"Then one day, I fell head over heels for this princess. Love at first sight. Went as far as her castle to kidnap her, but this princess… She was my kind of woman. Except she bitched about not wanting to go to the hearth of some fame-less kid."
— Cú Chulainn, Fate/Hollow Ataraxia
Emer pulled her gold-trimmed cloak closer, sniffing when fur tickled her nose. Despite the coming spring, the dying throes of winter still tormented her with an ill-tempered breeze, pricking her skin. The wind still smelled of snow. The princess wondered if it warned of the weather to come.
"—Emer? Is something wrong?"
The voice, along with peals of laughter, drew her back from her thoughts. Beside her, her sister Fial looked at her with concern. "Oh, forgive me. I was lost in thought." Laughter persisted, although it had quieted to hushed giggling. Emer eyed the two women in front of her curiously. "What are they laughing about?"
Fial covered her mouth to suppress a giggle, "Órlaith was talking about how her husband made a fool out of himself at the last banquet. Drunk himself stupid in a contest."
"...Was it that bad?" A bead of sweat slipped down Emer's forehead. She hadn't attended the last banquet because of a fever.
"Apparently."
"Goodness…" Another gust of wind swept past the group, tearing at Emer's garments. Hunching her shoulders, she hugged her cloak closer to shield herself. The other ladies whined quietly about the cold that dared to disturb their afternoon stroll. A stray leaf had landed in Emer's turquoise hair, surprising her when she began to smooth out the glossy locks. Plucking it from her hair, she scanned the surrounding area and found a lone tree by the path.
"Are you cold?" Fial reached for her sister. "We can turn back now if you want."
Her eyes flickered to her friends. Their pouts were not lost on her, even if they would follow her wishes obediently. The harsh winter had kept them cooped up inside for too long.
I shouldn't be so demanding.
After all, a little brisk weather never killed anyone.
"No, not at all." But she gestured to the tree. "Let's sit for a moment though."
"Alright."
They all gathered beneath the mighty oak, shaded underneath its sprawling branches. The ladies brought wicker baskets along for the walk, and they set them down to the side. Inside the baskets were pastries wrapped delicately in cloth, and each lady fished one out, unwrapping them. They continued conversing as they nibbled on turnovers.
Emer leaned against the tree trunk, releasing a long, languid sigh.
Naturally, her sister joined her, tucking her feet underneath herself. "Do you want one?"
"No, but thank you," she said with a smile.
Fial shrugged. "If you say so." Biting her lip, she cast a wayward glance at the others.
Emer chuckled knowingly. "Go on now. I won't disappear."
Fial's pale eyes lit up with gratitude. "Thanks, Em!" The bright-haired girl joined the other ladies, plucking a turnover from a basket. Not a moment later, she was laughing boisterously.
Emer's smile grew, her warm gaze beholding her sister. While she found it cute Fial followed her around like a little duckling, it was even more adorable how her demeanor shifted when she was with others. Emer turned away, and her eyes fell shut. She listened to the ladies' laughter and the now gentle breeze rattling the tree branches above her.
She enjoyed the brief tranquility these strolls granted her. The weather could freeze her, and the weather could burn her, but all of it was better than suffocating in that castle. Emer frowned. When did the thought of home become so unbearable?
Lately, Father has…
A low rumbling thundered from the distance. Emer's eyes flashed open, bemused. Thunder? No, the sky is hardly overcast. So, what is…?
Rising to her feet, the princess stepped away from the shelter of barren branches and peered out into the road. She spied a cloud of dust several yards down, in the direction of the "thunder". Horses, no doubt.
"Ladies, move away from the path," she warned sternly.
Fial was the first to speak up, "Huh? Why's that?" Scrambling up, she looked at where her sister was looking.
"What do you see, Fial?"
The bright-haired woman squinted, wrinkling her nose. "I see…one—no, two horses—a gray one and a black one."
"What else?" prompted Emer.
"They're pulling a chariot—and I—yes, I'm sure of it—two men are riding that chariot!"
Emer nodded, smiling in approval. "As expected, your eyes are still sharper than a hawk's."
