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It takes but one glance at Elusia Castle to understand its people’s love for artistry.
Brodia builds its fortresses with function and utility in mind, leaning into the strengths of its rugged terrain. But Elusia, in the face of harsh and unforgiving circumstances, craves innovation; it chases the improbable, elegant archways and stunning spires emerging from snow-capped mountains like a flower blooming in frost. Carefully-crafted facades and brilliant stained-glass windows communicate an endearing stubbornness, a refusal to settle for survival.
Diamant admires their tenacity. A weight sinks in his stomach when he remembers how many times his own nation—his own father, whom he honors with all his heart—met that resourceful spirit with bloodshed. Luckily for him, he arrives as a welcome guest today.
The weather could stand to be more accomodating—he’d forgotten how cold it got even in early autumn. The afternoon sky is clouded by gloomy gray haze; the view is punctuated by a soft but steady snowfall. At least it gives him a good reason to wear the alpaca-wool sweater he’d received from Amber as a birthday present.
“So… Is someone going to let us in, or…?” the so-called retainer asks from his left, shielding his eyes from the wind as he scans the empty snow field in front of the castle gate. “Kinda expected a welcome party.”
Jade’s subdued laugh sounds from Diamant’s right. “Oh, I think there is one. Try looking up.”
Before he can direct his gaze to the sky, the cry of a wyvern pierces the air, followed by the familiar flap of great scaly wings. A vivid memory makes Diamant’s heart race: a lone rider soaring over Brodia Castle’s walls, not even their finest snipers able to intercept her. Ivy doesn’t fly with the same haste or ill intent as the day she first attempted to steal Brodia’s ring; she doesn’t brandish any blades or terrifying fire magic, and no red figures shadow her every movement. But Diamant is awestruck by her nonetheless as she flies graceful loops overhead, a vision of power and freedom.
She makes a perfect landing; Diamant dismounts his horse as she slides out of the saddle, her feet silent on the snow.
“Welcome back, Your Majesty,” she says with a shallow curtsy, a certain warm smugness in the way she uses his title. “I hope the journey wasn’t too rough.”
“Certainly no rougher than taking your wyvern out for a ride in these conditions, Queen Ivy,” he replies, tilting forward to bow.
Ivy wrinkles her nose, holding her hands out and letting snowflakes land on her gloved palms. “Oh, this? Excellent weather for the time of year, actually. Don’t tell me you’re letting a little chill get to you?”
Tenacious, indeed. “Of course not,” he assures her, even as the snow clinging to his hair begins to slip past his defenses and run in a cold trickle down his back. “But… it wouldn’t hurt to warm up inside, would it?”
—
The truth is, they don’t talk much business during their regular visits. ‘Peace discussions’ prove a convenient cover for what is ultimately a heartfelt reunion between two unlikely friends; allies bonded through tragedy and triumph, heroes serving a purpose that transcends borders.
That’s how Diamant expects his relationship with Ivy would be described in a Brodian storybook, anyway. Musicians across Elyos have composed songs about the Divine Dragon’s journey and the brave figures who stood beside them; and while Diamant loves to see his people with hope, the lyrics are often grander than he thinks he deserves. He tries his best not to overthink it and enjoy the moment.
Elusia Castle is far livelier than the first time he was here. Maybe that’s an unfair comparison—anything would be an improvement over eerie and empty, the hollow defeat of a country robbed and betrayed by its own merciless god. Even then, Elusia’s grim situation had been overshadowed by their greater conflict against Sombron, not even granted a proper mourning period. Ivy had worn the same stoney face she’d put on at Givre Port, pushing her grief down in order to stay devoted to their overarching cause.
That image makes the bright expression on her face now all the more comforting. She’s abandoned her signature headpiece today, bearing her good mood for all to see; a simple gold circlet rests upon her deep magenta crown, fuchsia blooms woven into her hair. The perfect ensemble for a stroll through the castle gardens, a massive covered courtyard kept at a hospitable temperature through the efforts of skillful spellwork.
