Across the Seasons, My Love Remains

-Winter-

The breeze is chilly and laced with flakes so delicate they melt when they land on Eimyrja’s skin. Heat flees her body as she huffs into her hands to keep them warm, despite her layered gloves she’s wearing. The garden is the most beautiful, the flowers of ice blooming creates a natural scene of icy weavings that had beauty all its own. Eimyrja tries to take in more of the scene, her large, fluffy dress coat warm and comforting over her shoulders as she wades through the thick blanket of fallen snow, but soon her nose is itching and she feels the urge to- Politely turning her head away, covering her mouth with her elbow, Eimyrja lets out a dainty, restricted sneeze before fishing out a tissue. Softly, gently, she wipes her nose. It’s dreadfully cold and Eimyrja can’t find it in herself to like or enjoy it. So with a final glance at the frozen tapestry and greens, she smiles softly before heading back home.

She chuckles softly as she enters a cool, but heartwarming embrace engulfing her shivering figure before she can even close the door. “Prince Hrid, dearest, I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Where did you go? I looked everywhere! You’re not injured are you? Ah- you’re cold. Come, we’ll get you warmed up!” Eimyrja shivers slightly as but finds herself much too entranced by Hrid’s worry for her to feel the chill. He ushers her upstairs, telling her to change into some warm clothes as he had a surprise when she gets back downstairs. Eimyrja’s smile grows yet fonder, if possible, and she makes sure to take her time and pace herself as not to rush. In her excitement coming down, she doesn’t notice the warmth caressing her skin until she spots Hrid and he guides her to a separate room. She looks around, confused, but her vision lowers and she finds a small picnic like setting around the fireplace. The flames roar softly, setting a small glow on ceramic and glasses of hot chocolate set neatly in front. Hrid guides her through the warmth of the room and they settle onto the blanket laid out just before the fire.

Eimyrja folds her dress under her legs quietly as Hrid takes a seat beside her. She thinks for a brief moment, that nothing could be better, and then suddenly they're leaning on each other gently and sipping from their mugs. It’s rich, sweet, warm, and oh so calming. Hrid laces their fingers as the finish, and Eimyrja can’t help but love him more.

-Spring-

The winter ash begins to melt away, and even though Nifl remains cold there is a bit of reprieve thanks to the suns’ shine throughout the kingdom. Hrid tends to his duties as prince, but his mind is elsewhere. He moves with haste, but caution as well. A prince must know what matters are most important after all. He moves through the paperwork, the council meetings, and the daily greeting with the royal siblings as always. He trains in the morning with Fjorm while Ylgr and Gunnthra watch in awe and praise both of them for their hard work. But soon enough Hrid lacks his warmth - the sun has hidden behind the clouds and a pleasantly cool breeze sweeps through his hair and runs across his face.

Fjorm smiles mischievously, the youngest royal sibling looking unbearably excited and happy. Hrid snaps out of his temporary daze when a name springs from his sisters’ lips at once, and he’s suddenly warm again.

He turns - with a bit too much excitement - and gathers the sun in his arms and twirls her light body as she giggles. “My dearest sun, you shine brightly as always.” He whispers, placing her lightly on her feet as he releases her so that his sisters can gather for greetings. The sudden flood of energy and happiness seems to come not only from Hrid, but his sisters as well as Eimyrja engages them in her sweet, strong voice.

His gaze is nothing short of loving and grateful. His sisters love Eimyrja -  good, if they were to be married he’d love it if they got along. A messenger bows as he makes his way to Hrid, offering a scroll of parchment with another bow before politely bidding the nobles a soft goodbye. Hrid wants to sigh in exasperation, but he must set an example and his duties are just as important and worthy of attention (maybe a little less sometimes) as Eimyrja.

He visibly deflates and Eimyrja seems to do the same when an apologetic look he didn’t know he gave spreads across his features. Despite that, the radiant sun smiles and wishes him a swift return. He finds himself motivated to finish the business quickly so he can once again hold his love in his arms.

-Summer-

Hrid is in panic. He’s been separated from his siblings and his mother is dead. He flees, intent on assassinating the flame that lead the fire - Sutr, but his attempts are repeatedly met with failure as his escapes become more narrow and with more injuries. He’s helpless and frightened, alone and afraid, and sick with worry. His first attempt to free his kingdom leaves him burned, his second attempt however, leaves him with more rage and determination. In the far east tower, he can see his Sun. Light burned and ragged in appearance, he wants nothing more than to rescue her. He manages together near her, for a brief few moments, and she leaves him with a good luck charm of her own making as she cries silently begging him not to go where his ears cannot reach.

She knows she's not made for fighting, and having her around and trying to escape would prove nothing less than fatal for the eldest prince. Hrid forces himself to leave her, and she aids him by pouring her heart out in the form of her wish to marry. In that brief moment they kiss, tears, regret, pan sorrow, love and hope. The melt together for one last embrace, but they promise this will not be the last as Hrid flees with a heavy heart.

-Fall-

The leaves make a silent journey to the ground as their colors fade to brown and reds. The loss is enough to remind Eimyrja that her dreams would come true. She struggles to hold back tears, nothing could have prepared her for the moment she was experiencing. She looked down at her dress - it had seen the beauty of winter, the warmth of fall, the burn of summer, and now.. The calm of fall.

Someone swatted a tear from her cheek and she nodded, holding tighter to the arm guiding her. Soft, slow steps lead her to a clearing she’d come to love, a garden of icy blooms and rosy colors alike. She nearly sobbed when her hand was war again, but she held it in for the sake of tradition. Her veil lifted, the ring on her finger connecting their lives as they merged their lips.

“I love you, my dearest husband.”

“And I, you, my queen.”