he ever have suspected to see it up close.
It was very different from what he would have imagined her face to be and yet differed not from his imagination. It was a serious face, not stern, but rather prideful and yet not arrogant at the same time. What struck him as most remarkable feature was a long scar, left by a deep and precise wound, vertically across of her right eye. It stretched a bit over her cheek and eyebrow. In the strange red and dim light coming from the flames, Ike could see that her eye was lighter of colour, presumably due to the scar, as opposed to her other eye, which was darker of colour, although Ike would not be able to identify it as a certain colour without having any doubts left.
She seemed not to be thrown off by Ike's staring at her face, instead using the opportunity to study him in return. She cocked her head a bit from side to side as it rested on the wall behind her.
Ike felt strangely comfortable with her presence, now that he knew to whom the voice belonged, although it could also be blamed on the fact that now he could see, even if it was for just a bit.
He could now see the room, which was no different from any other cell at first notice. It was not as large as the echoing of drops had let it seemed to be, and existed of two parts, one being the actual cell itself. And Ike could see the writing.
It was scrambled across every piece of stone that could be reached, extending beyond the bars as far as the arm of one would allow to extend beyond it's man defined boundaries. Not an inch was spared and every creasy on every surface was covered by the large intricate pattern of an ancient language, made of dark, long dried liquid. He could taste the blood that had been spilled on his tongue.
"What… is this?" Ike brought out as he let himself slowly slump to the ground.
She looked at him again.
"What does it all mean?" Ike mumbled, more to himself than to her.
"If I tell you my name, you must tell me yours." He tried to reason with her. When she didn't reply and seemed more interest in some point on the wall to the left of him he continued, "That is common courtesy."
She didn't respond verbally, but let she let the flames on her hand die out and had the darkness return upon them.
"Why did you do that?"
They remained silent. Ike felt increasingly more uncomfortable in his surroundings. The darkness was not bad, but the cold temperature and the maddening sound of drops falling made it unbearable.
"Could you please light that fire?" he asked.
She lit them again and had it become fiercer than the ones before, but she also extended her hand towards him, her palm facing him and positioned in some sort of claw like pose, as if she was ready to use this power of hers for other purposes than lighting the room.
"Thank you," Ike mumbled.
He noticed that she sat slumped against the wall, so that one of her lower arms could rest upon the floor. It was just lying there in an odd angle. Ike realised that that must've been the reason why she, at first only attacked him with one arm. She indeed did not look like someone with a lot of physical strength, at least not the kind or amount that was needed when trying to overpower someone. She looked small, almost childlike.
"You're not out to kill me are you?" Ike said to her. She looked at her arm, in thought.
"You should set that arm if you want to use it properly again some day," he commented. She, almost naturally, didn't respond, but Ike started to look around them for something he could use. He saw nothing but stonewalls and the door, which seemed to have had multiple deep scratches similar to the kind Ike had seen in tree trunks after Sothe or Volke had practised knife throwing, but no knife itself.
There appeared to be an old table standing in the corner, with nothing on it. There was no chair anywhere he could spot. The cell of the girl appeared empty, safe for herself. She seemed uninterested in anything Ike was doing and was staring at the ceiling with an empty gaze. She closed her eyes from time to time and then she seemed to breathe in and out a few times, before she continued to stare at the ceiling.
Ike in a moment of anger, but it might also have been a genius idea of that slit second, kicked the table in the corner. The old thing immediately collapsed. One of its legs rolled towards Ike. He picked it up and grasped it with two hands. It was sturdy when he tried to break it and it did not easily break, but, bit by bit, splinter by splinter, it broke. Although far from either perfect or comfortable, one of the, now two, pieces appeared to have somewhat of a right length.
"Hey," he said, "Come, let me try to set it for you." She responded to the extend of looking at him with a sceptical look in her eyes.
"You might have no reasons to trust me," he began, seeing if this line of logic would be the thing to convince her, "but you also have no reasons not to."