“You’re smiling, Your Majesty,” Diamant points out.
Ivy rolls her eyes. “Diamant, please. Don’t torture me with formalities. I get enough of it from everyone else.”
Conveniently ignoring his observation, then. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m so used to hearing it myself that it’s… normal, now.” That, and he wants to tease her a little. “But my point was that… It’s good to see you happy.”
Her brows knit together, cheeks turning a soft pink that she tries to conceal with a gloved hand. “Oh—well… N-no need to make a huge deal out of it. How did your sparring match with Kagetsu go?”
Far too quick to change subjects, but he’ll spare her further embarrassment. “He’s as formidable an opponent as ever. Glad to know you’re in good hands.”
“Thank you for indulging him,” Ivy replies, staring up at the glass ceiling looming two stories overhead. “His presence already lights up the entire court, and a challenging duel keeps his ravenous appetite for combat fed.” She sighs. “I can’t help but feel like I’m holding him back from going out and seeing the rest of the world, though.”
Diamant shakes his head. “Kagetsu isn’t the type to view his duty as a tether. I’ve no doubt he would follow you anywhere.”
Ivy hums, intrigued. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt for him to get out of the castle more often. When Elusia’s affairs are more… in order, I may need to do more traveling. The citizens ought to know their new queen better. In the meantime, though…”
“You could always do what Brodia does, and host a fighting tournament,” Diamant offers. “Let the seasoned warriors come to you.”
She snorts. “My father would—” her voice halts for a brief moment, hesitant and reverent. “My father would have called such a thing barbaric. A magic competition, on the other hand…” She pinches her chin between her fingers, contemplating. “Either sounds like a good plan, honestly. I could open it up to all of Elyos, even. After all, what’s the point of committing to peace with our neighbors if we aren’t going to learn more about each other?”
She says it with an enviable enthusiasm, proving again that she has all the makings of an excellent queen. Diamant wishes his advisors were half as fun to talk to—maybe then all the tasks waiting for him back home wouldn’t seem so daunting. “Mm. An equal exchange.”
“Yes,” she says, with another bright and ingenious smile. Then her lips part in sudden surprise, her eyes wide with a realization. “Ah, that reminds me…” She comes to a halt, reaching for a silk pouch hanging from a gilded rope attached to her skirts. “My new piece is ready to show off. You brought me such lovely specimens last time…”
His chest flutters. He never could have imagined, ages ago, that handing an easily-frightened princess a simple gemstone “for courage” would have turned into a symbol of reconciliation between nations, let alone kick-start a cheeky new tradition between the two of them. Beginning with the necklace that she crafted during the war, Ivy’s accumulated an ongoing collection of handmade jewelry, all incorporating a gem he gives her. An amethyst bracelet, a ruby choker, an obsidian pendant resembling a dagger—each new creation impresses him more than the last.
“The bloodstone you picked out was beautiful,” she says, drawing his attention to her raised hand, clutching something he can’t yet see. “Such an interesting combination of colors…” With a deep breath, she unfurls her fingers, revealing a pair of stud earrings resting atop her palm. Two smooth, deep green stones, mottled with flecks of burnt red-orange; each one is cut into a perfect circle and nestled into a copper-plated frame. “I know it’s not as elaborate as some of my other work, but—”
“They look fantastic,” he assures her, letting her drop them into his waiting hands for closer inspection. “And they’ll look even better when you wear them,” he adds, holding one up to the light.
“Actually,” Ivy starts, pressing her knuckle to her lips and rocking back and forth on her heels, “I was thinking that… that you could wear these ones.”
He blinks at her, taken aback. “Me?” His gaze travels back to the earrings—they’re small, practical, wouldn’t get in the way of training… “I’m flattered, but—”
“You don’t want to,” Ivy interrupts, her tone flat and clinical. “Of course. I should have known. Feel free to forget it, then—”
“That’s not it, Ivy,” he cuts in, eager to ease her obvious nerves. “I would love to wear them. It’s just…” He runs his free hand through his hair, exhaling. “It’s just that my ears aren’t pierced.”
