The sun shone gently across the mountaintop courtyard, filtered through wisps of cloud as though the sky itself were in no rush. The breeze carried with it the scent of pine and mountain tea, winding between flowering branches and curling around stone pillars like a slow, wandering cat.
Breakfast was a quiet affair.
Or rather, it had been.
Egeria sat composed and regal at the low stone table, her long silvery hair catching the light like flowing silk. Kyle sat beside her, hair still damp from the morning bath, chewing quietly on a piece of fried flatbread and honeyed fruit. Across from them lounged Buer—legs folded under her, cheeks puffed with sweet rice balls she insisted she wasn't eating that fast.
Everything was tranquil.
Too tranquil.
Kyle was mid-sip when the wind shifted—and the air trembled.
Egeria's eyes lifted to the horizon.
A sudden gust of wind spiraled down from above, scattering petals and startling birds into flight. A cry rang out—not a scream, but a delighted, unrestrained shout.
"AUNT BUER!!!"
Buer barely had a chance to look up before a blur of white and blue slammed into her arms with enough force to rock the bench.
"Oh heavens!" Buer wheezed, blinking as an elegant but breathless figure clung to her neck. "Well, if it isn't my favorite hurricane!"
"Mine dearest aunt," came the half-laughing, half-sniffling voice of the whirlwind. "I hath traversed flame, fog, and folly just to find thee again! Thou didst not send letters!"
Kyle stared as the new arrival finally straightened herself. Petite yet composed, elegant in posture, she looked like she'd walked out of a painting of a Princess. Her silvery-blue hair curled in the wind, her blue eyes sparkled literally, not a metaphor, and her ornate outfit, though elegant, was rumpled from travel.
"...That's Focalors?" Kyle whispered.
Egeria set down her cup and rose without a word. There was a softness in her movement, like a ripple across still water. The woman—no, the first disciple—turned at once and threw herself into Egeria's arms.
"Mother!" she cried joyously, dropping to one knee like a knight before her liege. "My journey hath ended, and I return to thee most triumphant—without madness or marriage to strangers!"
"...I missed you," she whispered, the words no longer dramatic, just honest.
"I know," Egeria said softly, resting her cheek on top of the blue-haired girl's head. "You did well. You always do."
Buer, grinning like a child watching fireworks, clutched her hands to her cheek. "Awwww! She's crying!"
"I am not!" Focalors wailed, hiccupping. "These are… celebratory tears!"
The hug lingered. Kyle blinked, unsure whether to smile or stay silent. Buer gave him a subtle thumbs-up from where she lay tangled in the overturned chair.
Eventually, Focalors pulled away with a sniff, dabbing her eyes with a frilly sleeve, before turning to Kyle at last.
"And this… is the groom thou hath chosen for me?" she asked, tilting her head like a curious cat. "Hmm…"
Kyle froze as she slowly, very slowly, began to circle him like a predator sizing up a particularly juicy rabbit.
"This one…" she murmured, circling from behind. "Is most pleasing to the eye. A strong jaw. Calloused hands"
"Yes, yes, he's practically sculpted by devotion, I can smell it!" Focalors said with glee. She leaned in close to Kyle, sniffing. "And he smells faintly of tea, lake water and books. Good! I do so detest men who smell like cologne and regret."
Kyle flushed scarlet. "I—I took a bath last night."
"I approve," she said, poking his bicep. "Strong. Yet not brutish. This arm has wielded a sword in defense of someone, methinks!"
"Several someones," Buer muttered into her tea.
Focalors turned to her aunt, grabbing her hands. "You did not tell me he was this cute!"
Buer tilted her head coyly. "You never asked."
"His eyes are like stormy skies, his posture unassuming, yet proud. My heart flutters like a trout in spring!"
"Sturdy hands too. Mmm. Most excellent for lifting damsels in distress," she added, nodding with approval. "Mayhaps even multiple damsels."
Kyle opened his mouth, unsure what to say.
Buer was doubled over with laughter now. "Oh he does, doesn't he? And you haven't even seen him shirtless."
Kyle turned an impossible shade of red.
"I—I'm right here, you know," he said meekly.
Focalors stepped back, hands on her hips, smiling now with genuine warmth beneath the sparkle of mischief.