Fial rubbed the bottom of her nose, a mischievous smirk pulling up her lips.
Soon, the charioteers came upon the ladies. Their speed slowed considerably when Emer heard one of the men cry out. Ah. So, they are stopping. She smoothed her dress, combed her fingers through her hair, and adjusted her golden circlet. By the time the chariot came to a full stop, Emer had snuffed out her previous anxieties, and all that was left was a regal and stoic princess.
She gauged their attire and posture. From the swords dangling at their hips to the finely woven cloaks draping off their shoulders, she deduced they were warriors of high standing. One of the men hopped off the chariot. When his feet, clad in armored boots, collided with the ground, a small cloud of dust floated up. "Sir Knights," Emer spoke with clear and noble timbre, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"
The knight absently scratched the back of his neck, ruffling his scruffy, blue hair. Silver earrings glinted in the sun as he tilted his head. Combined with the small, bashful smile, Emer assumed he was embarrassed about something. "Maiden, would you tell me whose land this is?"
Oh, are they lost? Emer answered, "Why, this land belongs to Forgall Monach."
The blue knight smiled. "Ah, I see…" He turned to his companion—Emer thought she saw his smile widen to a cocksure grin—and said, "See? I told ya we were heading in the right direction, Láeg!"
The man named Láeg held his hands up in defeat.
Emer blinked stupidly. But, she steeled herself as he turned back around. "Do you seek his Lordship?" Fial twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, mouth a hard, wobbly line. Was she trying to hold back a laugh? The other ladies fared worse than her sister, openly giggling at the exchange.
"We seek shelter, maiden." The knight pushed his hair back. What smugness he had directed toward his companion had disappeared, only offering her a warm smile.
Emer's gaze flickered away. Staring into those warm eyes… "Well, Sir Knight, I will see to it that you are given shelter."
His eyes glimmered like gemstones. "Thanks." His eyebrows raised. "Where are my manners?" The knight pointed to himself, grinning proudly. "Name's Cú Chulainn. This here's Láeg." He threw his thumb over his shoulder to the other warrior. Láeg dipped his head in greeting.
Cú Chulainn. An odd name for a parent to give their child. Regardless, she bowed her head in return. "I see. Sir Cú Chulainn, Sir Láeg, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Emer, daughter of Forgall Monach. This is my sister, Fial." Instead of bowing her head, Fial twiddled her fingers at Cú Chulainn, a beaming smile splitting her face. Fial, please—
Cú's eyes widened with surprise. He suddenly laughed. "Oh, is that so? If I'd known that, I would've spoken to you properly, my lady!"
"It's quite alright, Sir Cú." Admittedly, she almost found his casualness refreshing.
Plip…
Huh? A cold droplet splashed against her forehead. She ran her palm across her brow, and a trace of water soaked into Emer's skin. Could it be—?
Cú clucked his tongue. Láeg observed the gray clouds and said, "Looks like rain's coming." At his observation, the ladies bewailed that their walk would be cut short. Still, they began to gather up their things, covering up the wicker baskets and dusting off their dresses. Emer stared up at the sky. Indeed, the cold winds had swiftly pushed rain clouds in, covering the once pale-blue sky.
Ah. I got distracted.
"Darn weather…" Fial mumbled under her breath. "I barely had time to stretch my legs!"
Emer arched an eyebrow, looking at her sister. "There will be another day, Fial."
"I knoooooow…"
"Guess that's our cue, too," Cú sighed as he stepped onto the chariot. Rubbing a hand over his face, he seemed to contemplate something.
A strong hand reached out for her. Blinking, Emer met his steady gaze.
"Need a ride, my lady?" he asked. Again, with that smile—
Emer took a half-step back. "I should walk back with my ladies, but thank you—"
"Aw, c'mon, Em!" Fial elbowed her sister's side. "This nice—handsome—man is offering you a ride back home. It'd be rude to forsake him so callously!"
Was 'handsome' a necessary thing to add…? "I can't just leave you all out here—"
Fial patted Emer's head. "Fear not, O dutiful sister. I assure thee, no fair maiden shall come to harm under mine watchful gaze." She added, "Think of it this way, Em. These lads need a guide back home and tottering along with all of us in tow will only slow them down." Surprisingly, the others chimed in agreement. Emer narrowed her eyes when some of them whispered.