She tilts her head, accepting the earrings absentmindedly as she processes his statement. “Ah.” Her shoulders shake, an incredulous giggle escaping her lips. “Ahaha! I can’t believe I failed to notice!” Diamant is concerned he’s wounded her feelings, for a moment—but her laughter continues as she looks up at him. “Apologies, Diamant.” She composes herself, though a smile remains on her face. “Well, if that’s the only problem… Would you like me to pierce them for you?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but can’t find the words to express how baffled he is.
“Don’t worry,” Ivy says. “I’ve done it before.” With a hint of dramatic flair, she places a hand on her heart. “I swear, on my honor as the queen of Elusia, that I will do an exceptional job.”
When she asks like that, how can he refuse?
—
“Don’t tell me the king of Brodia is afraid of needles.”
“I’m just tense. There’s a difference.”
Ivy taps a delicate finger to his jaw, turning his face a fraction to the left before brushing aside his fringe and securing it with a hairpin. “Either way, I need you to relax,” she urges, her voice so close that it sends an involuntary shiver down Diamant’s spine. He inhales, softens his gaze, and lets his body go slack. “There you go,” Ivy says, standing back and meeting his eyes with a thoughtful look. “Let me fetch a few things.”
As she moves to the vanity and begins rifling through the drawers, Diamant scans the room. Large chambers, well-decorated, a warm fire crackling in the hearth across from the four-poster bed where he’s sitting, legs dangling off the edge. “That’s quite the tapestry,” he comments, eyeing the intricate weave that spans the length of the mantle. “Is that…?”
“A depiction of Lumera blessing the Divine One,” Ivy confirms, still gathering supplies. For a brief moment, she turns to admire the piece, a fond smile on her face. “The clerics from Lythos gave it to me at my coronation. I’m happy not having to hide my beliefs anymore.”
There’s a slide and a thud of wood; she pivots around, crossing the room and handing Diamant several objects: a bottle of what appears to be alcohol, the silk pouch housing the earrings, and a bar of soap that smells like lemon and honey. From her pocket she withdraws a needle; with a snap of her fingers, a tiny and precise flame blooms in her hand. She holds the needle’s tip to the fire until the metal glows a dangerous red.
It isn’t until she raises a curious eyebrow that he realizes he’s been staring a bit too intently. “Still nervous? I really have done this before,” she reiterates. “Multiple times. With Hortensia, with several of my friends from the academy…”
“I’m fine, truly,” he says, letting her take the bottle from his hands. She splashes some of its contents onto a washcloth, wiping down the cooling needle. “I can see you’re well-prepared.”
Ivy hums, half-smiling, and steps closer. “It’s the least I can do for not thinking my gift through.”
“No,” Diamant starts, watching as Ivy orients herself toward his right ear, her leg brushing against his and her knee pressing into the edge of the bed. “It’s clear you put a lot of thought into it.” She holds out her free hand and he places the bar of soap into her open palm; her focus is palpable as she positions it behind his ear, bringing the needle in close to the lobe. A sharp point teases his skin, but Ivy holds back, assessing with care.
“Would it help if I held you steady?” he asks, even as he uses all his own willpower to remain still, gaze directed straight ahead.
In his peripheral vision, he swears he sees her flinch. “Maybe,” she breathes. Then, before he can move, she hastily adds: “Actually, no. I’m just about ready.” He can perceive her glancing at him, but can’t read her expression. “How about you? Any last-minute change of heart? Fears to succumb to?”
Diamant swallows. As he’s already said, he isn’t afraid of needles; he has no concerns about Ivy’s ability. There’s no reason for his heart to be beating fast, for this small task of piercing his ears to torture him this much. But there’s something about being in Ivy’s room (so casually), something about her right next to him like this, privy to his every minute reaction and change in his demeanor; something that, if it isn’t fear or apprehension, is otherwise unidentifiable. And whatever it is, he doesn’t hate it.