She looked at him, before she rose to her feet, without any support from her arms and walked over to the bars, where she sat down immediately. She moved cautious and with a certain awareness as to how she carried herself. Ike caught something that looked like a ring or two in her ears shimmer in the light. He spotted a bangle around her foot that shimmered in the same way in the light. She sat down and looked at him.
Ike walked over to her and sat down, although he moved more cautious then he intended.
She did not seem unnerved of how close they must've been, had there been no bars between them. She extended her broken arm. Up close it appeared to have already been put in a somewhat straighter position. Ike grabbed it although he was careful of how much force he used.
"This might hurt," he said, although he did not doubt that she was aware of that. He had never done this before and tried to do it as good as he could, but he tried to pressure the bones in the right position.
The first thing he noticed was that it was he who felt a sharp pain in his arm. She had dug her nails in his arm, probably as a signal that he was hurting her too much.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I actually have no experience with setting bones. Rhys used to do that and I saw him doing it a few times, but I never actually had to do it myself." Ike had expected her to retract her arm, but she still kept it extended to him.
"Well, if you want…" he returned to silence trying to decide if it would be wise to try again. "I'll put this against your arm, but I think it'd be better if you'd get it set as soon as possible by someone who can do it properly."
Ike held the piece of wood against her arm. "Do you…" he began his sentence. He had seen that she had some sort of scarf or shawl tied around her hips and was hoping she would give it to him to use for wrapping her arm.
She either didn't catch on, or didn't want to give it to him. For a moment Ike could only stare at his hands as he tried to think of something. Then he grabbed his mantle, this resulted into the piece of wood dropping on the floor, and started to rip it, as good as he could, in strokes. He did not think of how he would replace it when the time game to give it back, but that did no longer seem of any importance.
He began to wrap the piece of cloth to the broken arm, trying to make it strong and wrap them tightly together, but also trying not to cut of any blood flow to the arm. His first attempt had been too tight, or just at a sour spot, but she had immediately let flames crawl over her skin, in a reflex, he presumed, as they died out a moment later. They had been warm and emitting heat. They had even scorched some pieces of the improvised bandage. Ike had now fully reached the conclusion that they were in fact real flames, although he was still unsure as to what extend she was able to control them.
Seeing that she did not speak, Ike did. Although he merely talked about this and that, the main point of his rambling was either that he had been hurt when he once had fallen down a stone flight of stairs, or that he thought cells to be uncomfortable. He did not know why he was doing this, but he supposed that, aside from the darkness, hearing nothing but the sounds of drops hitting water was making him feel less sane by the minute.
"Done," he said when he thought it would be pointless to wrap her arm in any more shreds of mantle. He removed his hands from her arm, but almost immediately she, in turn, grabbed onto his arm. The flames on her hand had disappeared, allowing the darkness to return upon them, and he could still feel the lingering heat upon that hand, the other, on the contrary, was ice cold, even through the fabric.
Ike did not pull away as she glided with her fingers around his wrist. He felt frightened somewhere at the bottom of his stomach, but he told his mind that if she had trusted him, he should trust her. He tried to look at where her head was, but he could not discern her at all in the darkness. He wondered if she could see in the darkness, or if she could see well at all, assuming that her one eye must have been damaged pretty bad.
Suddenly he felt how a point rest upon his skin and he noticed that just her one hand remained to support his arm. It was not the point of a dagger, not even a very pointy one. The little Ike knew about daggers was that they were sharper than the one he was feeling on his skin. He thought he could identify it as a very thick needle. If he had known a bit more about throwing weapons, he might have realised that it was in fact something like a throwing dart.
He felt how the cold tip started to travel across his skin, leaving behind a cold trail, like a drop of water leaves behind a trail upon ones skin. Sometimes it disappeared, but quickly returned, almost as if she was drawing some kind of intricate pattern on his skin.
"What's your name?" If she wanted darkness instead of light, he would have sound instead of silence.
"I know you won't answer me, but I'm no good with silence in a situation like this. You don't really seem to have a problem with it though. I really wonder how you can cope with a situation like this in such a way. It must be a very hard thing to do. I know you won't tell me, but I really would like to know how you ended up here, and why you are taking part in that… how do you call it… ritual. You must be quite certain of yourself. And something must be keeping you from wanting to die.
