Dunban had said those three words.

Melia couldn't believe it. She had never really thought that he would. She may have dreamed of it, but she was certain he would never utter such a statement. But he did.

And she had just stared at him, dumbfounded.

Oh gods.

What was she supposed to do now? He had said he loved her and walked away.

Well, the man had left her with something. An ultimatum, in a sense.

And his heart was now in her hands.

The young woman looked down at the stack of papers in her hands, clutching them tightly, feeling the rough texture beneath her fingers. In the dim blue light, she saw the black strokes of writing on the parchment pages, but the lighting was too faint for her to make out any of the words. She would have to go back to her chambers to read them. Or to the secret apartment. Or Prison Island.

But the Empress did not move from her position. None of those locations would do. She wanted to read them in private, where no one would bother her and she could feel safe and shielded from the eyes of others.

Scrunching her brow together, the Homs Entia ran through potential places for her necessary solitude. Not the main square, nor the Cabinet Chamber or her Study. The shore could lead to another interaction with him, which was the last thing she wanted at the moment. What if she went to the highlands? Surely she would be alone on the cliffs above the Eryth Sea. She shook her head; it would be too chilly and she wouldn't be able to concentrate.

The throne room.

It came to her unexpectedly. How she thought of it, the woman did not know. It was certainly an odd choice, but no one would come searching for her there. During her reign, she had been inside only a handful of times. It was far from her favorite place in the Great Hall; there were too many memories of seeing her father sitting on the throne. Now, the Empress only used it for specific state occasions.

Clutching the papers to her chest, the High Entian woman left the nursery and headed straight for the throne room, exchanging pleasantries with those whose paths she crossed. Even if she wanted to be alone, she knew better than to be rude, especially since she had been given the gift of the public approval.

Finally, she reached her destination, heart pounding in anticipation of what she was about to read. She had taken the back entrance, one that only few knew about. As Melia stepped inside, the darkness overwhelmed her senses. Fear flared up in her heart; it were as though she was back under, lost in her consciousness. Screams filled her ears and she swallowed, trying to drown them out. Summoning a flame in her hand, she found the light switch and slammed it on. Immediately bright, fluorescent light splattered across the room. Squinting against its harshness, Melia pulled the light switch downward, dimming the lights just enough that she would not be plunged back into darkness, but just enough so she could read. From her spot, she stepped over to the throne and took a seat. It was cold, its bite cutting through her clothes all the way to her bones. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea.

She swept her eyes to the control panel set into the right armrest and hit a few keys. It came to life, showering her face in aquamarine light. As she pressed more buttons, she stumbled upon an unexpected find. Hastily, Melia pressed her finger into the screen, and a buzzing noise was heard from the base of the throne. Warmth emanated from every surface of the chair into her body, causing a pleasant shiver to run up her spine. She had always wondered how her father could sit in the throne for hours on end without feeling some discomfort. She had attributed it to his resilience. Now she knew the secret.

Hesitating, Melia looked down at the pages in her lap. Swinging her legs upward to sit cross legged in the wide seat, the Empress unwrapped the pieces of rope holding together the parchment and let them fall away. Just as she began to read the top page, she gasped. The first two words read "Dear Melia."

What was this?

She flicked through the next few pages, finding many of them started with the same phrase. With a trembling hand, she turned back to the first page and began to read.

Dear Melia,

This is the first day of my journey. I asked Miqol to take me as far as the edge of Makna Forest. The flight was short. Shorter than I thought it would be, but perhaps that is because I know it will be a while since I will see any places that I know. I'm out on a large plain, just like the Bionis' leg. It goes for miles; I cannot see where it ends.

I've traveled about twenty miles today. I imagine these days will be long until I travel through this area. Today was a quiet day; which is fine by me. The excitement will come soon, as it usually does in long trips. You'll be happy to know I've made camp for the night in a dense grove, far from the openness of the plain. There's a pack of Armu not too far away, but they seem friendly enough. I don't think they'll bother me this evening.

This is a short letter today. Most likely they will become longer as my journey progresses. Though I do not know if you will ever see these letters, it comforts me to write them to you. I know you must hate me now, but I think of you often.

Tomorrow, I'll continue my progress. I hope I'll get some sense of the lay of the land and figure out where to go next.

Goodnight.

