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As evening slipped away into the quiet of night, so too did a knight and her steed wind a path through the streets of Libestal.
She moved quietly. As quietly as one could on horseback, anyway – even at an ambling pace, the sharp clip-clopping of hooves echoed across pale stone pavement, and with nothing to damper its volume, she was sure the sound would carry far.
In reality, her quiet was derived from the lack of comrades by her side.
Knight Gonathon and Lady Immerkind, dear friends she trusted with far more than just her sword; faithful Roa, who she had grown to see in a fond light after their adventures in the previous Libestal. Dear comrades that made her flame flicker brightly before they had even grown as close as they now were.
The mighty phoenix, Shakira, who had been with her through thick and thin – her best friend, a fellow flame, and a guiding light to all, a warm soul who had bestowed upon her a wealth of wisdom and kindness she knew she would never be able to repay in full.
Her dear little sister, Mococo, who she would always stand beside – a sweet flower growing amidst weeds of doubt and confusion, an innocence she had long decided she would nurture and protect until she no longer drew breath.
And—
Nerissa.
Even the thought of her princess, her Juliet, left an indescribable feeling in her stomach.
At first, she had been unsure of the meaning, or the cause, of such a feeling – now, with no small measure of guidance from Shakira, she had finally learned to accept the sensation for what it was.
Not a charm – certainly not a curse.
Just… Nerissa, in her entirety.
Consideration that had once been infected by caution fuelled her flame with something far too tender for words. Her mind, which had once been so easily swayed by the paranoia of interpretations that had no real meaning, was now wholly dedicated towards a single cause, and that cause was a person. She had been softened, smoothened around the edges by affection – by something akin to the first embers of love, if she dared to believe in such a thing.
Lady Bloodflame was a taken woman.
Not by a ring on her finger – that had been lost in the time jump, like the rest of the belongings they had attempted to bring from the past.
Not by her work. Not by time.
By devotion.
By Nerissa.
There was simply no room left for doubt in her heart. Nerissa's will was her will. She had sworn an oath: to serve her through thick and thin, to stay loyal to her if all else should fall. To be hers, and hers only. It was an easy promise, one that needed no debate, because it was all she had ever wanted.
To serve the king. To serve the kingdom. To serve her princess.
The label had changed – the requirement had not.
But the intention had.
She couldn't recall a time where her mind and body had been in such wholehearted agreement while serving the false king, or when assisting Fia or Iphania. Nerissa made her want more, want to do more – to be more.
She wanted to be by Nerissa's side. Not at her feet, to worship; not even in front, to protect; certainly not left behind, yearning for a presence she barely even deserved to be aware of.
She wanted to stand with Nerissa, to hold her hand through this new Libestal and show her that she could be everything she had once believed herself to be, everything that she now knew had never been the case.
She could be strong. She could be kind. Noble, chivalrous, perhaps even charming.
Whatever Nerissa desired of her – she could do it. She knew she could. It was all she could ever do. All she would do.
She wanted to kiss Nerissa.
The thought had surfaced before they had even left their previous Libestal behind. She had been kissed by her, multiple times even, but had never once considered returning the gesture.
When she finally did, it were as if colour had seeped into her world for the first time.
It had been brief, a gesture that needed no reciprocation or repayment – borne of gratitude, an impulse she had been unable and unwilling to control. In truth, a desire to please.
She hoped the second would be more meaningful.
She didn't understand the desire. She couldn't even begin to imagine why growing affections meant she would want to express herself in such a vulnerable way, when she had previously only wanted to snuff out such tumultuous feelings, to obscure any trace of weakness disguised as compassion for someone she had once believed to be untrustworthy.
She had found that the only logical reasoning came from comparing those desires to her interactions with others.
A headpat was almost instinctual when she crossed paths with Mococo – that came from fondness, she was certain. It was hard to resist giving a comrade a hug or pat on the back when they seemed forlorn, and so she found herself desiring to do so when such a situation fell upon her. She even enjoyed it when others sidled up to her, to partake in the warmth of her flame when evenings grew cold, and she would typically find herself wrapping an arm around their shoulders, pulling them closer to the warmth on her chest.
It was not hard to accept such actions for what they were – emotions surfacing and taking physical form, because words simply could not speak the same volume of care and duty melded into one.
It had taken a lot more thought to realize that her feelings for Nerissa were cut from a similar cloth, but now she was certain.
She cared – deeply – for Nerissa. And she wanted to prove it. Gods, how she wanted to prove it.
She had hoped to kiss her on the balcony.
Soon before they arrived at their present Libestal, they had shared a private moment, away from the other Shining Stars. So-called, as Nerissa might have added.
The moon had illuminated her so magnificently, casting an ethereal glow upon the one woman she thought could not possibly be more beautiful. Elizabeth's mouth had run dry in the moment, words failing her, and all she could do was follow the conversation, nod along as if the universe and all its glory wasn't unfurling before her very eyes.