"Lately I've actually started to wonder why I am still here in this country. I want to get my things back. I lost my sword, my mantle and my headband in the desert to something the people around here seem to call a desert dancer. My mantle and headband are very precious to me and I really didn't want to lose them but without my sword I just feel so helpless. I feel like I am worthless without it. Do you understand what I am saying?"
He could only feel how the iron pin left another trail of cold on his skin.
"I think you do, at least better than other people. People are formed by experience aren't they? How they behave and do… If you would put them through in different situations and experiences in their lives, they would've grown up to be different. So you must have been through things that made you like this in the end, right? There's a story behind everything.
"You must think I'm just rambling, right? Maybe you see the world differently than I do, but back at home, when I fought to keep everything from destruction or to end war, I've seen people change of heart when given the opportunity. Even the god- Sorry, I meant the goddess we believe in back at Tellius, yours is different I believe. People don't seem to like it when I speak of her as we do at home. But I saw her change too. She wished to turn every living thing into stone, but when she was reunited with another part of her she returned to her old self and we were no longer at any risk of being turned into stone.
"You don't believe in people like that, do you? You all seem to believe that a person can only be good or bad. I mean, I knocked over a market stall and they were planning to put me away immediately. I ran away when they told me to wait and that brought me here. Who knows what they plan to do when I step out of here? I can't stay here forever. In fact, the moment they come to get you, I won't have anywhere to hide either, will I?"
There still was not a single sign coming from her from which he could tell she agreed, disagreed or even understood what he was saying.
"I believe that anyone has it in them to be good."
At that statement she stopped the point upon the skin of his wrist, just above the veins and put pressure on it. Ike, scared, that she might actually go as far as to break the skin and make it so that he bled to death, retracted his arm. She let him and did not attempt to grab him.
A moment later it felt as if a small gust of air past him and he heard a small 'tud' behind him, the sound of something striking the wood of the door. Following the sound the door slowly creaked open. Ike immediately looked behind him and felt blinded by the light that shone through the door opening, outlining a silhouette in the doorway.
For a moment Ike was frightened, but when his eyes had accustomed to the light he saw, to his surprise, the queen standing there. She looked less shocked than him to see him there. Actually she appeared to be more cautious than surprised. She smiled lightly at Ike when she saw his confused face and nodded.
"It's okay," she said softly, "You've been cleared of any charges." She took a few small steps into the chamber, but stopped when she saw how close the girl was sitting to the bars, although she had actually scooted back a bit after she had let go of Ike's hand.
The queen appeared to swallow but nodded, hesitantly and almost unnoticeably, at the girl.
"Come," she said to Ike and motioned for him to follow her, "you have nothing to worry about anymore."
Ike, although his mind was still clouded with doubt, stood up and turned to the queen, but he couldn't help but look back over his shoulder one last time.
In this light he could more clearly see how worn down she was. Plucks of hair had started to fall from her high ponytail. Her white, knee-long sirwal – for those who not know, or do not know for certain, this is somewhat like harem pants – was covered dirt, just like most of herself. Her top was nothing but a band of fabric wrapped around her. She no longer looked prideful, merely let down and struggling to stand up, yet something in her was stronger than merely that. In the brighter light falling through the doorway, although not that much brighter, she appeared younger than Ike had thought her to be – he had guessed her age to be somewhere around his own.
The queen tried to politely urge him to come with her. She looked a tad unsettled, "Ike…"
Ike turned around a bit reluctant, "Ah, sorry…"
He stepped out of the doorway following her, but when he turned around the queen had already closed the door.
Ike followed the Queen in silence, who herself had made it, seemingly, her first priority to get out and away from the prison. She went up the stairs leading from the dungeon. On the floor with the table was the same Protector sitting that had interrogated Ike, by lack of a better word. He looked up at the Queen, who nodded at him. He bowed deeply, as far as that was possible – he was seated at the table again, scribbling in his book. He did not acknowledge Ike, who had suspected that.