Dunban

Fingers trembling, she turned to the next page and began to read. Then the next, and the next. There were things in the letters he had not mentioned when he shared his adventures with her over dinner with Tyrea, Bella and Serenity. Moments when he found himself in peril, danger that could have resulted in his death. There were emotional moments where he wondered what he was doing, if he would ever find a purpose. There were moments when he was flooded with memories of his parents, the few that still remained intact, which caused both happiness and despair.

He worried about Fiora, wondered if she were alright and adjusting to her new position. He was concerned that she would feel alone in Colony 9, even though Shulk would be with her. He hoped that the townspeople would be more accepting and stop fearing her altogether.

And often he wondered about Melia and how she was getting on as Empress. He hoped she was taking more time for herself, whether that was gardening, or singing, or spending time with friends.

She felt her eyes warm with each page she read. Each missive was a direct insight to his thoughts, his emotions, his experiences, his realizations. If she believed she had understood him before, she knew so much more about the heart and soul that resided in his body now.

He wrote that he'd encountered some sort of bear-like creature that had charged him in the middle of the night. He had awoken just as the creature preyed towards him. Melia's heart squeezed in her chest and her eyes flew over the words, fearful for his safety though he rested on a few miles away. Despite the surprise attack, Dunban had been able to fight off the creature, but spent the rest of the night sleeping in a nearby tree, but it had made him question his own mortality. He wondered how many years he had left to live, and how he wanted to spend them.

He wrote about when he descended into the valley of Sylvalum and came across the Nopon caravan. He was both excited and shocked that they were comfortable in the cold landscape. The Nopon welcomed him with open arms, sharing their food and hearth. They peppered him with questions about where he had come from, only which he was happy to answer. They were delighted to hear of the Makna Forest Nopon and he spent time working with their navigator to point them in the right direction towards Chief Dunga's tribe. In the night, they asked him everything they could about the Homs Colonies and the lands of the former Bionis. The children clustered around him and he taught them the games he and Fiora used to play as kids. He shared with them the tales of his adventures with Shulk and the long standing history of the Bionis and the Mechonis, the creation stories and legends of a time long past. Their laughter had lightened his heart and made him realize that his true calling was teaching, but more than in weaponry. It was in history as well.

It also made him realize that he wanted to be a father.

And finally, Dunban wrote about the moment when he'd climbed the snowy peak and encountered the flower. She remembered when he had spoken to her about the same flower. He wrote how the flower reminded him of her: how it survived under the harshest conditions like she had during her reign. He wrote about how her resilience kept her from giving up and instead moving forward; he had admired her determination and courage, never backing down from a challenge. Lastly, the man stated how beautiful the flower was, delicate and elegant, just as she was. And how he would never love anyone else as he loved her.

As she finished the last letter, tears streaming down her face, Melia dropped the stack of papers on the floor and covered her face with her hands. She rocked back and forth in the throne, jaw clenched, sobs tearing themselves from the confines of her throat.

Gods, what was she supposed to do now? He had bared his soul to her, leaving himself completely vulnerable. How could she react with anything but compassion, empathy, love? If she said no, she would hurt him deeply. He would leave and never mention such things to her again. It would truly be over.

But all Melia wanted to do was go to him and wrap him in her arms. She wanted to say to him that despite how he had hurt her by leaving, she had secretly awaited his return each day until they locked eyes in the courtyard. She had refused to take a consort because she could not imagine giving herself to anyone else and she wanted him.

She would only ever want him.

But he had left. And it ripped her asunder. Melia had opened herself almost completely to him — she had been ready to say those three words before she learned of his departure — yet still he had said good-bye. It had felt like a rejection; a slash to her heart that had never fully closed. If it were to happen again...

The thought was unbearable.

Biting her lip, Melia thought of going to Tyrea and asking her sister what she thought and felt she should do. But the Empress dismissed the idea. Tyrea would only encourage her to tell Dunban how she felt. It was not bad advice. Those were the words Melia wanted to hear. But...

The High Entia looked down at her arms and gently tugged at one of her sleeves, revealing the green scars. They were still bright as they lined her inner forearm; the green had not faded as normal scars would. She squeezed her eyes shut as the onslaught of tears began again. Though she knew it appeared as though things were similar to how he left them, her trauma was still alive and well within her body.

If she told him, what would he say? How would he react? The mere thought of him gazing at her in horror was upsetting.

But she loved him. That was a fact. How could she not respond with anything more than her love as well?