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Victory was intoxicating.
For Seth, he knew this fact to be true ever since he’d emerged out of his first sparring match with wide eyes and a grin. He’d never lost his taste for it, and perhaps that was why the others had looked upon him as infallible. No wound, no broken bone could compare to the sheer relief of the battle being over, of the knowledge that one had prevailed in their duty. Truly, there was nothing more potent for the spirit.
It was no different when it came to defeating the Demon King, and it was only the exhilaration of their triumph that allowed Seth to take the position at the rear, wary eyes tracing the shadows for any remnants of Fomortiis’ army.
The exhaustion only started to creep in when he’d stepped out into the sunlight, the rush from the battle starting to fade away. He’d been lucky to only get a few scratches, a stray burn here and there. Painful, yes, but minor in comparison to what the rest of the troops had suffered.
“Seth,” came a voice from behind. Eirika.
She’d been the first person Seth had looked towards when Formortiis had fallen, only allowing himself to relax when he saw that she wasn’t limping or bleeding. She’d been too far away for Seth to make out anything else, but now she stood in front of him, the heaviest pieces of her armor gone, her eyes red and puffy.
“Milady.” It was an effort to hide the wince when he dipped his head. “Are you alright?”
“Yes. Or at least, I will be.” She sniffed, hand twitching as if she were about to bring it to her face and then thought better of it. It was enough for Seth though, and he nearly bit his tongue fighting the temptation to take her hand, guide her to his horse and whisk her far, far away from all this.
It was a useless thought. Running away would have done nothing for her pain, and he’d have broken his vow for nothing.
“You are brave, Princess. Far braver than most would have been in your position.”
Eirika stayed silent, though her eyes regained some of their luster as she looked him up and down.
“I’m to check the troops’ wounds.” She shook the vulnerary in her hand. “And to attend to the minor injuries.”
Instinctively, Seth reached for his lance arm. Eirika didn’t miss the gesture, her frown deepening as she stared at his arm.
“Princess, this is hardly work you should concern yourself with—”
“Does it hurt?” Eirika cut him off, and this time her hand reached out and wrapped around his elbow.. “Let me see. Here, we’ll walk some ways away. And oh, is that a burn? Oh, Seth..”
She fumbled with the opening of the pouch, her hand never letting go of his arm. Seth would have pulled away, but the image of the Princess mere minutes ago had seared itself into his mind, and he’d rather risk scandal than see those tears again.
“You overextend your concern, milady.” Perhaps a kinder approach would be more suited here. “I barely feel the pain, and it’s not as if it’ll recover completely.”
Eirika sighed, and gestured towards the pauldron. He didn’t bother looking around camp before moving to unhook it. Any potential witnesses were too exhausted and busy treating their own wounds.
“There’s no need for such a dire prediction, Seth.” Eirika murmured as she moved to undo the last hook. The pauldron fell onto the ground with a thud, and Eirika took his arm again to roll up his sleeve. The worst of his injury was gone, the pain a shadow of what it used to be, only a thick scar staying behind as a reminder of that angry wound.
“I merely speak the truth, Princess.”
“Not all of it. I’ve been asking around. Sister Natasha thinks it’ll recover after a few months of rest. Father Moulder said he’s seen soldiers with worse wounds pick up a lance again.”
Eirika frowned, raising and turning his arm here and there to follow the scar’s trail. A strange warmth began to settle in his belly as she tentatively reached out . He stamped it out immediately.
“You were asking?”
She glanced away from his wound, blinking up at him almost coquettishly.
“Is there a problem if I did?”
“I do beg your pardon, Princess, but it may have given the impression of favoritism among the ranks. It could have been a blow for morale if it’d spread among the troops.”
“You’re our best general. Morale would have died if the wound had been fatal. And it wouldn’t have been just the troops.” Her voice shook at the last few words, and Seth felt a prickle of alarm when he thought he saw her lips tremble. Then, she shook her head and looked up, her features composed into a thin smile.
“You’ll recover and fight again,” she said stiffly.
Her words were distant, rehearsed, just as was expected from a queen speaking to her soldier. She was heeding his words, and yet none of it seemed right. Her smile didn’t meet her eyes, the pain in them intensifying with each word.
“Are you alright?”
Eirika waved her hand, letting out a strange, strangled sound. “It would be improper if I burdened my knight with my worries. What sort of queen would I be?”
“If I may be so bold, much of what happened today was because of a sovereign feeling as if he had no subject to turn to.”
“Seth…”
“I apologize for being so bold, Princess. I know Prince Lyon was a dear friend of yours, but—”
He bit his tongue when Eirika winced.
“No. You’re not wrong. I—I…Seth, Prince Lyon said he loved me. Always had.”
“Oh.” The words stirred something within him, stirred emotions a knight shouldn't have. Emotions that he thought he'd buried dead so long ago, so unfamiliar that he dug around for the words to describe them. Fear? Worry?
“I…I can’t say I reciprocated his feelings..." Eirika looked down at the ground, and Seth shouldn't, but he felt as if something had lifted off his shoulders. "But, oh, Seth. If I’d known, maybe I could have let him down gently, and made him feel he still had a friend to rely on instead of turning to such dark arts.”
“Prince Lyon made his choices. You can’t be blamed for the choices he made, Princess Eirika.”
“You’re right." The princess didn't sound entirely convinced, but she'd get there. Time healed all wounds. "But there’s something I must make amends for.”
“Princess?”
“This distance…." Eirika asked quietly. "Is this necessary?”
“Princess…” That painful tug returned, the tug that ached in his chest whenever Eirika was around.
“There’s no one who understands me like you. There’s no one who I’d rather be with than you.” And then quickly, she added. “Perhaps, not now. But later. When we’ve tended to our wounded and start rebuilding our homes.”
She looked so earnest. She asked for so little compared to how much she'd sacrificed. How could Seth deny her this?
“Of course, Princess.”