What's that about?
Emer frowned. "I suppose you're right."
"Naturally." Fial moved away, but not before lightly pushing Emer toward Cú's outstretched hand. "Go on now!"
Emer looked back at Cú and Láeg. Láeg looked forward patiently, holding the leather reins expectantly, and Cú stretched his hand out further. Grimacing slightly, Emer tentatively took the knight's hand.
She squeezed between the two men—Láeg muttered an apology—and stared stiffly ahead. Although Fial's words had pushed her to accept the offer, Emer still felt guilty about leaving them behind. What if they got soaked in a downpour? What if—
"Sorry, my lady." Cú's arm reached behind her, and his hand gripped the chariot. Now, he securely encased her between him and his arm. "Wouldn't want you to fall off."
"Oh...of course."
"So, where to?"
Emer swallowed quietly. Her throat felt unbelievably dry. "Straight ahead."
Perhaps Fial's forwardness flustered me. With a sigh, she released the tension in her shoulders.
"Yah!" Láeg snapped the reins, and in response, the horses neighed and galloped forward. The sudden lurch nearly made Emer fall back, but Cú steadied her.
"Careful now!" he exclaimed.
Emer found her footing, gritting her teeth. To her horror, she felt the unmistakable warmth of a blush on her cheeks. How embarrassing…!
The cold air battered her face as they rode. Emer squinted, the chill stinging her eyes. Thankfully, only a sparse number of raindrops peppered her fair skin. When she glanced over her shoulder, she could still see a faint silhouette of a group behind them. Even if they ran, they wouldn't catch up.
"They'll be fine," commented Cú. "Your sister seems like the kinda lass who can fend for herself, m'lady."
"Even so," Emer said, "I don't like the fact we're leaving them behind."
Cú chuckled. "You care a lot for your sis, huh?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
"No reason." He faced ahead, that smile never leaving his face. "I think it's sweet, is all."
As Cú watched the road, Emer discreetly shifted her gaze to him, scrutinizing his youthful features. 'Handsome'? Perhaps there was some truth to Fial's remark. Not that it mattered much. Lots of men could be handsome. Even so, as she continued staring, Emer couldn't help but be drawn to Cú's eyes. The color was of blood, deep and red, and they shimmered like precious rubies, dazzling and bright. They held warmth she didn't often see.
Emer looked forward. You're an odd one.
Emer enjoyed the night. Unlike the day, haunted by responsibilities, the princess could relish in the peace the moonlight granted her. Lightly gnawing on her lip in thought, Emer carefully threaded a needle through a soft, white cloth, guiding a scarlet strand. Once her hand reached eye level, she dipped back down and inserted the needle back into the fabric, pushing it down with her thumb.
It wasn't the most original hobby—needlework. The ladies and her sister would often gather in the garden to sew. But she had honed her skills to the point where she considered herself adept. Fial's praise would surely make up for any insecurities she'd have anyway. Smiling at the thought, Emer lifted her canvas and examined it. While not her most intricate, the embroidery was beautifully simple—delicate vines weaving into knots patterned with tiny flower petals. Perhaps she would replicate it on another cloth and make a handkerchief for Fial. No doubt she would adore it.
Emer sighed. She listened to the cricket song, the melody disturbed by the occasional hoot of an owl. The air was pleasant, and the moon was full. How could she ignore such an opportunity to work outside in the garden? A few white moths flittered near her lantern, attracted by the warm glow. The flame cast elongated shadows across the grass. Shaking her head, Emer returned to embroidering the canvas.
"Hey."
Ouch! The needle pierced her fingertip. Emer hurriedly sucked on her finger, the faint taste of blood tainting her tongue.
She twisted in the direction of the voice, bemused—annoyed. Everyone should have been asleep. Who was here?
"A-Ah—I'm sorry. Did I startle you?"
Him?
She removed her finger from her mouth, narrowing her eyes. "Sir Cú," she murmured in disbelief. Her lips thinned. Louder this time, she said, "I…wasn't startled. I was merely…preoccupied. I didn't see you enter."