An image had passed through her mind – of grasping that delicate hand, intertwining fingers and pulling her princess behind a nearby tree, away from prying eyes. Of pressing lips to perfect skin, trailing a kiss of words that felt impossible to utter aloud.
The thought had been unholy, yet it had felt right, in a way that was as perplexing as it was certain. Like a duty she had not yet realized needed to be fulfilled.
But then the conversation had slipped into something more brooding, and she found herself casting the desire away.
It had grown harder to do that, though.
That fact had surprised her at first. When they were gathered with the others, more often than not she would find herself staring at Nerissa's face, or sometimes her hands, longing to reach out. She wanted to be close to Nerissa, both physically and emotionally. She wanted to understand the chambers of her mind and the tells of her body, and she wanted to devote herself to each and every one of them.
Before, she had only known to use words with Nerissa.
Now, she wanted to touch.
She wanted to worship with caresses, to praise with lips and not with vocals. She wanted to take care of Nerissa, hold her at night, pull her away from danger and into arms that would open only for her. She had once sought to keep her distance in order to protect – now, she wanted to be a shield that remained bound to her arm until the day she shattered.
They had not spoken of sleeping arrangements – different jobs had led them down different paths, and Nerissa had retired for the night long before she'd finished her knightly duties – but Elizabeth now found herself recalling that night spent in her chambers, sitting beside an occupied bed as she kept watch, and how it felt to knowingly, consciously yearn for another for the very first time.
She had wanted to touch, back then, too. To stroke her thumb across her Juliet's lips, to brush raven hair away from that slumber-softened face. To pull the bedsheets up, over exposed shoulders, then let her hand linger for a moment. Just to feel. Just to know.
She hadn't.
Now, that desire followed her everywhere.
She wasn't sure what it meant. She knew she wasn't ready for everything it entailed. But it existed, and that was enough for it to weigh upon her conscience.
That unspoken thing between them had blossomed into something solid, something tangible – yet somehow, it felt as elusive as Nerissa herself had, in those first few days of their journey through the false Libestal.
A night spent together in her quarters that would have led to many more had they remained in those lands. A visit to an onsen that had, in hindsight, left her more wound up than relaxed. Spars that had never been arranged, never prepared for, but had simply occurred when the moment allowed for it.
So much had happened between them, yet so little had been confessed.
It was a trap of her own craftsmanship. Days of neglecting feelings, both hers and Nerissa's, had led to this. She was the one to blame, and she knew it. It kept her up at night – it was the reason she had taken to wandering the empty streets with nothing but her horse for company.
She knew of the pain she had caused. She had always been cautious around those she dared to scorn, but never reluctant to act. Now, she felt as if every action had to be considered, turned over carefully until a level of certainty was uncovered.
She found it was far easier to find that certainty in Nerissa's words than in her own mind – and so she did.
An uneasy relief always followed.
It was the fatigue of having to adjust to new surroundings yet again – or so she had told herself. She dared not greet the brambles of doubt that coiled around her gut with anything more than a cold shoulder.
The worlds they had traveled to, the faces they had met along the way – nothing remained but a faint memory, though that too would fade with time.
Now, Elizabeth found that her only constant was found within her companions.
It was gifting Mococo with food after a weary day, or sharing a drink with her fellow knights. It was letting out a mighty war cry alongside her comrades as they rid the realms of any foe, whether man or beast, that would dare to threaten the safety of those they loved.
It was watching Nerissa outshine the sunsets and illuminate the moon, knowing that she would cut down even the stars in the sky if her princess wished it so – or die trying.
Words like “law” and “order” had lost their savor. “Honour” and “justice” sat pleasantly on the tongue and warmed the heart, but they too soured in her mind when they swerved too far from her sworn duty.
She had only one goal: to provide her assistance to those she had resolved to serve, in any way possible. In reality, that fact had never changed, and she was certain it never would.
So engulfed in her thoughts, Lady Bloodflame hadn't even noticed her horse had stopped.
She blinked, raising her head, and sighed with the tone of someone who had already known but looked anyway. Of course.
The Jade Sword arena loomed above her, grand and glorious – everything she remembered it to be.
A tender part of her wanted to enter it – to pick up a wooden sword and swing it, as if a beautiful maiden waited to parry the blow with a sword of her own, their shared laughter writing a melody of feelings they could not yet share. As if nothing had ever changed between them.
Her brow furrowed. A discomfort settled around her shoulders and hung there, though she could not understand why.
She shook her head. Sparring would have to be a thing of the future. Midnight approached, and she would need to be well-rested if she hoped to become stronger.
With a gentle kick, Elizabeth spurred her horse onwards in the direction of her new home, resolved to get a few hours of sleep before the arduous day that surely awaited her.
And after that? She would press onwards – and upwards.
For her comrades; for her friends. For those she'd met, those she'd lost, and those she could not remember.
For her sister.
For Nerissa.