“None. I’m ready, too.”
She exhales; he lets out a clipped whine. A brief and shooting pain pinches his ear and forces his eyes shut. Then, there’s nothing but a dull ache and the sound of the bed creaking as Ivy retreats.
“Could you pass me an earring?” she asks. Diamant complies, eyes fluttering open as he fumbles for the pouch. “Thank you,” she breathes, moving in close again once the stud is in her hand. “Let me know if this hurts too much—there’s no need to rush through it.”
Every slow nudge of the needle through his ear is like a rehash of the initial pain, but it’s in no way aggravating—despite the traitorous hint of tears that well up and stick in his lashes. Ivy doesn’t seem to notice, at least. She carefully inserts the stud, securing the back with a firm click. The sensation of cool metal and the weight of stone is strange, but he suspects it won’t take long to adjust. It’s a nice distraction from the fact that Ivy is sitting right next to him, scrutinizing her work, her gaze as pointed as the needle she just pierced him with.
He turns to meet her eyes for what feels like the first time in ages, and she heaves a sigh.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
She shoots him an annoyed look. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
“I’ve been through worse,” he says with a shrug. “Much worse.”
Ivy takes a long time before responding, and Diamant wonders what possessed him to say something so needlessly ominous. It’s too late, now, anyway. The air is charged for a few moments more, an electricity he wishes he could capture in a bottle.
Then she stands up, brushes herself off. “Good. Now the other one.”
He groans, his already-pierced ear still stinging. But he sure as hell can’t quit now.
—
Much like the slow precision of her needle, Ivy takes the time to properly admire her work. Diamant has already acclimated to her bemused observation, letting her turn his head this way and that, comfortable with her gaze so long as he reminds himself that it’s the earrings she’s focused on, not him. After she’s satisfied, she fetches him a hand mirror, allowing him to marvel at the two perfectly-aligned bloodstones framing his face.
“People back home are going to ask questions, you know,” he says, drawing his knees up and inward, shifting further back onto the bed and settling into a cross-legged position.
“And you can tell them that this was the queen of Elusia’s personal handiwork,” Ivy replies, taking a seat beside him. Her voice takes on a certain edge. “That she got close enough to their king to tear out his heart, but didn’t. That ought to make me more trustworthy in their eyes, hm?”
Diamant eyes her with fascination. “You somehow manage to get more teasing each time I see you, Ivy.”
“But I’m serious!” she insists, with a less-than-convincing laugh. Such a far cry from the melancholic princess he once faced on the battlefield.
And her suggestion is tempting, but Diamant doesn’t really want to tell anyone about this. It’s not even about rumors—though he is conscious of keeping up appearances, of making announcements only when his people are ready to hear them. But he wants this moment to stay between him and Ivy. He wants the sting of a needle and the tart scent of lemon to be memories shared between two people, not two monarchs.
Nevermind that he’s in a room that’s housed countless generations of Elusian royalty; right now, it doesn’t matter. Ivy may be a sovereign like him—but when he’s with her, he’s never found it easier to forget who everyone expects him to be, if just for a fleeting few seconds. It’s a refreshing revelation.
“Diamant?” Ivy prompts. “Is something wrong?”
No. Yes. He isn’t sure. All he knows is that he can’t tell her any of what he’s thinking.
“I was… wondering what people might say, again,” he manages. “Not in a bad way, but…”
If she picks up on his obfuscation, she doesn’t show it. “Hm, maybe you’ll start a new trend.”
“Truly?” he asks, trying to picture the Brodian nobility looking to their king as some kind of… fashion icon. It’s laughable. “Citrinne would be jealous.”
“The people of Brodia will love them,” Ivy says, her tone sincere. “Because they love you.”
Huh. He supposes he does have that influence. Maybe he can set a standard of acceptance; maybe it can extend to accepting an entire country and its new queen, too.