Cú clicked his tongue. "Ah." He stepped into the lantern light, brushing a hand through his hair. The shadows accented his features, and the light gleamed in his crimson eyes. "What're you doing up so late, my lady?"
"I could ask the same about you."
He snorted, amused. "Couldn't sleep. Bright out."
"I see. I will inform the servants to hang up thicker curtains…" Emer turned back to her needlework.
She heard the soft crunch of his boots as he walked across the grass. Nonchalantly, he plopped down next to Emer, bending one knee so he could rest his arm on it. He watched her silently.
A bead of sweat slipped down her cheek. Such an intense gaze."Is there something you need, Sir Cú?"
"Huh?" As he realized her question, Cú chuckled at himself, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry about that. I must've zoned out." Seeing his eyes shift around, Emer waited for him to speak again. "You're pretty good at this."
"Thank you."
"Are you making this for someone?"
She shook her head. "No. This is merely practice. Should I like the design, I'd replicate it."
"I'd say it's quality practice then, princess. But," Cú said, his lips quirking up, "if you're not planning on giving it away to anyone specific, I can take it off your hands."
"...Why?" And again with that smile.
"I like it," he replied. "I'd hate to have a woman's talents be wasted, whether she considers it 'practice' or not. And your handiwork is the best I've seen."
Her face flushed with warmth. It was different than what she felt when Fial or her foster sisters praised her. "You say such flattering words, Sir Cú." Looping the thread, Emer formed a knot and clipped the excess string with a pair of scissors. "I would think your tongue was made of honey with how sweet they are."
"...It's Cú."
"I beg your pardon?"
Cú unbent his knee and shifted around to face her fully. "It's just Cú."
"That's what I called you—"
"You don't need to act so formally with me, princess." He grinned with a wink. "Not really my style, you know? So, I'd prefer it if you referred to me as such—none of this 'Sir' business."
Emer's lips parted, unsure.
Cú's eyes softened. "It's just us here."
Huffing, she tucked a stray lock of hair back into place. "If that is what you wish, then I will oblige…Cú."
He laughed. "You have my thanks, but don't look so disgusted when you say my name."
Did I make a face?!
"I—I'm not disgusted. I just find it odd you would want to be addressed informally."
"Consider it one of my many flaws."
"...I suppose there are worse flaws to have." Emer smiled as she gingerly removed the linen cloth from the embroidery hoop. Placing the hoop aside, she smoothed the fabric out over her lap and studied it carefully. Indeed, her practice embroidery had turned out beautifully, its threads taut against the linen. "It would be wrong to not give my guest a parting gift. And since you asked…" Folding up the embroidered linen, Emer held it toward Cú. He took it, unfurled it, and raised it against the moon's light.
"It's lovely," Cú murmured.
She tucked a loose strand behind her ear. "Don't let my father see you have that. I'm…afraid you won't be able to keep it then."
A wistful sheen glazed over his eyes as they roamed around the embroidery. He sighed quietly, and he refolded the cloth as she had done. "Princess."
"Yes?" Emer arched an eyebrow. What caused his mood to shift like—?
"I want ya to marry me."
Emer blinked. Twice. Thrice. "You what."
Cú blinked. But, a confident grin soon upturned his lips. "You heard me," he teased, and he moved closer. His shoulder brushed against hers, and with his face unbearably close, hot breath danced across her cheek. "I want ya to marry me."
Blink.
Finally, his words clicked.
Emer reeled back, exclaiming, "H-How dare you?! What kind of statement is that?"
Tilting his head, Cú responded cheekily, "I believe folks 'round here call it a marriage proposal."
"That is not what I meant!" Emer snapped. Clearing her throat roughly, Emer touched her heart, and she exhaled slowly. Calm yourself. She looked pointedly at the blue knight. "That, Cú, is presumptuous of you."
"Then forgive my brashness again, princess—marry me."
She clambered to her feet, huffing in exasperation. I should have known better. "If you are so keen to marry someone, my sister finds you a handsome man. Ask her."
