𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒 ᵍⁱ

𝘈𝘚𝘏𝘌𝘚

hold strong, my heart,

for our love will not be shaken so easily.

――――

The first time they meet is in an era of war.

The young god has many rules to learn, even after so many centuries. She flits about, from one end of the country to the other, never settled. Never rested.

How can she rest with that burning desire for greatness nestled in her heart?

Natlan is a fiery place, one of heat that only the strongest may prevail to find the hidden paradises littered throughout. She judges each warrior, each artist, each human that seeks entry to this world, her world. It is hers, it is safe from the war that sparks ever present in her mind's eye, and she will protect it with the eternal flame that slips past her grin.

And so it is with a pounding heart and battle scarred hands that she greets the new (old, old, this figure has an air of eternity, he has watched many before her fall and will watch many after, and still stand unwavering) challenger.

He glances down at her form. (A young woman is plenty fine. They are hardy creatures, after all. She feels no need to present in such a grandiose way as the Hydro Archon does, though Fontaine appreciates age and wisdom over youthful power. She doesn't see the appeal.)

"I am here on business. Please, allow me passage so that I might speak with an old friend." His voice is smooth and filled with life, an oak tree that has stood against wind and storm alike. It does not match his young-old-in-the-middle face, in much the same way that it does.

She stands her ground. God or not, this stranger will not step foot on her land. "I'm afraid I can't do that. Not without the Murata's explicit permission." And she has not given this man (stone and dust, forever and eternity, this is time made immortal) permission. He turns his golden gaze past her, and something wilts inside of her as he looks away. "Unless, of course, you wish to try your hand at battle."

Something sparkles deep within his eyes. "Oh? Battle? I assure you, I would not take this lightly if I were to accept." He's merely amusing her, she can tell, they always do this, they just don't trust her, even after she built this nation with her own burning hands-

"I accept your terms, assuming that a victory shall grant me access?"

She grins, and it is a sharp, fierce thing that reflects in her claymore. "Then let's fight."

―

It is not a battle, so much as a suggestion that a fight may have taken place.

"Take pride in yourself," he says with a flick of his white coattails. "You fought well."

She spits into the earth beneath her, a muddy mixture of blood and dirt. A tooth has been lost, but a new one grows as the god speaks. "Your victory has been acknowledged. Speak, and the Murata shall hear." She can't help the flush that spreads along her cheeks at the look he gives her, because, well ...