Right when the Queen wanted to go up the next flight of stairs – she already had set her foot upon the first step – when she realised that, when walking up the stairs, a woman should never be the one to walk in front of a man. Ike, if he had ever heard this from anyone at all, was surprised when she told him to go first.
Ike could hear the prisoners mumble when they saw him and, especially, the Queen walk by. Not many people walked the stairs that were not guards or Protectors, and seeing Ike, who had been guided down to be imprisoned, was now walking towards freedom must've sparked some hope in them. They begged them to release them, that they didn't do anything wrong or didn't deserve this.
Only once did Ike lack the determination to keep looking straight ahead. He had heard a small, weak and raspy voice. It had begged to look at his judgement again. Not even for plainly freedom or forgiveness. Ike had turned his head. The Queen was still looking straight on, although she strained herself not to look at whatever was cowering in the shadows. Just past her, in the cell they had almost past, was the pitiable man that had danced first and would most likely be the first to dance that evening. He looked at Ike with pleading eyes. Ike pictured him as a poor farmer. The image of a hard working father with two small kids, perhaps even another one coming, popped up in Ike's head. He clenched his fists and then forced himself to walk on.
When Ike stood in the open air again he felt relieved, but also more burdened than before. The Queen seemed more composed than she was before. Telling from how nervous she had appeared before, she did not visit the prison often and preferred to avoid such occasions. Ike wanted to ask her why, as he could see it written on her face, but, seeing as to how fast her pace still remained, waited and when they entered the castle courtyard – a quite open place with more trees than flowers or trimmed bushes – she was the one to speak first.
Actually, she looked as if she wanted to say something, but then she closed her mouth and blinked a few times, before remaining silent for a moment, trying to find the words she was going to say. Ike followed her gaze to find that it actually rested on his arm.
Ike was shocked, but he had also somewhat expected it. When the girl had been trailing his arm with the metal pin, she had been drawing something onto his arm.
In a shade of red as close to black as it could be, two beasts appeared to have been frozen in the midst of battle on Ike's arm. In simple lines, which were never really straight, nor rounded, they stood still. Ike recognised the style as the style he had seen drawn or painted onto the items from the market stalls he had seen and similarly, he recognised the alphabet of the native language.
"What it is this?" He asked, not really to anyone in particular, but rather sure that the Queen knew the answer to it.
"It's… It's hard to explain. There's not really a word for this kind of art in this language," she said, cautious about the words she used, "but I believe they were often referred to as 'sleeves.' "
"Were?" Ike turned his arm around to try and picture the whole image in his mind. Not a single bit of space was left unused, and were the beast themselves did not take up any space, something that we would call 'action lines' were swirling around. Wherever those lines would be useless, there were large characters written.
"Ah, this field of art has lost significantly in popularity some ages ago and with it the artists. It is… was a holy practice only preformed on the first day of festivals and other days of importance. It's a pity, but the only ones who are still taught these techniques nowadays only do so from a religious point of view. Only a high priest would be able to do this."
Ike let the information sink in.
"So this is some sort of sacred symbol?"
The Queen nodded, although the way she now looked a head of herself showed that she wished to move to another subject.
"Yes, and that's why you mustn't wash it off."
"Really?" Ike felt the word escape from his mouth. It was not that he really cared much for fancy baths, but washing his hands – still a small basic, but good point of personal hygiene – would now prove difficult.
"Well, officially you mustn't. But I don't think anyone would trouble you if you would rather wash it off."
"I see…" Ike breathed in deeply before continuing with his question, "Do you… happen to know what is depicted here?" He extended his arm to her.
"Well, I think I might be able to guess which story is depicted here, but I couldn't say it with certainty. You'd be better off finding yourself a storyteller."
"A story… teller?" Ike mumbled.
"Yes, they're around quite a bit with the festival. I'm sure that if you'd ask one of the guards tomorrow, they'd be glad to take you to one. They're the only ones who might be able to interpret this accurately more or less."
Ike concluded in silence that the art of understanding this art was lost with its decreasing amount of creators.