Cú stood up just as quickly, the embroidered cloth still clutched in his hand. "Your sister is a delight, don't get me wrong, but I don't want to marry her. I want to marry you."
"Don't be ridiculous! Do you think just because you're cute I'll accept your proposal?"
Cú's eyebrows rose to his hairline. Then a frighteningly devilish grin contorted his features. Wh-Wha? Emer flinched back, sweating nervously. "...So, you think I'm cute?"
Cold dread washed over Emer like a tidal wave.
I said that out loud?!
"Absolutely not!" she cried.
Yet Cú persisted: "Is that right? I seem to recall you staring at me pretty intently on the chariot ride. At the feast as well. In fact…" He stepped doggedly over the discarded embroidery hoop and approached Emer again, hands on his hips. She held her ground and glared at him suspiciously. He leaned down with squinted eyes, scanning her face. What could he be searching for? Satisfied, he smiled. "Yeah, on the chariot ride, you were blushing—just as ya are now."
Emer froze. Her hands shook. Slowly, one hand reached to touch her face, and unmistakable heat met her fingertips. Her cheeks flamed a deep red. Tucking the same hand underneath her hair, she felt her ear was hot to the touch as well. Horror plunged into her heart like a dagger.
Oh.
Oh, no.
"You arrogant—" She retreated, desperate to hide her face. At her side, her hands curled into tight fists. What was wrong with her?! How could she allow this brazen knight to get under her skin? Worst of all, she could hear soft laughter behind her.
Emer whipped around. His shoulders shook, and as his laughter grew louder, Cú threw his head back, grabbing his forehead.
She stormed up to him and latched onto his wrist, tearing his hand away from his forehead. Cú croaked in shock. "How dare you treat me this way? I welcomed you and your companion into my home and fed you food and drink, and yet you insult me—mock me! Who do you think you are?"
His shock disappeared, replaced by infuriating conceit. "I s'ppose my adventures have stoked the fires of my ego a bit too much."
Emer glowered, unamused.
"But, it wasn't my intention to mock you, princess." Cú removed his wrist from her hand. "It seemed like it'd be amusing to tease you."
"So, is that what your proposal was? An excuse to tease me?" The thought made her heart clench. How humiliating.
"No." The softness had returned to his voice. "I was serious."
Nevertheless, Emer scoffed. "For what reason would you want to marry me?"
"Shall I start with the obvious?" Cú reached for her face, gently brushing his knuckles along her cheek. "I think you're beautiful."
She pushed his hand away. "I'm well aware."
"Ah? That's a rather arrogant thing to say."
"I merely meant I've heard similar words before," retorted Emer. "I've had many a man compliment my beauty—so what? A compliment to weasel their way into my good graces is all it is."
"Let me finish. You're incredibly skilled at needlework," he continued. "You carry yourself with elegance and poise. You care greatly about your sister. You even tended to li'l, ol' me during the banquet. And," he added with a playful wink, "you got quite the fire burning within ya. That's what I find most intriguing."
Emer remained silent.
"That's why I would want to marry ya, Emer." His warm fingers clasped her frozen hand. "Not just anyone will do it for me—I want someone who is my equal, and you are unrivaled."
His equal…
Does he see me as his equal?
She looked down at their hands, not yet intertwined.
Would it be wrong if I…?
Emer stopped herself. Yes, it would.
She snatched her hand away, holding it to her chest. "Your arrogance is astounding."
"So I've been told," he said.
"You see yourself as my equal? As far as I can see, you are but a hapless boy with nary a feat to his name."
"Huh?" Cú's smirk fell to a confused pout. "I've plenty of feats, princess."
"None that I have heard, sir knight."
"I can take down forty men alone, twenty when I'm weakened. I can protect a hundred people without breaking a sweat," Cú boasted.
"Is that all? Each guard of mine can face a hundred men. Even my father is wiser and sharper than you."
He sighed dramatically, "Your words wound me, O fair maiden."
"And now mere words sting you? Are you certain you're as mighty as you believe?"
Stepping back, Cú raised his hands. "If I'd known your tongue was so sharp, I would've come more prepared," he joked.