“And because those stones really make your eyes pop,” she adds.
“Pardon?”
Ivy hones in on him again, thoughtful. “They bring out the little bits of gold in the red,” she says, taking his jaw into her dexterous hands. “And highlight the more delicate features of your face…”
He furrows his brow. “‘Delicate,’” he repeats softly.
“Goodness, Diamant, don’t act like you’re unaware of your charms,” Ivy scolds, dropping her hand and groaning. “I can only suspend my disbelief so much.”
He looks back into the mirror, trying to understand. Ivy has a refined aesthetic sense, but is that really how she sees him? Has she really paid that much attention? It makes his ears burn—though that might be the piercings beginning to swell a bit.
“Anyway,” Ivy starts, inching off the bed, “it’s getting late. I hate to rush you out, but…”
Diamant forgets his reflection and rises to his feet, stretching his arms overhead. “Whatever the queen wants.”
She appears hesitant, her fidgeting hands clasped together. “Shall I… escort you back to your room?”
“And leave you to wander back through the darkened halls on your own?” He steps toward the door. “I could never ask that of you.”
Ivy slips ahead of him, undoing the latch. “I’ve a better handle on my fears these days, you know.”
The door swings open and Diamant walks through; the corridor is cast in dramatic shadow, all but a small handful of lamps doused. Light from the royal chamber spills out and paints its bronze-gold rays across the walls, cut by Ivy’s tall silhouette as she positions herself in the doorway. Crossed arms, her figure haloed by the bright and welcoming room behind her. It’s almost painful to leave—and if the small pout on her face is any indication, she isn’t happy to watch him go, either.
“I’ll be fine, Ivy. Really. It isn’t far.”
A deep sigh, strangely wistful. But she composes herself, shaking off her frown. “If you insist. What a stubborn king…”
“Hm. And for a moment, I’d almost forgotten.” He holds his hand out—if they’re going to invoke their titles, it’s only appropriate he follows proper etiquette. Ivy looks puzzled for a moment before nodding, slipping her palm into his. “Thank you for the hospitality, Queen Ivy,” he says, raising her knuckles up to his lips. One of his most basic lessons, a sign of respect that’s easy for both of them to understand. It’s a pleasant ritual to fall back on when the dark hallway clouds his perception, sleep threatening his road-weary mind.
But Diamant wonders what he’d choose to do if he didn’t have to constantly think of himself as the king of Brodia, or Ivy as the queen of Elusia, facing down ages of conflict to resolve and resentments to ease. He wonders if he’d hold onto Ivy’s hand longer, or whether he’d ask her to sit and indulge him with more stories, the late hour be damned. What would it be like if he had the space to consider what he wants?
He wonders, and then he lets each hypothetical go, one by one. “Good night,” he murmurs, before turning to leave.
“Diamant, wait.”
Ivy’s fingers curl around his upper arm, her voice a low and near-inaudible whisper. He pivots back, dizzy with anticipation. Her hand moves to his collar, tugging him down an inch, her chin tilting up and her head bobbing forward. She kisses him on the lips, and Diamant realizes this answers at least one of his nagging questions. Then his mind goes blank, eyes closing as he holds onto Ivy’s waist. He chases her mouth on instinct, parting for one gasping breath before swooping in for another taste.
There’s no doubt he’s sloppy, unpracticed. If they went on for longer, he’s sure Ivy would find herself second-guessing this sudden decision. But they separate at the exact right moment, with his skin buzzing and her soft hand cradling his cheek. “I…” she breathes, chewing her slightly-puffy lips. “I’d been… wondering…”
His voice creaks when he tries to speak. He must be the most pathetic man in all of Elyos, tongue-tied by a simple unexpected kiss. “We’ll… We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” he manages, cracking a smile to try and communicate that no, that wasn't unwelcome, I’m just an unprepared fool—
“Yes,” Ivy sighs, and her flustering at least makes him feel less alone, less awkward. “Yes, we certainly will. Good night.”