"Aye, I do see thee. And I am well pleased," she declared. "My beloved master hath chosen with wisdom and whimsy both. And I thank thee, Mother—truly—from the depths of mine ancient and unloved heart."
Egeria tried to feign a blank look to hide the turbulence in her heart, things were not going according to the plan.
She succeed, thanking a millennium of practice in making that expression.
"Is this a normal greeting?" Kyle asked helplessly, glancing to Buer.
"Eh," Buer said, flopped in a lounge chair now, sipping tea. "She didn't bite you. That's a good sign."
Egeria calmly set down her cup. "Focalors."
"Yes, my liege?" Focalors said brightly, snapping to attention like a soldier called to war.
"You're overwhelming him."
"Oh." Focalors blinked. Her cheeks turned slightly pink. "I am?" She turned to Kyle and gave a hasty, awkward bow. "Forgive me, husband-to-be. Mine affections are torrential in their nature."
Kyle blinked, stunned by the sudden change in her demeanor—from bold cyclone to flustered drizzle in a single heartbeat.
She cleared her throat. "It is simply… I have awaited this moment with great anticipation. I, who hath lived as a human for countless millennia, know not the touch of true love. But now, fate bestows upon me this union—and perchance, a chance to know it."
Her voice cracked just slightly.
Kyle looked at her properly then.
Under the theatrical flourishes, the embroidered lace, and the courtly words… there was a woman earnestly hoping.
Hopeful.
Lonely, perhaps.
But not desperate—just someone who wanted to believe love could still happen to her.
He smiled. "It's alright. I'm… glad you're here."
Her eyes widened. She turned away immediately, fanning her face with a handkerchief.
"Oh fie, he doth smile kindly! I cannot withstand it!"
Buer laughed from the sidelines, cheeks puffed with rice again. "You're doomed, Kyle. She's already writing wedding vows in her head."
"Oh no," he whispered.
He hears a quite whisper that no one else apparently did
"I do not yet love thee but I look forward to learning how."
The words struck something tender in Kyle's chest.
The courtyard slowly settled again after the whirlwind of silk, laughter, and declarations had passed.
Kyle had muttered something about the library and had made a quick exit, flustered and uneasy with the new company.
Focalor had floated away with an amused smile after him secretly.
Silence fell in their wake.
Only the sound of birdsong and the gentle clink of Buer setting her teacup down filled the air.
"…Well," Buer said.
Egeria, still standing by the low table, did not move.
"She likes him," Buer added with exaggerated cheer. "She really likes him."
Egeria closed her eyes.
"…So it would appear."
Buer leaned back, her voice bubbling with delight. "You were hoping she'd hate him."
"That is incorrect," Egeria said, turning with regal calm toward the tea tray.
"You were praying she'd hate him."
"I do not pray," Egeria replied, lifting the kettle. "I anticipated she would find the arrangement unappealing and reject it outright, as most romance novel said" she insists childishly.
Buer blinked.
"…Did you just say romance novel?"
Buer laughed, tears in her eyes.
"Did you base Focalors reaction on generic romance novels? Oh my silly water goddess."
"Ancient classic literature, not generic" Egeria made an expression which was very close to a pout.
Buer, meanwhile, had fully collapsed against the cushions, wheezing.
"You—you actually—you orchestrated a marriage arrangement based on what? 'Pride and Petticoats'? 'The Viscount's Veiled Vow'? 'How to Reform a Brooding Sword-Wielder in Ten Steps'?"
"They were well-reviewed!" Egeria snapped, slamming the teapot down with all the gentle force of a thundercloud in a silk dress. "And extremely popular among modern readers!"
"Oh my stars," Buer cackled. "You were counting on dramatic tension! You thought she'd storm off in a huff and he'd be too shy to chase her, and you'd get to cancel it while sighing like a disappointed mother figure."
"That… may have been among the more favorable outcomes," Egeria muttered, trying and failing to hide behind the rim of her teacup.
Buer wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "You absolute schemer. But dear Focalors didn't get the script."
"Isn't it normal for daughters to protest against arranged marriages and… look for their own love?" Egeria insisted, her tone growing increasingly defensive. "To rebel with spirit! To declare 'I shan't marry for duty, but for love!' and ride off on a metaphorical steed?"