Her confidence returned. Good. He no longer had the advantage. "Not only are you arrogant, but you are foolish as well. I had almost thought…" Emer paused. "No, never mind. You are as foolish as every man who has dared to ask for my hand."
"I reckon I'm at least a little bit more charming."
"Don't flatter yourself." Emer smoothed out her hair, flattening the wild strands that had sprung from her lapse in composure.
Cú stared at her for a moment. "...You know," he said, "I could just kidnap you."
"Try it. See where that gets you."
He drummed his fingers on his hip and smiled crookedly, "I just might to get more of that feistiness, princess."
Emer rolled her eyes.
"But, throw me a bone here. What can I do to gain your favor?"
"You still believe you stand a chance?"
He shrugged. "Hope keeps a man goin', you know?"
"Fine. If it will get you out of my hair." Emer poked his forehead, startling him. "Remember this well, Cú Chulainn. I will not marry some hapless boy who is all talk and no action. Seek out the strongest warrior in all the land and train under them. If you can somehow survive, maybe I'll consider marrying you."
His eyes gleamed at the prospect. "Consider it done, my lady." Cú pivoted on his heels and slipped back into the shadows. She listened to the crunch of grass and leaves, slowly fading into nothing. Emer sighed, wiping her hand over her face.
Suddenly, the crunching resumed at a rapid pace—back toward her. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Cú's face poked out from the darkness, and he said, "Oh, I forgot to mention—you're cute when you blush."
Face aflame, Emer shrieked, "LEAVE!"
Emer exhaled slowly through her nose. Gray clouds softened the glaringly blue sky, and a gentle breeze cooled the air. A picturesque day—a perfect one for a stroll or a chariot ride across the plains.
And yet, just as she did yesterday, Emer stood beside Cú's chariot. With her, her father, and her sister. She watched as Cú mounted next to his charioteer, keeping her sour expression at bay. The sun had not yet broken the horizon when Cú had risen, quickly preparing for their departure. Emer would call it eagerness—and she wondered if he intended to immediately seek out the strongest warrior in all of Ireland. He cleared his throat, straightening the cloak's brooch, and said to Forgall Monach, "We thank you for your hospitality, milord. I haven't seen such finer halls in all of Ulster than here. Nor have I tasted such good food and drink." Emer sensed the pride emanating from her father. But, he only showed it through a twitch in his lips.
"It was a great pleasure housing such fine warriors," replied Forgall Monach. "I pray that your journey is without trouble."
"Thanks." And then his red eyes settled on her, twinkling. She met his gaze calmly.
He smiled. "I'll be seeing ya, Emer."
"Yah!" Láeg snapped the reins before she could respond. The horses brayed, stamping their hooves, and raced off, leaving behind a trail of dust. Inwardly, Emer groaned.
"Aha? What was that exchange about?" Fial purred, sliding next to Emer.
She looked at her sister with a disgruntled frown. "I don't know."
Her eyes flashed with glee. "Surely, you must know what he meant by that, Em. No man just casually says 'I'll be seeing ya' to a fair lady like yourself..." Fial clasped Emer's shoulders and squeezed them. "Spill it."
"By the gods, it meant nothing," stressed Emer, unable to escape.
"Tell me, tell me, tell me~!" Fial rubbed her cheek across Emer's head like a cat.
"Fial—!"
"Daughters."
Emer and Fial stiffened.
Forgall Monach's cold gaze settled upon the pair. "Emer, pray tell, what did Cú Chulainn say to you?"
Like thorns, the words snagged in her throat. Swallowing, she said, "He asked for my hand in marriage."
"HE DID?!" cried Fial. Emer flinched. Ow.
"I denied him outright," she added quickly.
Fial gasped, appalled. "But why? He was gorgeous! Honestly, Emer," she scolded with a waggle of her finger, "if you keep turning down all these marriage proposals, there will be no Ulstermen left to marry! Furthermore—"
As Fial prattled on, Emer glanced at her father. His pale eyes had grown colder, staring at where Cú Chulainn and Láeg had disappeared. He murmured, "He asked for your hand, did he…"
Her skin prickled. She wished she had said nothing at all.
