( The royal had been perusing a rather weighty history book when the escort and his escortee made their arrival at the library’s entrance, and though the knocks upon gilded wood went unnoticed, it was what came after them — the knight’s calls to Her Majesty — that successfully snatched her attention away from the ancient tome. )
☩ —— ;; ❝Your Grace? I don’t mean to barge in on you, but a…guest requested for your presence.❞
( Tapered ears twitched, sapphire hues flickered upwards, and the thin page kept betwixt slender fingers was stilled in mid-turn. )
☩ —— ;; ❝—Your Grace?❞
♕ —— ;; ❝Hold, good sir,❞ Rosy fingertips lingered on the yellowed page for another moment before they were reluctantly moved to allow it to fall back into place atop its kin. ❝I will be there in a moment.❞
( Delicate brows furrowing ever so slightly at the thought of having to leave her comfortable seat — as well as her most intriguing book — behind to greet this ❛guest❜, the brunette gave a quiet sigh, deposited her bookmark (which was really just a rather short strip of satin) into place, and hesitantly closed the tome she was so engrossed in not a few moments ago before rising from the armchair she was seated in and hastily — vexingly — making her way towards the chamber’s entryway. )
( What — well, who was more like it — awaited her there almost instantaneously melted her displeasure away. Though it had been a while (a while too long, she bitterly mused) since she last fixed her gaze on those emerald hues or that mop of blond, pale hair, such features were all too familiar for the monarch, for they belonged to the man who had lent her people succour even when they shamed and degraded him. )
♕ —— ;; Blue optics widened, eyebrows were raised, and tips of elongated ears rose in position. ❝—Emil…?❞
Emil’s smile was thin upon lips, awaiting to be turned away or otherwise disengaged, royalties time not taken lightly before she proved the young blonde wrong ( yet again ) by coming forward to see him with his rag-tag grouping of flowers. Green eyes widened at the recognition which twinkled behind knowing eyes, ears tilting upward, eyebrows following such an expression and his name spilled from lips in a silent query.
Unsure how else to respond, Emil’s face growing as a fluster of color, he merely lifted the meager gift, –a silent apology– hair falling beyond his eyes, covering his face and leaving a nervous, awkward smile to stay his mouth. What else would such a spirit be willing to do? He could not think of anything, mind drawing blank as a soft cough escaped the back of his throat, forcing words from between dry lungs.
"i-I see … y-you haven’t forgotten me y-yet, y-your highness…“
Emil didn’t know how else to respond. He felt [ strange, weird, unworthy– ] confused to how he should be responding to this person. Someone who had saved his life –once upon a time– and he had done her a service back. A tooth for a tooth, allowing a chance so that he may continue to serve that which may be most beneficial to both of them.
As it were, he hadn’t expected to come back. Emil’s sentences in lands he was unaware of were typically very small. Come forward, get the monsters, go back. If there were ever any repeated incidents, it would typically be by accident, and he would never go out of his way to meet those few members of society which he had learned from or seen again. This was … a very special case.
Part of him, had been convinced that she would not remember him.
Embarrassment was clear on his lips as the guard gave a look, awaiting for instruction on what to do next with him. Whether it was to take him out, leave them be, or stay to watch. His duty was to she, and they ( despite their limited abilities ) would die in defense of the crown. Or, at least, most of them.
There are very specific things that Emil remembers.
The good people he meets, the rough pommel of the sword between his fingers, the warm blood splash across his face, the soothing remarks given by people who were terrorized, adrenaline zipping through his veins, the calmness of his heart … Sometimes people had difficulty understanding that. Sometimes they forgot to remind themselves that they needed help, and that help can come from a stranger. Gentle hands, worked hands, so like that of a mercenary, yet nothing like the rough men who fought for money. No bargain struck, only a smile …
Sometimes it was more difficult. Sometimes he grew drained, dizzy, tired, unable to continue going. Forced instead to rely on himself in a different way, one he typically avoided unless he drew too much from situation he knew too little about. Sensed the fear of monsters and men, but could not help … Pushed, pushed so hard that his body collapses — only to rise up a second later with a biting tongue. For, once kindness had it’s turn, it was then ferocity’s turn. Unfortunately, this had given some pause, some back-lashing to people who did not deserve it, leaving Emil in a precarious situation …
Waking up on the road, with nothing but his own mess to fix, his own faults to stand trial for, a man with a black eye, bleeding nose, and teeth knocked in staring him down as a monster.
Forever would he be glad to see the ruler afterwards. She who saw reason, was careful to calculate and offered him a chance to get back up. Perhaps he would visit her again! The thought had come precariously to mind, quickly dismissed as a thought ‘too unlikely’, yet, as he wandered through the crowded castle streets, spotting the veranda not too far, did a brilliant thought come to mind. He was here, was he not? Why not … go and see her?
Sliding his way inward, he grabbed a handful of flowers, the bouquet nothing elegant or fancy, but a sweet gesture. No romantic ties came from such an object, tied together with some ribbon that looked —perhaps— a few rupees at most. The flowers chosen? Well, there was quite a few, wild flowers, mostly, a few weeds in the mixing pot. Yet, he didn’t stop, didn’t let his gift readiness (or there-lack-of,) stop him. Instead, going to a guard and whispering in his ear (the plea of a young child was always so convincing wasn’t it?) that he wanted to see the princess just to give her a gift.
He was looked down on, and then, with a fluster of nods, was given permission. Emil however, glanced away a bit bitter. He was much older than most ever gave him credit for … the twenty-year-old summon spirit did not complain, however, as he was drawn towards a library-esque room, books stacking the walls, catching his breath in intrigue and curiosity. What was here? What knowledge was hidden in the depths of these shelves? Yet, biting back his awe, the guard knocked sagely at the entrance-way, calling out there being a person to see her Highness.
Emil’s lips softly turned upwards, a green gaze much, much older than his form looked. Awaiting an agreement or a disengagement at-which he would merely set the flowers down, apologize for his intrusion and leave. The boy understand nobility, where-as he would prefer to say he did not, yet every society attempted a monarchy at one point or another, and the young summoned spirit had certainly lived through a few.
