This was written for the LiveJournal user sarajayechan as part of my charity fic thing.
Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem or any characters therein. I make no money from any fanfiction.
She likes to dance in the cold mountain air. Every morning, with the sun just creeping over the horizon, she will creep from their bed and dance by herself. In spring and summer, she sends up petals as she moves, laughing and happy. When summer slips into autumn, she dances her way into piles of browned leaves and in winter – which always lasts so long in Caer Pelyn – she will kick up flurries of snow. She spins and skips and rarely stumbles and her joyous laughter fills the air, carrying through the mountains, a song for the sun to rise to. She never asks for company, although the few times he has joined her, she has been delighted and her smile has only widened. Her dances are nowhere near as meticulous as Tethys', but they are just as beautiful. When Ewan visits them, he will follow her outside and dance too.
She says that she's never been free to do something so frivolous before. She says that dancing with the dawn is her way of celebrating that there is another dawn. She says that it helps her Valega although he has never heard of anyone who has danced while practicing Valega. She says that when she dances, through the flowers or the leaves or the snow, she can hear the whispers of everything around her, sharing her joy. She says that the first time she woke and began her Valega with the dawn, that everything felt so wonderful that she couldn't contain herself and leapt up to dance. She says that she laughs because the birds sing and the flowers blossom and the snow falls. She says she dances for their happiness just as much as her own.
Grandmother likes to watch her dance, more than she likes watching Tethys dance. Tethys dances for the enjoyment of the dance, Grandmother says, while she dances for the enjoyment of the life around her. She dances because she cannot contain herself. Her long blue hair flows around her head and her laughter fills the air. Her eyes sparkle and she radiates joy. He cannot help but want to go to her and bask in it, bask in her. The other villagers are much the same. On bright summer morns, they all wake early and join her in her dance, until they are all awake and dancing on mountain slopes. He has heard that sometimes their laughter fills the air so much that it is echoed down and away, to where other villages can hear it. It would scare them, but they can hear the joy in the laughter and no-one shies away from it.
She has brought new life to Caer Pelyn. They cannot help but smile to see her, this princess who has left her throne for love. She brought laughter with her, she has taught them the true, perfect wonder of Valega. Even the birds flock to her, their sweet chirps and trills mingling with her voice and songs. She says that she rarely sang for happiness, even before the war, but now it breaks free and fills the air. Sometimes, some very rare times, he catches her singing as she fights imaginary enemies with her sword. She doesn't touch it often, unwilling to tempt fate, but when she does it is as if she is Nada Kuya incarnate. Even Grandmother says so, comments on her likeness to the ancient warrior princess. She accepts the compliments with quiet grace and puts her sword away, ready for another day.
The children love her. If they could, they would dance beside her forever and a day. He would too, but he prefers to watch her. She never minds. Whenever she notices her audience, she will smile ever more brightly and offer her hands for anyone to take. He does sometimes, and Grandmother says that when they dance the sun could not ask for a better welcome. He forgets that he has always been unable to dance, simply moving with her and for a brief time, they are the only beings in the world. The children join her more often than he does. Their uncoordinated movements kick up more of a fuss than hers ever do, and her dances end earlier, usually with all of them falling down and simply laughing.
But then there are days when everyone gathers outside their house, simply to watch as she skips and spins and dances for the morning sun. No-one moves to join her and she doesn't invite them. The dawn's light catches on her hair, adding gold to her blue and no-one can look away. Babies fall silent, children smile sleepily and she dances on until the sun finally climbs over the mountains and then they all slip away. But still she dances, barely slowing and always smiling, until he has to touch her and they fall onto the grass together. Only then does she stop, her clear laughter filling the air before she kisses him.
"Oh Saleh," she will whisper, "it was so wonderful." He will never know what to say in return, but that doesn't seem to matter and she will drag him to his feet and they will get on with the day. And that night they will dance with the sunset, together and alone, forever and always.
Thanks for reading.
Rethira