The Queen moved on to say what she had wanted to say in the beginning, before they had landed onto this topic.
"Anastasia wishes to see you. She threw quite the tantrum when she heard you had gotten arrested."
"Ana-" Ike's mind made the connection a moment later, "Ah, of course. That's okay."
He realised he had forgotten to address the Queen properly, but when he opened his mouth to do so, she had already caught onto him.
"Don't worry," she smiled slightly, "There's no need for honorifics. Your speech does not show of any disdain and thus far your intentions, if not good, are not malicious at least."
Ike nodded a bit, not sure how to respond. When compared to her husband, she still kept a posture and way of doing and saying that revealed her status, although more in an elegant way than a bad or intimidating one, where her husband had laughed out loud and had seemed like he would've slapped Ike on the shoulder if he had been in such proximity to Ike.
"Anastasia is in the middle of her classes right now. Would you care for a cup of tea while we wait for her to finish?" she motioned to the castle.
"I believe you are familiar with Anastasia's teacher," she said when they had sat down.
Ike, who was busy trying to dig up some basic knowledge of etiquette, blinked a few times. "I am?"
"Yes, I believe he is the one who escorted you here from your place of arrival, the one called Magnus," she replied, with a somewhat surprised look on her face.
"He is her teacher? I knew he was a scholar, but he never mentioned anything about being a teacher." Ike imagined that it must be quite a hellish experience, listening to Magnus lectures, or better put: monologues, was already quite tiring, but having to listen to him day after day and being expected to learn from it must be beyond boredom.
"Well, he always mentions that he is a scholar, which he undoubtedly is, but that doesn't change the fact that he is also a teacher," she sipped her tea after she had spoken, telling form the look on her face, which was only there for a split second, it was still too hot.
"He must be quite good in his field of subject if he is teaching the princess," Ike said, trying to keep the conversation going.
"He is. I consider him the best thus far, but many disagree with me."
"Why?"
"Well, he is a relative new face. The earliest time I can remember hearing of him being in this country has to be no longer than five– No, four years ago. He has never studied at any institute know to this country or any other references. Many doubt him because he bears no title or ties to this country."
"Is he a foreigner, like me?" Ike asked.
"I personally believe he had to much knowledge of us and our believes to be a mere traveller from beyond our borders."
"When you said we, did you mean you, your family or…?"
"O, my apologies. It's a force of habit. I suppose it must be unclear to you, but I was talking about this country and it's people in general."
She sipped her tea again and this time it appeared to be of the right temperature. Ike looked at his own cup, which was a bit too frail looking to be used for anything beyond decoration, he decided to go for it, setting his slight dislike of tea aside, and downed the cup in one gulp.
He realised too late that, although drinkable by taking sips, the tea was still too hot to be poured straight down the throat – another thing that dawned onto Ike too late was that it must not be appropriate to drink like that – resulting in Ike gasping for a breath when he had swallowed all of the tea.
The Queen chuckled a bit, but made no further comment on it, except for offering Ike some more tea. Ike felt he could not refuse.
"Can I ask in which subject Magnus specializes?" He said, trying to restart the conversation.
"He has exquisite knowledge of our history and believes. Although I must admit that he also teaches Anastasia the basics of the theory to using magic."
"He is a mage?" Ike asked astonished. He had never thought of Magnus as a fighter – let alone a mage – if he thought about it a bit longer, he could picture Magnus as some sort of picky healer, who only heals himself, with a preference for staffs that poison of put to sleep and actually enough strength, or anger, held back inside him to actually do some significant damage with a staff.
"I do not think so, I have never seen him use any sort of magic at least," the queen said and the image of the world's first harmful priest disappeared from Ike's mind, "he seems to have studied the schools of magic well in theory and, upon Anastasia's insistence, we allowed him to guide her in her first steps towards becoming a magic user."
"What school of magic was she interested in learning?"
"She never actually asked for a specific school of magic and is first learning the basics to any of those, but my husband and I decided that we would see her use the school of light."