Buer stared at her. "You actually wanted her to stage a dramatic rejection arc."
"Yes!" Egeria hissed, clutching the edge of the tray like a chess master whose gambit had been countered by a knight hopping clean over her trap. "Where was the vehement objection? The hair-tossing? The offended 'I shall not be auctioned like a jeweled goat' speech?"
"Oh my gods," Buer wheezed again, burying her face in her hands. "You rehearsed her lines in your head, didn't you?"
"I merely predicted likely emotional reactions based on her historical behavior and genre convention," Egeria muttered stiffly.
"You wrote fanfiction of your own life, didn't you."
"I curated possibilities," Egeria said with regal offense. "Educated foresight." she punctuated.
Buer laughed so hard she snorted. "You're unbelievable! Our wise and stoic divine lady was up here scripting dialogue like: 'And then Focalors, tearful yet proud, shall cry, "No, Mother, I cannot love a stranger—no matter how dreamy he looks shirtless!"'"
Egeria's eyes darted away. "…The line was, 'No decree can command the chambers of my heart.' And it was thematically sound."
"You forgot to account for how charming little Kyle is," Buer said, flopping back against the cushions, still breathless with mirth. "He has both of us—two Archons, mind you—basically hanging from each arm, and he's not even twenty yet!"
Egeria groaned softly, massaging her temple. "Do not remind me."
"Oh, but I must!" Buer said, positively glowing now. "And Focalors? Poor girl. She's been living among mortals for decades, and not one man dared to flirt with her. You think that hasn't made her lonely?"
"She is…" Egeria paused, searching for a term that wasn't 'hopelessly dramatic,' "...highly expressive. And mortals fear what they cannot predict."
"Exactly," Buer grinned. "And then you offered my sweet little sage to her on a platter. Polite. Sincere. Heart stupidly wide open. He's like a human comfort pastry. Of course she fell for him the moment he smiled."
Egeria let out a long, mournful sigh. "I raised him too well."
"I raised him too well," Buer mimicked in a deep, overly noble voice. "Listen to yourself. You're like a grandmother who baked the perfect pie and is now upset that someone else took a slice."
"Do not compare me to a pie-baking grandmother," Egeria snapped, but with far too little venom for it to land. "This is a failure of prediction, not emotion."
Buer grinned even wider. "Darling, you're jealous."
"I am concerned."
"You're jealous and concerned."
"I am protective."
"You are an absolute mess," Buer declared happily, reaching for another biscuit from the tea tray. "And it's delicious."
"I could still annul it," she muttered.
"Nope," Buer said cheerfully, "too late. The divine ball of yarn has already started rolling, and you, my dear, are tangled up right in it."
Egeria scowled faintly, then went still.
"…You said earlier she hadn't had a suitor in Fontaine."
Buer glanced up. "Mm-hm. Poor thing. I don't think any of the mortal men even made eye contact. You'd think a few would at least try, but no. Too afraid of the divine. They don't dare."
Egeria's fingers curled slightly around her cup. "…That is… regrettable."
"More than that," Buer said, suddenly gentler. "It hurt her. But she'd never say it. She always masks it with flair and bombast. 'I shall wait for a worthy soul to kneel!' and all that. But really, I think she just… stopped hoping."
Egeria's breath caught.
"She laughed just now," Buer murmured. "Down the hill. Did you hear it? A real laugh. Not performative. Not polished. Just… joy."
A long silence followed.
Buer's eyes softened. "So… maybe don't sabotage this one, hmm?"
Egeria said nothing for a moment.
Then nodded slowly. "…I will not interfere."
"Good," Buer smiled. "Because if you try, I will tell her you were writing fake scripts for her in your head."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Oh, I'd do it with dramatic flourishes. Possibly a reenactment. Maybe even—"
But Egeria reached over and pressed a single delicate finger to Buer's lips, silencing her.
"…Silence," Egeria muttered, sipping with all the haughty grace of divine.
"Fine," Buer whispered playfully. "But you owe me for not telling her how much of a lovestruck meddler you are."
"I owe you nothing."
"Oh, you will. One day, I'll collect it." Her smile turned sly.
Egeria paused. Glanced at her.
But Buer only leaned back again, eyes sparkling with secret meaning.
Down the garden path, laughter rang out once more.