"That would fit well with her," Ike said, half out of honest thoughts, half out of politeness, since he thought of light mages as a bit more calm and collected than she seemed to him thus far.
For a moment Ike stared into his cup in silence, wondering whether it be a good subject to ask about or not.
"No that we're talking about magic…" he began, "Would it be alright if I asked something?"
"Of course," the Queen said, "ask away." She had to blink at herself for allowing that last small sentence to escape her lips.
"I'm just wondering but… who's-"
Right at that moment someone threw the door open and Anastasia came running up to them. She was followed by Shin, who mumbled something along the lines of running not being ladylike.
"Ike!" She all but yelled.
"Hey," Ike replied, slightly stunned by her sudden appearance, "You must be done with your classes?"
She was completely oblivious as to what Ike asked and continued to ramble on herself.
"I heard you got into a fight at the market and destroyed half of the stalls! How did you get into such trouble? And really? Half of the stalls? You must be really strong! I mean, I already knew you were strong, just look at you. And…" her attitude change from very energetic to almost disdainful when she noticed the drawing on Ike's arm, "Who did that?"
Before Ike could answer any of those questions, her mother was already scolding her.
"Anastasia, it's impolite to just ask such things out of the blue. A person cannot answer more than one question at a time. Sit down and ask again, I think Ike will calmly answer your questions if you behave properly."
Anastasia scowled for a moment, mostly directed at her mother. Ike decided not to say that he didn't care whether or not one stuck to the rules of etiquette. Anastasia turned to sit on the couch next to Ike, but was immediately tapped onto her shoulder by Shin, who quickly sat down next to Ike, while Anastasia scoffed again, which did not make her look cute or pretty – she was actually trying to look somewhat cute by pouting – and sat down on the chair next to the one her mother was sitting in.
"So…" she started, "What happened at the market?" She had her arms crossed in an attempt to look upset, but the way she tried to make her eyes look bigger by opening them a bit wider took that effect away.
"Uhm… well," Ike tried to start his sentence, "I didn't get into a fight actually and I only crashed into one market stall to begin with."
Anastasia almost looked disappointed. "But I'm sure I heard something about you running down the streets in some sort of frenzy…"
"Well, I did, kind of, and I might have pushed some people aside," Ike sounded apologetic and indeed felt quite burdened by the thought of disturbing people's daily routines in hindsight.
"But why did you feel the need to cause such a disturbance in the first place?" the Queen said, while handing Anastasia a small cup of tea.
"Well, actually I did not intend to cause a disturbance of any kind. It's just that… I saw someone I need to look for in the streets. At least I thought I saw him…"
"Really? You're looking for someone?" Anastasia said, "I'll help you searching tomorrow!"
"You've got classes tomorrow," her mother told her.
"But I've been studying real hard, I can take a day off. Right, Shin?"
The Protector took a moment before replying: "The classes scheduled for tomorrow are your first practical lessons in the use of magic, Princess. You have been asking for them for quite some time now, so I do not believe you are in any position to cancel them for such reasons."
Anastasia stuck her tongue out at Shin, "Stupid, you're supposed to agree with me!"
"I do not believe that is part of my duty," he replied calmly and Ike started to assume that arguments like this happened on a daily basis.
"Shin is right, Anastasia," the Queen added, "but perhaps if you try your best, you might have some spare time in the afternoon."
"Alright!" She clapped her hands together, "That's okay with you, right Ike?"
"Sure, I don't have anything better to do," Ike said. Anastasia looked at him as if he had insulted her gravely, although Ike did not take any notice of this.
"Might I ask something of you, Ike?" Shin said after a few moments of silence.
"Sure," Ike said, slightly unnerved.
"I've been wondering ever since I came in, but you've got quite a work of quality on that arm of yours."
Ike looked at his arm, "This?"
"Yes, that," Shin repeated back to him, with an undertone that most people use when explaining something to an annoying and bratty five year old. "Where did you get it? Or rather, who painted it onto your arm?"
Ike could feel everyone in the room looking at him. They must've all been wondering the same thing.
"I… You know, I just ran into someone," he mumbled.
